Yet again, I've been meaning to write this post for ages now but have been so sidetracked by having fun that I kept procrastinating as long as possible. I do want to have it written down, though, because I know I'll want to reread about the difficult parts of this trip in the future just as much as the good parts.

So after everything happened in San Rafael we got on a bus back to Mendoza in hopes of sorting out our lives (stolen passports and money) as quickly as possible. The tourism police in San Rafael told us the Mendoza tourism police would meet us at the bus station upon our arrival to further help us sort out getting new passports. But they didn't... Naturally. Why would anything be easy when it could be hard... So we went to the actual police station located inside the bus station and Negar got on the phone with the tourism police from there and our worst fears were confirmed - for me anyway. Turns out there is neither an American nor an Irish consulate in Mendoza but there happens to be a German one. Therefore, I at least had to return to Buenos Aires to visit the embassies and get new passports. Negar was going to try her luck at the German consulate.

The only saving grace about returning to Mendoza was the free wine at the hostel that night and every night from 7-9 pm. Yes, we loved our hostel there so freaking much the first time that we came straight back and brought Fabio and Noelle with us. We drank away our sorrows with red wine and then everyone (but me) headed off to bed. I really was planning on going five minutes after them after I finished my cigarette but then one of the hostel workers, Gonzalo, came up with some pisco and started chatting to me about anything and everything. Then a friend of his showed up. Then another one. Next thing I know it's 6 am and I've imbibed my body weight in wine and beer. Good work, Allison. You sly dog sliding into bed when people would be waking up within an hour to go to breakfast. Needless to say I slept until 3 pm the following day and accomplished absolutely nothing. I didn't get passports photo taken, didn't pick up the money my dad had sent my via xoom.com (as close as you can get to the blue market rate without having dollars in cash), didn't get to eat the freaking amazing breakfast the hostel serves and did absolutely no research on how I was even supposed to get new passports (ie which documents I needed). A day wasted I suppose, and then in a few hours it was time for free wine again and... Drum roll my friend... ASADO!! Yes, we still hadn't had our fill after having been in Argentina for six weeks (it's never enough) and we couldn't resist having another round of it, especially since the last two times we had had it at that hostel we had had such a lovely time with the people we met and we desperately wanted to distract ourselves from the difficult tasks ahead (ie going back across the country to BA and visiting all the embassies).

And meet lovely people we did! Over endless red wine and rounds and rounds of meat we heard many entertaining stories about theft and/or injuries and we were only too happy to share our own recent difficulties, desiring sympathy in return naturally lolz. One story that really sticks with me is one that an American guy, Kenny, told about a bus crash that he was in a month previously. Yes, a bus crash! You hear about them now and again on the news and amongst fellow travelers but I had never met anyone who actually experienced it and still had the scars to prove it. He was asleep while traveling on an overnight bus in Peru when he then woke up to glass shards covering his face. The bus had turned over on its side and people slowly tried to crawl out of various windows, no one was hurt thank goodness, but many were taken to the local hospital to be treated for cuts and other injuries. From what he could gather from other people's accounts is that the bus driver had fallen asleep because the people still awake on the bus could hear persistent honking before the impact and the bus driver must have then over-corrected the bus to such a point that in veered off the road onto its side. He had photos that confirmed his suspicions as the front side of the 18-wheeler was smashed but still in its lane. Wild. That's all I can say about that story. Wild. And very terrifying as Bolivia and Peru are on our itineraries...

In any case, I stayed up talking to Kenny that night until 2 am about America, traveling and various other interesting topics. Really cool guy and I was slowly regaining my faith in mankind after our catastrophe.

The next day Fabio, Noelle, Negar and I had planned a lovely day to the vineyards and visit the vineyards we did! We got going quite late as Negar and I had to get passport photos taken, so around noon we finally set out for the Lujon wine region by bus. Upon arriving we stopped by a bike rental shop to ask about bike prices but these weirdos said if we rented bikes from them then we could only visit the vineyards that they told us we could. What? Isn't this like a free country and the point of me renting a bike is to do whatever the hell I want and go where I please on said bike?

Fabio is quite the wine connoisseur and actually owned his own wine business in China before he sold it to come traveling, so naturally he had done some research on good vineyards in the area and had a set list of bodegas he wanted to visit. None of the bodegas he wanted to visit were on the bike rental place's list so the owner said she could call us a cab to take us to the bodega Fabio most wanted to see. So the cab arrived and we were on our way, but about fifteen minutes into the drive Fabio asked our driver what it would cost to rent his services for the day. Your man says around 800-900 pesos and Fabio says it too much so driver says it can be discussed. He comes down to 500 pesos and we accept straight away because renting a bike was going to cost us each 100 pesos anyway! So it was only 20 pesos more expensive for a personal driver to take us around to about four different bodegas in the area... Including Chandon! Like Moët and Chandon, yeah. The bodega we visited in Mendoza is their first daughter bodega or whatever they call it outside of France and it was great. Except we had all dressed to ride bikes (workout shorts and sports bra on me) so we were incredibly underdressed. Ahhhh well - we're never prepared so why start now.

We did very little the following day except hang out with Fabio and Noelle for a few hours because there was no room in the hostel for them that night so they were heading out to Maipu (another wine growing region) and returning on Saturday. After they left Negar and I sat around as most shops were closed (Semana Santa). We waited for wine hour to roll around and eventually it did. I seriously felt like we sat around for days on end at that hostel waiting for Saturday so we can finally be on our way to BA and get our lives back on track. It was so painful sitting there day in and day out wanting to do something but not being able to. We seriously had the worst luck because it was indeed Semana Santa that week so embassies were closed both Thursday and Friday and there was a bus strike Tuesday in Mendoza so we couldn't get a bus to BA until Wednesday so we wouldn't arrive until Thursday when the embassies would already be closed. Sorry for that long sentence but it perfectly describes out predicament. We were essentially trapped in Argentina against our wills... With little money so not much fun could be had except for when wine hour rolled around and Thursday night did not disappoint!

We met some very funny American guys who were studying abroad in Buenos Aires and a few others so that our small picnic table where Negar and I had began our night turned into a nice little party. One of the American guys (Patrick but he is calling himself Patricio in South America) told this story that had happened in Iguazu. To be fair, he didn't want to tell it but he had mentioned that going to the American embassy was strange and I asked why he had had to go. He had to give a statement after what had happened at his hostel. They had met a guy on the bus to Iguazu, a French guy, who they then shared a dorm room with at the hostel. Everyone had been drinking and then Patrick went to bed at some point and was then woken up in the morning by someone asking about his French dorm mate and where his bag was. The person said Patrick should come outside to give his statement. Patrick comes downstairs to where the pool is and sees someone trying to resuscitate the French guy but it was too late - he died right there next to the pool playing some drinking game of who can hold their breath the longest... Cause that always seems like a good idea after a few drinks, right... Patrick had to give a statement to the police there and then at the American embassy as well so that he was cleared of any involvement. I couldn't believe it... How sad! You come traveling to fulfill your dreams and then die playing some stupid drinking game?! Even when I'm incredibly intoxicated I would like to think I would never ever do something so completely irrational and dangerous. I can get a bit out of control but I would never go that far... It's just so sad and I can't imagine having been there that night and being partly responsible for what happened. I would feel guilty for the rest of my life...

In any case, the mood lightened a bit as we changed topics and it was truly another lovely night at that hostel. I don't think I can even count on one hand how many great nights I had at that hostel and the countless amazing people I met there. That hostel would have gone down as one of my favorites if not my favorite had they not kicked us out the next morning. Yes, you read that correctly. Negar woke up the next day and decided to take a shower but upon passing by reception your man asked if we were checking out today and when she said "no" because we had a reservation for that evening he said we in fact did not. Uhhhh what? Yes we do, we booked it through Saturday because we're taking the bus Saturday night to BA. The hostel was booked out for that night. Your man wouldn't budge so Negar and I start panicking and searching for hostels online. Nothing came up on hostelworld.com or booking.com or any other .com that would provide us with a bed and roof over our heads for a night. f***. How can this actually be happening?! Within a week our lives being robbed we were also now homeless for a night... I just started laughing. It was so ridiculous that if I didn't start laughing that second I was going to break down into tears about how unfair life can sometimes be.

Then problem solving Allison and Negar appeared and we figured the only solution would be to run to the bus station and see if there was anyway we could change our bus tickets to BA to that evening instead of the following one. Off we go! Walking incredibly fast and praying to God that your man working in the bus station would show some mercy on two helpless girls. And he did :) We changed the bus for the same time and price as our original one, so not much harm done except... What if that hadn't worked?! What if all the seats had been sold out and we actually had to have slept on the bench in the main plaza? Hostel man, this is your mistake - not mine. The fact that I solved it for you should put you eternally in my debt. I will take one 5 liter of wine to go, please.

In any case, we dawdled away time for the rest of the day until we were off to BA and on our way to solving all of the problems life had thrown at us.