Jan. 24, 2011: 
Mendoza, ME, Argentina
Fifth (and last) Argentinian province.
I took the bus again, this time doing things in the right order, I figured: worst-case scenario, the bike can't go on-board, I just swallow the cost and buy another ticket. I mean, seriously. They're 17 dollars. I can do that more than a few times before I have money-flow problems.
But of course it was a total non-issue. Gave the baggage kid (a different one, thankfully) a fifty, as before, and we were off. The on-board movie was some local production; somewhat soap-opera-y and somewhat slapstick-y.
The scenery outside had turned rather arid and desert-like. The road was basically one long construction zone for the 133km from Desaguadero to San Martin. The weather was full of thunder and water. A perfect place — and time — to take the bus.
When the rain and construction left together in search of a better party somewhere else, there were vineyards everywhere. The roads, houses, all infrastructure, was in a much better shape than previously. Clearly Mendoza is a much richer part of the country.
- Cathedral in San Luis.
- Didn't Radiohead write a song about this place?
- Another street market in San Luis. This time during the day.
- The Sierras just outside of town.
- In Mendoza now: one of the various parks.
- ...
- Sometimes you come across the strangest things.
It is a very, very pretty town.
It is also super touristy. I am instantly plunged back into the world of McDonalds and Subway. Everything is Wine Tours this, Adventure Tours that, and tourist info center the other.
People here speak English and IT IS WEIRDING ME OUT.
Seriously, even in Buenos Aires, people don't speak English. Other foreigners aside, I have heretofore spoken English to precisely three people in Argentina: the passport & immigration officer at the airport, and the two clerks at the Buenos Aires youth hostel.
All of a sudden, it's not even just hoteliers, but street corner kiosk proprietors that deal in English.
At dinner, I ended up seated next to a table of boisterous Australians whose conversation seemed to orbit around the various unfortunate side-effects of partying too hard.
I can't wait to get out of here.
Tonight's wine: Carcassonne Clásico Tinto 2010. I'd seen this wine with its distinctive yellow label on display in many places, but never (it seemed) on the menu. So finally I broke down and asked. I kind-of like it. Rather inoffensive, a bit alkaline.| Comments: | ||||||||||||||||
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