Mendoza

I went to Argentina for the weekend.

Yes, I had as much fun typing that as you think I did.

In any event, Elisa and I took a vacation to Mendoza. It is the fifth largest city in Argentina, and is known for its vineyards. It's just over the Andes from Chile (yes, I enjoyed typing that too). From Valparaíso the bus ride takes about eight hours (or it would, if the customs process were not total anarchy, but more on that later). I have a three-day weekend every week, since I don't have Friday classes, so it was time for an escape.

We left Thursday night at 10pm, after a beer at the bus station. The bus was nearly empty and so all the passengers spread out into their own two-seat domains: luxury. I listened to music and watched out the window for the intermittent lights that we passed in the distance. As we started into the mountains I lay with my head on the armrest next to the window, staring up at the stars. The road was a series of hairpin turns, but there was no road, only darkness with stars above and darkness without all around. We twisted up improbably, unendingly into nothing. Half awake, I watched as the milky way screwed and unscrewed itself from the sky: clockwise, counter-clockwise, clockwise.

At the apex I was shot back into some version of reality by a flourescent-lit hour at the border crossing. I forgot my sweater, but the bus driver appeared with an unasked-for blanket to wrap up in. Stamps and papers and scans, and all around the dim open structure the same emptiness waited. As soon as we made it back into the bus I was asleep.

We arrived at 7am Argentinian time, and I was amazed to find the city awake and buzzing. This is of course normal at home but it is quite the contrast from my late-sleeping Valpo. Most things were in contrast, though, between these two cities. Mendoza's streets are wide and evenly paved. They are lined by towering and elegant trees, which are watered by an open irrigation system. It is a strange and beautiful thing, like a forest superimposed on top of a city, or perhaps the opposite.

The city is laid out into five squares: Independencia, at the center, is the largest, and it is surrounded at equidistant diagonals by four smaller plazas. My favorite was the Plaza España, which emphasizes its message with beautiful Spanish tiling.

On Saturday we rented bicycles to take a vineyard tour, which is "what you do" while in Mendoza. There is a reason for this. There are very few things more enjoyable, hedonistic, and relaxing than pedalling around in sunny weather and tasting wine. The fact that the bicycle seats threatened my future ability to ever sit down again was a detraction, but otherwise it's a pretty much flawless Nice Day. Which explains why Mendoza is just about covered in gringo tourists (of all classifications, not solely the norteamericano variety). It was incredibly odd to hear so much English after two months of feeling like I may have made up the language in some sort of fit of insanity. The majority of the other bikers were couples, another fact that is entirely not in need of explanation. It's hard to go wrong with a date like that. My date, as usual, was the lovely Elisa:

We have gone on some really lovely dates by now. It is an unfortunate fact that both of us are interested in men, because otherwise we could be well on our way to an enjoyable fling. Nonetheless, it was a wonderful day with or without a date. I fell in love with a liquor called Pimenta Verde which is really and truly spicy--I may have found my aperatif. When I am old and not a volunteer I will order it direct from the family I bought it from and serve it in special little glasses. You are going to love it.

All in all we visited 7 wineries, 1 artisan food company specializing in liquors, dulces and spreads, and 1 olive oil manufacturer. We participated in all of the tastings that were not insanely expensive, which luckily was most of them. I learned a lot more about Malbec, a grape which was once thought to be extinct until it was discovered mixed in with Chile's Merlot grapes. Now it is grown in Chile and Argentina, perhaps other places. It's tasty. Or, as I was told, it has flavors of blackberries and strawberries when young, and a nice oaky flavor when aged in barrels.

I also participated in two very nice book conversations in less than 24 hours, which was really and truly amazing. Since the end of my bookstore days, I've been a bit starved (with the exception of chats with Nicola, who is unfortunately a resident of Santiago).

Finally, yesterday we rode the bus back through the Andes. Some things are just too beautiful and large to wrap your mind around. The pinks and reds against the blue sky were brighter than I could imagine, and underground water gave itself away by showing snakes of green plants winding down the sides of the hills.

Travelling can be brutal. It is lonely, it is confusing, it is uncomfortable, and there are so many times when you ask yourself why you've chosen this sort of a life. But then there are the little things that come through to remind you: now I know what color the Andes are. Now I know what the squares of Mendoza look like. Now I know that there is one man who hates The Alchemist and cannot wait to see his girlfriend again, and another who is working on a novel while touring on a motorcycle. Now I know about Pimenta Verde and mustard made from beer. I don't have much to hold on to down here, but every day my internal world gets larger and larger.