Wine country

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Our bus the next day to the small wine-producing town of Cafayate takes us through this crazy colourful canyon called the Quebrada de Cafayate. We strike up a friendship with 2 Australians, Rob and Keiran, when a bottle of wine stashed in our overhead luggage falls out and nearly brains Rob. We check into the same hostel, where we link up with Ray and Ana from New Zealand on the roof terrace and together we set about sampling the excellent local wines. My favorite is a light fruity white Torrontes, best icy cold.

It´s a civilised few days spent touring the local vineyards, tasting at the bodegas and cheese farms...picnics at waterfalls after 20km walks...the Salta Philharmonic playing a free open-air concert one night in the lovely town square.

But us English speaking nations do seem to drink more than pretty much anyone else and a celebratory last dinner together before Ray and Ana must leave for New Zealand, descends into tequlia shots and teenage style binge-drinking. In the painful morning light we´re all convinced that we´ve outstayed our welcome in this small town and perhaps it´d be best to get lost in a big city. Buenos Aires here we come!

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