Of Thieves and Wine

This picture pretty much sums up life in Mendoza, Argentina...

After leaving Santiago a little too soon, it seemed like I had arrived at Mendoza a little too late. That's not to say I missed anything at all, but I easily could have. Mendoza is stunning--a tree lined city with wide avenues, wonderful for walking despite the overwhelming humidity and heat. My first impressions of Argentina, as a result of my few days in this city are mixed. The overall landscape is beautiful, the steak has lived up to every expectation, but every once in a while you definitely get the impression that you--a tourist--are not wanted here. It's something that I can understand, but the way that people come off when expressing it is somewhat blunt and without grace. On the other hand, I have encountered many many friendly Argentinians. Its just the few that make you wonder...

I arrived in Mendoza the about five nights ago, at an hour I thought was pretty late--9PM. The sun, however, seemed to disagree. Within four days, I had jumped two time zones and the sun was staying up at a much later hour. In short, my body was a mess from the altitude change, adjustment to time, and constant travel. It, of course, didn't stop me from wasting the night away with a German guy, an Italian guy, and a Dutch guy who spoke seven different languages. We went to dinner, where I would experience my first Parillada and bottle of Argentinian wine (I'll be honest... it wasn't my first, but rather my first here). Feeling a little too good about being in Argentina, I returned to my hostel and passed out in my overwhelmingly hot dorm room.

I woke up the next day as a result of my gungho Euro-buddies rustling around in the room. They told me to get ready, because they were going horseback riding and felt I should tag along. Being a little too weery to argue, I obliged, and off we went into the great outdoors. It was a good experience to ride above the city in the early morning and recall the one or two horseback riding lessons I took when I was a runt back in Nebraska. The day did, however, not come without consequences, as my horse got kicked in the face, bucked up, almost fell over, and almost sent me sailing. Luckily, I was able to ride it out and escape unharmed.


It's like a really bad remake of City Slickers...

I spent the next couple of days lounging about the hostel pool and getting acquainted with life in the city. While wandering about, I figured out that nobody seems to wake up before 8am, there is a midday break that lasts from 1pm to 5pm, and nobody eats until at least 9pm--though 11pm seems to be the preferred time. It reminds me of Barcelona, and much of Spain, but a little more dramatic. I also figured out what I would do with regards to wine--a bike tour of the vineyards in Maípu (the trendy and overwhelmingly touristy thing to do) and a sensory wine tasting in town. It sounds expensive, but seriously, in total, both have maybe cost me $40 total...

So yesterday I spent my day peddling throughout Maípu in order to check out the best of what Mendoza has to offer: grapes. The region is known for producing Malbec, but even better known for producing stellar blends of Cabernet Sauvignon with Malbec, Merlot with Malbec, Syrah with Malbec, and the list goes on and on. In case you're interested, or are going to QFC anytime soon, 2002 was the best year for blends from the Mendoza region. But enough about wines...

The day was hot, and felt like a pretty dumb idea at times. However, in the end, it was probably one of the most eventful and interesting days I have spent on my trip. The story goes like this...

There aren't a lot of options for wine tours that don't cost over a hundred dollars, so I decided to book through this unnamed company with what was probably too little or just plain false information given to me. Nobody would give me bus routes or help me out with getting to Maípu on my own, which may have just been my luck. I resigned myself to a fate, and got picked up yesterday morning. I grouped myself with a Dutch and Norwegian couple who were pretty impressed by my knowledge of Scandinavian political systems (Thanks Professor Ingebritsen)... We peddled and peddled around to different wineries, stopping at La Rural first in order to see South America's largest museum, full of antique wine making tools. It was quite the site, and full of the most informative guides I have encountered so far. They gave us a glass of wine, and we were feeling pretty good. The next couple of vineyards wouldn't end up being so sweet, as we found out that we had to pay for entrance fees that we were told we wouldn't have to pay... A little pissed, we still decided to pay, as we figured that we probably wouldn't have this opportunity for quite a while (even though I live about 10 minutes from some pretty damn fine wineries that I haven't ever been too... though I guess I don't actually live in Washington right now...). We then proceeded to eat an overpriced set lunch at the place recommended to us--I violated my rule and got what I deserved. Actually, lunch was alright. We finished up by visiting the last few wineres and peddling through this unbelievable road, where I took both of the above pictures. Despite having to pay a little extra, we found ourselves having a great time (the wine probably helped). Then, as we are peddling on the way back, I hear this huge crash behind me. Mikhal--the Dutch guy--had been knocked off of his bike by a couple of would-be theives on a moped scooter. They had tried to steal his camera, which he had wrapped around his wrist and was holding it in his hand. They pulled him completely off of his bike, not knowing that the camera was attached around his wrist. This sent them flying as well, and the scooter was almost dismantled after hitting the pavement. About 20 residents ran out of their houses, subdued the drivier of the scooter, and called the cops... The other guy stole one of the girls' bikes and started peddling away. However, about 15 minutes later, this couple pulls up in a truck with the bike, and proceeds to tell us that the older guy in the truck kicked the crap out of the kid who stole the bike... something that I guess isn't that rare in a testosterone driven culture full of machismo. It definitely put a stamp on a day that I wouldn't forget, and reminded me why I am always skeptical of people.

It was, to say the least, an interesting day. I got home safely, and didn't seem to mind that I had to pay a little extra any more. I was, after all, in one piece.

In other news, I missed the College Football National Championship for the first time in my life yesterday. It left me feeling hollow and alone, at least until I went to sleep, woke up, and finally got to a computer to check the score, only to find out that Bo Pelini--new coach of my beloved Nebraska Cornhuskers--led his LSU Tigers to a seemingly easy defeat of OSU.

I leave tomorrow night, and despite the fact that this place has honestly seemed like paradise at times, I'm pretty much ready for a change of scenery. So far, I can seriously say that nothing compares to Seattle. Not even for a second. Despite the fact that many of you will read this while you should probably be doing work, in an office building, in rainy Seattle, you are lucky because of where you are. Of course, that doesn't mean that I'm not as well, despite any percieved dangers.