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Published: November 14th 2006
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Mendoza. Desert region of Argentina that gets its water from the melted mountain snow . . . home of the best wine in the country . . . a superb micro-climate where it hardly ever rains . . . so what does it do when I'm there?
Rains for 24 hours like I've never seen before. But more about that later . . .
Myself and three fellow English people - Vicki, Alex and Matt - decided we would hire a car during our stay in Mendoza, as we had worked out it was a cheaper way to see the city and surrounding areas than forking out for the guided tours. We would also get complete freedom about where we went and for how long.
The first day we had the car, we drove to a region near San Rafael called Valle Grande (ignoring the dead dogs at the side of the road on the way). Valle Grande is a beautiful canyon region interspersed with dam lakes and rivers. The rock formations are so beautiful and seem to change colour and even shape at different times of the day, depending on the strength and angle of the sun.
We'd found a lovely cabaña to stay in for the night, situated at the less touristy end of the Valle Grande road and right next to a clear blue river, that we could hear peacefully flowing from our beds. It was wonderfully relaxing, and the first afternoon and evening we were there we drove into the canyons and spent the sunset overlooking one of the lakes. The scenery there was some of the most stunning I have seen on this trip.
The next day was back through Mendoza and up into the region of Villavicencio, home of a mountain spring that supplies mineral water. We never actually located the spring, but spent a few hours driving round the windy mountain roads (eek!), taking pictures and generally having fun. On the way back down the mountain it started to get rather overcast, and we noticed that there was an enormous storm cloud lingering over Mendoza city. As we got closer we started to witness some cool sheet and fork lightning, and while driving into the suburbs we realised that the area had had a LOT of rain, as there were some large puddles and a small amount of flooding
of the roads. Out came the cameras (except mine as I was driving), to take the obligatory 'small child on bike riding through puddle in the rain' shot.
Five minutes of driving later and we were rapidly approaching the city centre, when all of a sudden the road became completely flooded and it felt like I was driving through a river. Every time a bus drove past, a wave would catch the car and we would start floating . . . a very eerie feeling. It was bizarre, seeing people trapped on their doorsteps, unable to get anywhere and people were abandoning conked-out cars all over the place, including in the middle of the road. I've never seen anything like it, and unfortunately you will have to wait to see it yourselves as I didn't take any pictures, so I will have to kindly ask one of the guys if they can send me a couple. The drainage system in Mendoza just can't cope with that much rain in one go - when we got back to the hostel, the owner told us that he had been in Mendoza for 2 years and had only seen rain like that
Ah, wine tasting
Vicki, Alex, Matt and I about twice the whole time he had been there. So we were (un)lucky to witness it.
I also did a bit of wine tasting while in town (well, it would have been rude not to), although it was on one of the aforementioned guided tours, which was, frankly, a bit rubbish. But I now know how to taste white and red wine properly, and what to look out for in a good bottle. Something I have been more than happy to put to the test on numerous occasions since.
So, after the high-jinks and frivolities of Mendoza it was time to move on. We said goodbye to Vicki at the bus station and Alex, Matt and I continued our trip down south on the 20-hour bus journey to Bariloche, in the Lake District. Bus travel always make me feel strangely, pleasantly nostalgic and introspective. I guess it's because there is very little else to do but sit and reflect on where one has been and where one is going to. I also often get a little sad on bus journeys, even when I have no reason to be. But it can also be an exhilarating experience - on
this particular journey I witnessed the most beautiful sunset over the Andes and awoke to an equally lovely sunrise the next morning. At times like this I feel so privileged to be doing what I am doing and I will never, ever take nature this beautiful for granted.
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Maureen
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Really to say 'What can I say?' It seems as it is all exceeding your expectations. Makes life home seem so humdrum. Thinking of you and so pleased that you took that initial step to take the trip Maureen