Mendoza and Malbec

Firstly, we arrived into Mendoza in serious style, all be it totally unintentionally. We realised once we were in Cafayete that there was no direct route to Mendoza. So we caught a 6 hour bus to Tucaman and then attempted to buy an overnight ticket onwards. But when we arrived we found out that all the cheap tickets were already sold, so our only option was to spend a crazy sum and catch a 'cama suite' bus. Argentinean buses have lots of different grades, from normal through to cama, meaning bed. We had no idea what 'suite' meant but we had no choice. As we boarded and sat down G said "For this price we had better be getting champagne and canapes!" And wouldn't you know it, a few minutes later the host appears with champagne and canapes! A 3 course meal followed all served with red wine and whisky to end. Then our seats are dropped to horizontal, blankets and pillows are brought, curtains are drawn and we slept the next 13 hours away peacefully. In the morning as we drove into downtown Mendoza we were served tea and breakfast. What a way to travel!

Mendoza was hot, close to 40, and of course it was a sunday so nothing opened, no one stirred. Our original hostel was a little grubby so after one night we checked into Mora, closer to town, friendly and relaxing. Mendoza was nothing like we expected. With a total population of 3 million it is huge. And reminded us slightly of Melbourne, wide green avenues and beautiful old building everywhere. Big parks and fountains.

Our first objective was of course wine, malbec to be precise. After many many recommendations we went with a company called Trout and Wine. Spent a very long day at four wineries tasting endless glasses of malbec. We ate a ridiculously large steak as only part of a 4 course menu midway through the day, so it was lucky that we only had to taste more wine after lunch.
The following day we went to a mate appreciation class, no, not a class where we all get blind drunk and then say "mate... mate, I f@*king love you..." as others have questioned. Mate, pronounced like latte, is the national drink of Argentina, a bitter strong tea that is drunk from portable cups through metal straws absolutely anywhere. No self respecting Argentinean is ever seen without mate cup in hand and thermos tucked under one arm. Not sure we did learn to appreciate it exactly, pretty potent stuff. We'll work on that one.

That evening Steph shouted us dinner at Francis Mallmann, one of the oldest and fanciest restaurants in town where we voluntarily and very unsuccessfully attempted to eat yet another enormous steak along with a half baby goat.

Torrontes Country

Desperately trying to eat G's delicious looking jeans

The drive into Cafayete is nothing less than spectacular. The road winds through the quebrada (canyon) floor unfolding incredible views at every turn, towering slices of rock folded like origami give way to desert then vineyards. Cafayete is torrontes heartland, fortuitously our favourite variety of white wine. We hired bikes and peddled out along sandy roads through vineyards to a goat farm, buying fresh goats cheese.
We chose to do a tour of the quebrada since driving through it didn't seem to give us much insight. The English speaking guide that was promised didn't eventuate, so we contented ourselves with wandering as far from our vaguely annoying, Spanish only speaking guide as possible and making up our own tour.

Teeny tiny me

The Dreaded Empanadas

A relatively painless 2 hour border crossing back into Argentina, being pulled out of the huge queue and fast tracked through, seemingly just for being gringo's, and being told by the customers officer to walk on through, again just because we were Aussies. A nice surprise. Such a relief to be back in Argentina. A country with fabulous food and wine - little did we know.
We arrived into the tiny town of Tilcara with no reservation. It became obvious very quickly that this may not have been the best of plans. The place was heaving. So G was left in a park with our piles of luggage and I was sent on a scouting mission, and discovered it was the pre-Carnival celebrations. There were almost no rooms left in town. I found a very sweet little hostel with just 1 room left, way over our budget, and I took it.
The next day we chose to wander the streets people watching and sat in the sun eating delicious steak sandwiches and bbq'd chorizo. We found tiny little restaurants that served every type of empanada, our new favourite being cheese and quinoa.
By the next morning G was not well. Bad tummy, tired, nauseous. Not realising it was food poisoning I went out into the world alone, and went back to the same restaurant we had had dinner at the night before. By late afternoon G was a little better so we caught a bus 4 hours south to Salta. And as we pulled into the bus station I began to feel a little funny, 10 minutes later I had my head stuck out the taxi window deep breathing, by the time we arrived at our hostel I was running for the bathroom. And so my complete stupidity paid me back and I spent 24 hours flat out sick. We could not believe we survived Peru and Bolivia with barely more than a hiccup just to be struck down the day we arrived back in Argentina. Damn those cheese and quinoa empanadas!

Once I was recovered we did explore a bit of Salta, relieved to be back at lower altitudes and in green places, we hadn't seen real big glossy trees since Lima! We went to see another ice mummy, the Girl of Lightning, who was 6 years old when she was sacrificed and is still in amazing condition, apart from a small burn on her face that was struck by lightning while she was still in her burial chamber, she looks like she has just drifted off to sleep.

Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid Country

After a marathon drive back through the desert to Uyuni we thought just for kicks we would get straight on an overnight cross country bus to the very southern town of Tupiza. So we treated ourselves to a hotel with a pool when we arrived. 

Tupiza is all about the outdoors, so going against my firm belief in dresses and high heels we went mountain biking and horse riding. The mountain biking was a fun adventure, we were driven to the very top of a very high and very picturesque mountain and then pointed downhill. And so we whizzed down at a speed far higher than either of us were comfortable with, passing surprised looking goats along the way, trying hard to take in the dramatic dark red landscape. When we reached the bottom, very shaken, we were promptly put on top of some pretty calm looking horses and sent onwards. Horse riding is important here, this is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid country. This is where the notorious bank and train robbers were ambushed and killed in a shoot out in the 1900's. Supposedly. It is beautiful cactus filled country, with brilliant red colour palattes and crazy weather systems. While we were out, but luckily before we were on bike or horse, a huge hail storm came through turning everything into white rushing torrents.

The horses were relaxed, our guide, a 16 year old local boy however, not so much. After a brief check as to our experience, to which G answered none, he kicked his horse with all his might and took off at a gallop taking  the rest of the startled horses with him. G was lucky to stay in the saddle, and was mightily pissed off when we did stop. That was more or less how the next 2 hours progressed, we'd get lulled into a false sense of calm, and then he'd take off at lightning speed across the canyon floor with a wicked grin on his face. Luckily G learned to hold on tight fast.

Butch Cassidy

The Sundance Kid