There's an old legend, that Jesus once turned water into wine. Seeing is believing, goes the other old saw. Road-trip into a small, north-Argentinian town in search of a local version of Rio de Janeiro's famed carnival, fiesta, frolic and fun. Another bandied hack flickers its tongue: beware of what you ask for. The trumpets blare, rumpety-pumpety drums beat and beat, others triple and thrum, oboes move air, charangos twang and trill, and violins fill the empty spaces with cumbian drive and rhythm. And the wine flows. Free wine! 'No such thing as a free lunch?' Maybe. Free wine! Seeing is believing. The country's wine-bearing regions run mostly along the eastern base of the Andes Mountains, in areas of ample sunshine and enough snowmelt for good irrigation. From the south, Neuquen (in northern Patagonia), northwards some
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