From Chile to Argentina and wine country.

Waiting, Weekend, and Wine

I woke up the following morning with a gorgeous view of the lake and the mountains as backdrop. The temperature was cool, but soon the sun warmed the air. With breakfast complete, it was unfortunately time to move on again, from Bariloche to Mendoza, and to what I hoped would be another highlight of the trip, a wine-tasting tour of the much vaunted Malbec wines of the region. The bus trip was long, another near 20-hour trip, and I was glad that a large part of it was going to happen overnight. I had learned a lot form all my previous long-distance bus trips, and came well prepared with snacks, water, clothes, and anything else I might possible need during the day and night. Fortunately the trip was made a lot more pleasant by some great conversations with a wonderful and vivacious fellow passenger; a student of atomic sciences at an institute in Bariloche, she was also an avid dancer trained in ballet, with an almost encyclopedic knowledge of some of the best know European and South American literature of the last few centuries.

Food on the road – ready meals on the bus

Day turned into night, and night into day, and we finally arrived in Mendoza, where it took me another half hour to figure out how I was going to get from the center of the city to the outskirts and to the home of my host for the next few days, and I learned another lesson about bus travel – this time about local bus travel. I had sorted out which bus I was supposed to take, and had found the nearest bus stop for that bus, or so I thought. I arrived, just as the bus I wanted was pulling away. No problem, the next bus would come by in another 10 minutes, and so I stood and waited at the stop, taking in the movements of people as they rushed about their daily business. In the distance I could see the bus coming. It stopped a few hundred meters away, and I picked up my bag in preparation for getting on board. The bus left the stop and made its way toward my bus stop, but it didn’t slow down, and simply sped past me. I waved frantically, and the driver waved back, indicating that I was to wait for the next bus. I though perhaps I had been at the wrong stop, and so walked to where the previous bus had stopped and stood, waiting for the next bus to arrive in 10 minutes. I could see it approaching, and once again hoisted my bags onto my back, and got ready to jump on, but this bus sped past the stop, then slowed down and came to a stop at the next bus stop, the one where I had been waiting previously. I realized that although the buses ran on a schedule of 10 minutes between buses, to make it more convenient for passengers, the buses would stop at alternate stations along the route. I stood my ground, and sure enough, the next bus to come along stopped where I was standing. 45 minutes later, I walked up the drive to my host’s home.

Bar-B-Q pit, with lots of great food

A family event with wonderful guests

Over the next two days I had a thoroughly enjoyable time in Mendoza; it was the weekend, and weekends are family time. On Sunday, I was joined by two other guests from Mexico who also came to stay for the night, and the host’s extended family came to visit. We had a bar b q in the back yard, and soon, filled with food and drink, the music started, with a couple of uncles playing guitar and percussion. The afternoon was rather raucous, but fun and satisfying, and it was an opportunity to learn a bit more about real South American culture and hospitality. By night time, the food well finished and the last remaining bottle of wine drained, the participants slowly receded on their separate ways home, leaving behind a small group to clean up before quietly collapsing for the night – it had been a wonderful fun event.

A family event with plenty of fun and laughter

It was the following morning, and with my bags packed and ready, I set off to find the bus that was to take me on the wine tasting tour. I had been assured that I would be picked up only a block away from where I was staying, yet about 15 minutes before pick-up time I received a message that I was to make my way to a different location, 20 minutes away by bus. I could not find a bus, and walking was out of the question. I finally managed to wave down a taxi, and got in for a high-speed race to the appointed location. Arriving at the location, there was no one and nothing to be seen. A petrol station on the side of a highway. I waited. And waited some more. I sent a text, and received no reply. Then I finally received a reply that that bus was waiting for me at the location, but I could see no bus. I replied with this information, and was then told that the bus was actually still on its way, now already 20 minutes late. Eventually the bus did arrive, and my luggage was stowed in the rear – I was to be dropped off at the bus station in Mendoza for the next leg of my trip to Buenos Aires after the wine tasting tour.

Vines at one of the vineyards, waiting for the next season

A Whine about Wine at Wineries

Unfortunately the grape harvesting season had long since passed, and the wineries we visited were no longer in the process of pressing the grapes and bottling the juice. The harvest had already been processed and was now stored in large vats in the cellars. We were guided through the wineries rather quickly, with scant information on how the grapes were grown or any other relevant information.

The wine cellar – wines from a century ago, Mendoza, Argentina

We were shown the oak barrels, the deep, large cellars, and the tasting station – it seemed as though most people in the group were too much in a rush to get to the tasting part instead of the information part, and the guides were only too eager to rush us along – after all, the more time spent at the tasting station, the higher the chances people would buy a few bottles of wine to take home. One might think this is a case of sour grapes, but I did not really enjoy the wines, and had expected more from a tour of what are supposed to be some of the best wineries in Argentina. I was not sad to turn around and be driven to the bus station to get on yet another bus, leaving the wineries behind, and heading to the South American capital of the Tango.