Mendoza, Argentina

Hello all, after a little help from my imaginary travelling companions I will be handling today’s blog my very self...

And thus to Mendoza, a town (I think they think it’s a city but I am not so sure) which has quite stolen my heart and provided a really rather lovely place to spend a few days before heading ever onwards. Nationally and increasingly internationally famous as a destination par excellence for both wine and adventure tourism (though perhaps not together) the town is friendly, sophisticated and bustling without perhaps the relentless pace of life which characterised my time in Buenos Aires.

Of the town's two famous tourist attributes the adventure part I have not yet indulged in but the wine element proved impossible and really quite unnecessary to resist. Lying at the foot of the Andes the dry climate, mountain air and fertile lands have that indefinable quality the French simply call - terroir - that which separates the good wines from the bad and the great from the good. Several varieties of grape are grown by the numerous bodegas which line the valley - notably Malbec (the Argentinean flagship grape on the world stage), Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah. For a small fee one is able to rent a bike (the enterprising Senorita Erica deserves a special mention for renting the worse bikes - two bikes and two punctures - but gaining the most business by soliciting tourists on the bus before the first vine is even in sight) and ride between the various vineyards sampling their wines as you go. With the sun shining from on high and the countryside calling to mind the winding lanes of rural France (I would imagine, I have never been) a day spent in such fashion was pleasant indeed. The danger of becoming a little too inebriated after visiting three or four wineries at which you simply had to have three or four glasses of wine was negated by the clarity of fear induced by the lorries and buses which hurtled past the increasingly wobbly cyclists at quite obscene speeds!

Mendoza is one town where the oft quoted observation that Argentina is the most European of the South American countries is truly, er, true. Resting my weary bones and slightly dull head in the park on Saturday the vista was of an Italian fresco with trees, shrubs, lakes and monuments placed just so. A summer’s day spent idly in a London park was also brought to mind as the posh parents paraded their progeny hoping for an admiring glance from those they passed and a generation of thirty something’s pounded the pavement in a bewildering array of fitness regimes intended to halt the relentless onset of age and girth.

Mendoza has also seen the re-emergence of a side of my character not witnessed since I hopped the Greek islands with Messrs Cook and Myers. Yes indeed, Shirley Valentine is back! In the 5 days I have been here the anatomically impressive Paula and I have been on two dates including a trip to a backstreet jazz cafe - nice - all requisite jazz going attributes were in evidence - roll neck jumpers, hideous goatees and heads nodding in appreciation yet apparent disregard of the tempo of the music. Anyways where was I? Ah yes, the lovely Paula. Her ability to speak English makes my frustratingly limited Spanish seem almost fluent by comparison (she speaks not a word - of English that is - she is no mute and rambles along quite happily in Spanish) but talk is cheap and conversation a burden. After the occasional romantic desolation of my days in London Paula has provided a welcome reminder of why we to choose to complicate this life in the pursuit of companionship. Fear not mother I think this is more holiday than romance but a little local knowledge of where to go and when is ever a good thing.

One other incident worthy of mention is the opportunity which Mendoza provided with to take a little dig at the national hero; you know the one, that little guy who used to be alright at football. Whilst playing a game of cards in the hostel one evening the question was asked as to what the word for cheat was in Spanish. I simply replied: Maradonna.

And finally a special blog mention must go to Eileen (to my regret, I made the obvious joke) my travelling companion from Puerto Madryn to El Calafate and then ALL the way up to Mendoza where we parted ways. Performing the role of translator and still speaking to me after 48 hours of travelling on buses where the seats didn’t go fully flat it was a pleasure spending time together.

Unsure where my next blog will come from I have a day of deciding where, in this quite wonderful country, to go next (life, at times, is a relentless chore) and thus I will head to the square to sit in the sun and contemplate my next move and muse on the travellers lot - which thus far has been a very good one.

Ciao, luego...x