After leaving Buenos Aires, I went to Mendoza, land of wine and mountains, to meet Dorothy. I had a day alone before picking her up from the airport, and I used the time to unwind and recharge.
On the bus to Mendoza, I met a girl from New York. We were sitting in the 2 front seats and while we were playing bingo, we got to talking. She wants to be an actress and spend a semester studying theater in Moscow. We talked a bit about our time in BA, and what we want to do next, and then we slept. I didn’t really want the bus ride to end, but Mendoza looked pretty, so I got off and walked the 5 blocks to the hostel. I was worried about travelling with my suitcase alone, but it was fine.
The first night I was alone in the hostel. I wasn’t very cheery, but the people were nice. I took a “mate class” where I learned more specifically the rules of mate drinking and making. I had learned a few of these tips over my time in BA, but it was nice to have a rundown of everything. The gourd is also called a mate, and they can be made of actual gourds, wood, or metal. There are 2 types of mate: pure mate and one with herbs, like mint and others. When you pour the mate into the gourd, you only fill it ¾ the way full. Then you take your palm and cup it over the opening and shake it a few times. A green dust will appear on your hand and that is supposed to get rid of the extra “earth” and “palvo” that was in it.
Only one person is allowed to touch the mate, and they are the ones who pour the hot water every hit and make sure everything is set for his/her friends. The “caber,” or the one who makes the mate, takes the first hit because it is always the worst, so they spare their friends the bad experience. They always pass the mate in a counter-clockwise direction. No one is allowed to touch the straw, or bombillo, because it might disrupt the flow. When pouring water, always pour it as close to the bombillo as possible.
Never say thank you, or “gracias,” unless you don’t want anymore. It’s always polite to offer tour guides or other people of service mate, but if they accept, they have to take it at least twice, since only doing one hit of mate is considered rude. You can make mate with sugar, lemonade, or tea—all which add a unique flavor. My favorite was with a tiny bit of ground coffee added to the dry mate. It was refreshing and energizing.
Social cues are also passed through mate. For example, when a guy serves a girl mate with sugar, it means he has serious intention. Of course the girl can respond accordingly, but the mate is the first move. Mate is a big part of Argentine culture, as well as parts of Uruguay and Paraguay, and it is meant for sharing.
This whole explanation was in Spanish, and I was proud of myself for keeping up. There were other American there speaking in Spanish, but they majored in it. Considering I majored in English and could understand something, I was happy.
The next morning I went to get Dorothy from the Airport. I took a cab and got there early. It was fun to wait for her, but hard too. Every time I saw a family or couple or friends reunite, my heart ached for the day I would see my family and friends again. But when Dorothy walked through that “international arrivals” door, I had my own friend to greet. It was surreal, really. Finally having someone who knows me here.
We took a cab back to the hostel, and we talked the whole time about people from back home and our own experiences. She gave me a graduation card signed from all of my friends back home, which I couldn’t read without tearing up (thanks guys).
The first day we spend walking around Mendoza and catching up. I tried to fill her in on travel tips and Argentine customs, but I felt like I was lecturing her, so I shut up. We saw a lot of the town and plazas, plenty of parks and water fountains, and we got traditional Argentine pizza for lunch (mozzarella, green olives, and oregano.)
That night in the hostel we had a wine tasting class. A woman came in and brought a red wind and a white wine. She told us that Mendoza is known for their red wine, but they white isn’t anything amazing. For good white wine, she told us to go to Cafayate in the North of Argentina, where I had been just a month before with Jessica (PS, I miss you Jess! I hope you’re having a good time at home). I was proud of my travels, but then put to shame when she asked what I could smell in the wine. I don’t know a lot about wine, and, quite frankly, I don’t really care for it. But I do want to broaden my horizons and develop an appreciation for it. So when she asked what I smelled, instead of saying blueberries and pears, or cinnamon and campfire, all I could think of was, wine. It smells like wine. Yeah, ok. I’m working on it.
She taught us to look for the colors of a healthy wine. Take a piece of paper and hold the glass the light at an angle so the shadow falls on the paper. White wine is supposed to be gold and yellow, not brown or orange. Red is supposed to be burgundy or red, depending on the wine. But you can’t base everyone on looks either. Sometimes a really good wine will look bad on paper but taste and smell amazing.
The aroma is important in 2 ways—at first, and after being exposed to oxygen. You’re supposed to smell the glass with your entire nose in it. The initial smell gives you a peek into what the wine will hold in store. Then, after swirling it for a minute or so, allowing the oxygen to interact with the chemicals in the wine, the aroma will be stronger, and smelling it should be clearer. Not for me. It still just smelled like wine.
She also told us that it takes time to develop the pallet, so don’t give up hope, and drink as much as you can. When it was time to takes the wine, she told us to swish the wine in our mouths for a few seconds, to equilibrate the PH level in your mouth to the wine. She said the first sip is always the worst, but it’s worth it, because after that, you can taste it better. The second sip is supposed to be held in 2 parts of your mouth, up front and in your cheeks, where you’re supposed to breath in through the mouth, making a slurping noise, and breathing out through the nose. She didn’t tell us in advance that the alcohol will make us cough.
I really tried to taste the difference, and I think I made some progress, but at the end of the day, wine is wine.
The next day, Dorothy and I met up with Jennifer, the girl I met on the bus, and we rented bikes and rode around wine country and visited wineries, or bodegas. The first bodega we went to specialized in olive oil. It was interesting, but I was more interested in the sampling than the tour. We got to try olive oil, olive paste, sun dried tomatoes, some spicy jelly, and straight up green olives. It was all very good, and I did like the olive oil from Mendoza the best. The next stage was the sweet jellies and dulce de leches. The one with the chocolate was my favorite. The pumpkin jam was interesting, but I really liked the membrillo jelly. Finally, we got to sample the different liquors. From dulce de leche and Irish cream to port wine and absinthe, we sipped about 10 different kinds. Since this was our first stop, I took it easy, knowing a lot of wine was in my future.
The next winery had a wine museum that showcased the process of wine making from hundreds of years ago. It was interesting, but would have been better with an explanation in English. So instead of trying to translate the Spanish tour, we just sampled the wine, walked around and took pictures.
The last bodega is called Trapiche. It’s the most famous and best in Argentina. We knew they would treat us well when we got free (with the purchase of a tour) fancy coffee. The machine reminded me of a time machine, because it made so many loud noises while fixing my Cortada and Jennifer’s cappuccino.
Trapiche is an old company, but a new facility. Wineries took a fall in the 70s because the emergence of beer and Coke products. Trapiche got back on its feel in the 2000’s and has since produced some of the best wine in the world. We got to see the old fashion methods of making wine as well as the new technology.
I was surprised when the guide told us how expensive the barrels are (1000 Euros), and can only be used for 5 years, because after that there is no chemical interaction. The older the barrel, the cheaper the wine. When barrels are retired, they usually go to make furniture in houses or wineries.
We got to sample 3 “high end” wines. I could tell they were good quality, but I still though wine was wine. The official tour was over but we were invited to stay for a while. They told we had to move because a party of 30 was coming in. As a consolation prize they gave us the rest of the bottle of wine we had sampled and told us to go out to the deck. We had amazing views of the mountains and vineyards. The only problem was we had to bike back into town.
Since I don’t like biking that much to begin with, the wine had an interesting effect on me. It was good because I was less afraid, but following the bike lane in a straight line was a bit more challenging. Thankfully we made it back to the bike rental place without crashing, only to be greeted by more free wine. Goodness. Overall it was a great day shared with 2 friends. Estaba contenta.
The next day Dorothy and I took a bus to the mountains. I felt like I was getting sick, so we took it pretty easy, but it was a gorgeous place to walk around and have a picnic. The mountains seemed bigger in than in Colorado, but I think it’s only because Mendoza has a lower starting altitude. We ate sandwiches and talked about life. We walked around an enchanted forest and watched paragliders. While we were waiting for the bus to take us back, we were offered a ride in a white van, it looked like a tour company, but it was empty except the driver. If I would have known the bus was going to be late, in which time the sun set and it got really cold, I would have accepted the offer. But because I usually don’t accept rides from strangers, especially ones in big white vans, I said no. Finally the bus came and we made it back without further ado.
That night in the hostel we met Hector, giver of much food and wine. There was a BBQ at our hostel that you had to pay for, but since we had left over rice and beans, we opted out. But there were only 3 people at the BBQ and Hector, the chief, had enough food (and wine) for a lot more people. So we got scraps passed quietly under the table. Dorothy got to try the Argentine asado, while I got salad and dessert. The dessert was amazing: apples soaked in wine and sugar. All the while, when Dorothy and I were trying to plan our trip and book hostels, Hector kept filling our glasses with wine.
He was very interested in our trip to the wineries the day before. So I showed him pictures and tried to tell in, in my butchered but slightly better Spanish (lower inhibitions from the wine) what we did and our plans for the next few weeks. He was such a sweetheart. He reminded me a lot of Ralph, the pizza guy at Rare Air. Even after we had washed out dishes and put away our wine glasses, he tried to pour us more. Gracefully excusing ourselves to bed, I gave him 2 kisses on the cheek and said, “Gracias por todo.”
The next day we got up and caught a bus to Valparaiso, which will be the next post. Leaving Argentina was a bit sad, and a bit exhilarating. It means I’m one step closer to home, and there are plenty of adventures between now and then. My study abroad experience already seems like a long time ago, and I think I’ve transfer to life on the road pretty well. Well, minus the big suitcase.
(Sorry there are no pictures. The wifi is way too slow)
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