Comatose in Cafayate


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South America » Argentina
March 15th 2009
Published: March 18th 2009
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In this episode our heroines sing "we´re up to our heads, I think we´re dead!"

So they arrived, tired and dusty in the charming town of Cafayate late one Friday evening. They headed straight for the RustyK hostel, the cutest and quietest little place around a vine covered courtyard. Showered and feeling much more human they set off in seach of what were quite possibly the world´s best empanadas at La casa de las empanadas.... they have 12 varieties, the speciality being the local version with meat, goats cheese, onion & the local torrontes wine. They had seconds.

Saturday morning started a little late for our weary wayfarers, and before long they found themselves amongst the bodegas trying more of the regions finest. After a short siesta they toiled down a dusty path to Las Cabras de Cafayate, the local goat farm, where they encountered hundreds of the fiesty wee fellows, a corral of baby goaties and some cows, geese and a guanaco for good measure.

The factory toured it was onto the tasting. Goats cheese of every form and flavour - all delicious. Then the cows needed a chance to show off, and that they did with some of the sweetest, carameliest dulce de leche this side of.. somewhere.

Then back to the RustyK when the trouble really starts. Our heroines, now joined by several of the other hostel guests and staff, gathered round a large table beneath the vines for a traditional Argentine asado... more meat than many could handle, salads galore, fresh bread and 25l of the local vinto tinto.... aahhhh.....

And from there, on to La Vendimia (grape harvest festival) at Las Nubes Vineyard, several kms out of town on the hills, overlooking the sparkling lights of Cafayate. It was a magical night filled with singing, red wine, dancing, red wine, grapes, red wine, stargazing, more red wine and lots of local flavour. Heading back into town on the back of a truck was a little bit of transport the local way, followed by a brief demonstration of local couture, "Some people pay thousands of dollars for mink shawls, why bother when you could use your cat..."

The following morning (afternoon actually) the refrain could be heard from the dorm at RustyK "We´re over our heads, we must be dead"....

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