I arrived in Mendoza early, the bus again was again ahead of schedule, which is a good thing normally but jaysus, it's 4:30 in the morning, could ya not have driven slower and allowed us another hour or two of sleep?! Getting off the bus, a cold breeze smacks me in the face. I wasn't in the warmer climates anymore for at night in the Mendoza and the foothills of the Andes, it gets bitterly cold. Anyways, the jacket went on before anything else could have been thought about, that was one thing for sure. I would have murder a cup of scald too but I was nowhere near a kettle.
My taxi brings me to my hostel, Empendrado, a short walk the centre of Mendoza but god only knows where it is in the dark of night. As it was still early, I checked in, probably interrupted the man on night duty's porn session, had some brekkie and into the shower for a freshen up. On coming out of the shower, who's in reception only a lad who was in my dorm in Foz do Iguazu, Brazil. I was travelling alone so it was great to see a familiar face and have a chinwag with. He and a few more people he had met whilst there were heading out to do a bicycle wine tour of the local area on the outskirts of Mendoza that day, asking me if I'd join? Yes. Yes please. Me, bicycles and wine mix very well let me tell you.
Amongst the group of course, there had to be two more Paddys which was great as I could now effortlessly talk about the weather and potatoes in a such a speed of speech that none of the others could grasp until we slowed down for fresh air! We were now Irish, French, Swedish and Kenyan, sher we were a great bunch altogether, a great mixture of people and cultures for hoofing down some vino! We took a local bus out to where we could rent the rothars, a good hour out of town, to this special place. The name of the person from whom we rented the bikes, for in Mendoza or with fellow back packers in Argy, this man needs no introduction, for he is a living legend. Mr. Hugo is his name. All he does is rent bikes but he is a pure ledgebag in the way he treats people and whatnot. Full credit to him, for its his personality that has his business thriving to this day, where backpackers coming through Mendoza will make a B-line to go visit him.
We visited four vineyards that day, I think, visiting the farthest one at the start of the day so that we wouldn't have that far to go back when we would be well pepsied later that day. It seemed quite logical anyways. Each of the vineyards had bodegas, or cellar doors, where you could visit to do a tour perhaps, have a meal or just to sit, relax and do some wine tasting. Pondering over the menus and the cost of the tastings, we said that due to the size of the group, small little glasses just wouldn't cut it, feck it, just give us a bottle each of what you got. Ideal! The bodegas differed from one to the next. Some old with aged character, some new with a clinical feel, which wouldn't be my choice but hey, they put up with a fierce amount of messing that day, so ill let them off. Over the course of the day, I think all of the groups most favourite location was the boutique bodega we visited. The reasons being, we got the chat about who they were, a small, family run winery who didn't export and with whom we felt more welcomed than anywhere else we'd been that day. Not that the others weren't welcoming, there was just something, that's all. Terrible I know, but I cannot remember the name of the place either and as I write this, I'm on a bus with no wifi so if you want the name to visit in the future, just ask me and I'll find out for you.The wine was flowing so much so that day, that we ordered another few bottles to enjoy our time there. A few of us went out for a fag, and then suddenly we were all outside chatting away, wandering around the back to where the production happened. One of the girls had noticed something and asked one of the workers there could she have two extra pairs of wellies. I was wondering was she going to the bog to foot a few sods, but no, there was a man in a huge wooden barrel stamping his feet 6ft in the air, crushing grapes, and we were going to be joining him! Yussssss! A great experience for one and all. Next the lady from the bodega came around, wondering if we had done a runner but smiled when she saw what we were at. Apparently no tourists do this in Mendoza, crushing grapes, so we were told, so I consider us being quite lucky that day!
Next stop on the route was to a fancy schmancy place that again I have forgotten the name of. Again, we did the usual, drink wine, smoke fags, eat empanadas but one of the lads decided to have a great idea to burn the end of a wine cork, using the burnt cork as a brush to apply unibrows, moustaches, beards or in my case a panda bear face. I wasn't satisfied with it to be honest, the panda face, so i began experimenting, an experiment that ended up being the face of Heath ledgers Joker who had a father who had sexual relations with a very flirtatious endangered panda. This is all fine and well until you have to cycle back into the city having everyone gaping at you, broad eyed, wondering what kind of eejits are sleeping in the city tonight? Being fairly goosed at this stage, after a good days tasting, it was now time to mount the bicycles and head back to Mr. Hugo's as the daylight was beginning to end. However, rather than cycle inebriated all the way back with the real chance of crashing, luckily for us, the Mendozan Police Force had sent one of their finest out of his motor bike to patrol the vineyards during the day to keep and eye on us. Not a word was said to us during the day but you always knew Chief Wiggum had our backs, and most importantly, at the end of the day to radio for another police bike to join in on a police convey for us l, all the way back Mr. Hugo's. Bad Boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?
As I've said, Mendoza is in a desert/mountain area at the base of the Andes, sitting on top of huge tectonic plates. It was due to this that we had heard of a place a lot of locals and not gringos tend to frequent on a daily basis. Situation in the foothills of the Andes, in a town called Cayuete, there lay thermal baths heated by the volcanic flow beneath these tectonic plates. A few of us headed out by public bus to this little humdinger of a place. Seeing that it was in the mountain, it was the notion of the group that we would go hiking for a bit and then to go for a wash in the baths! On first sightings of this place, the idea of hiking went out the window as we made out way into the baths. The valley in between two mountains, rested at the bottom, the bottom of a V as such, and there lay the baths in all their glory. With baths both inside and out, all with varying temperatures it was a place with such a beautiful view that one could spend all day there, and we did. If the heat of the water was too much, if your legs were getting weak from an overexertion of doing nothing in warm water, there was always a bar to sit outside at, enjoying a few beers, in our bathers as the mild mountain air managed not to bother us. Pure bliss!
Back in Mendoza, the hostel where I stayed, was a stellar spot to meet some great new friends. Between the few bottles of wine that were swigged over the few days I was there, I knew that the week ahead would be super fun that's for sure. Andreas, Jana and Fanny from Sweden, three of these new great friends I've have made, had headed north to the northern city of Salta a day prior to me going, but I was to meet up with them in a day or so, to perhaps rent a car and explore the Quechua speaking area of north western Argentina.
Onwards and upwards and empanadas!