Tough on wine, tough on the causes of wine.

We had a couple of days in Bariloche, so I took the opportunity to get some laundry done.  Since this lot still resolutely refuse to speak the Queen's, I still had to pantomime an impression of a blithering idiot.  An impression that was done no disservice by me asking -in Spanish- if the launderette lady spoke Spanish. Apparently she did, and rather well as it turns out.  This didn't help me any, but at least it was an icebreaker.

While we were waiting for that, we drove El Shed up to the oddly named Llau Llau, which is a massive hotel and golf resort on a hill, peering over the city.  The chap who built the original Llau Llau (which burned down) was very influencial on the rest of Patagonia, so you'll see buildings in this style all over the place now.  We had afternoon tea again, because miniature cakes and sandwiches are apparently still where it's at.

We dropped El Shed off at the airport, whereupon the wheels exploded, the doors fell off, and twelve clowns jumped out of the boot.  Chan says I've done the clown car joke before, but I'm unconvinced so I'm running with it.

Off you toddle, you export market lemon

The last stop in Argentina was Mendoza, a place you'll have heard of if you like a glass/bottle/crate/cellar (delete as applicable) of Malbec now and then.  We didn't check in until about midnight, as we were in Buenos Aires for five hours waiting for our connection.  This is what happens when you fly with a Chilean airline (LAN) out of Jorge Newbery airport. The state-owned airline, Argentinas Aerolineas, is based out of there and would struggle to make money selling deep-fried heroin in Glasgow, as they are managed by some ridiculous Peronist youth group.  Accordingly, competent competition is afforded every possible discourtesy (when they aren't being kicked out of their hangers), you will find your flight delayed and -when you do board-  you will all be stuffed into one undersized bus and taken to the darkest corner of the airfield.  Aerolineas are still pissing pesos, mind.  Although this did work in our favour when they forgot to charge us for our ridiculous luggage on our flight to Ushuaia. 

As the Bard once said:

"You can call in all the favours with the minister of transport that you like - your airline is still a shower of shit."

Anyhoo, we were in Mendoza.  It's a place that should be a desert but for the vast irrigation system implemented by the natives and perfected by the Spanish in times of yore, which makes it now so suitable for grape and olives.  Our first day was a simple one:  we went to a local restaurant of some renown, drank wine;  we went to a local hotel bar of some renown, drank wine.

The restaurant was the Azafran Restó, where they don't have a wine menu, instead they take you to the cellar and help you pick one according to what you've ordered to eat, price and preference.  Or in Chan's case: whichever has the prettiest label.

"I'll have...the lot"

Then we went to the Park Hyatt, where they apparently did free wine tasting.  They did, but not until half six, and it was barely past lunch time.  So we bought some wine to drink while waiting for the free wine.  There are worse ways to spend the day.

The following day we used the public transport network to get across to the wine-growing area of Maipu, where one can hire a bike and cycle between various vineyards and wine shops at leisure.  Evidently one cannot be drunk-in-charge of a bike here. Or rather you can, but no one's going to book you for it,  and the random open drains on the pavements work as a very efficient moderator.   The bike vendors offer a selection of examples from various stages on the knackered spectrum.  After a few offerings with flat tires, we were given a map and sent on our way.

 

The first stop, Vinoteca La Botella, was fantastic.  For 40 pesos (about 4 quid or 6 US dollars) the bloke there gives you 5 generous glass of wine from local vineyards and throws in a bottle to take with you.  Also for 40 pesos, he'll give you a massive glass of wine and 3 steak empanadas.  This was agreeable.

"This tastes hysterical"

We made our shaky way (both mechanically and physically) up and down Urquiza, trying the local wares.  It was important to try everything,  lest we cause offence.

It's hard being me

Eventually we made our way back, using buses following routes that were confusing enough to start with without being drunk, before they are diverted all over the city because of random road closures due to this being Argentina.

The country has been by far the most awkward in South America: every interaction requires reams of paperwork and three times the amount of time you allow for, and buying goods and services was often tortuous (either they don't take card or you can't find an ATM that functions with foreign cards). But the locals have been very friendly (and often met my blustering gesticulations more than halfway) and the scenary frequently awe-inspiring.

So, back into Chile.

Kurzfassung auf Deutsch: Wir haben eine Besichtigung der Mendoza mit dem Fahrrad gemacht, trinkt viel Wein. Es war toll.  Unsere Reisen in Argentinien sind beendet und wir fahren jetzt nach Chile.