Vino vino vino!

Finally made it to Mendoza!!! This is a greeeat city. It's much more laid-back then Buenos Aires, and the people look you in the eye and smile when they speak (and speak more slowly!). We stayed in the well-reviewed Monkey Hostel Adventure Park, where they are known for helping to set you up with excursion packages. Receptionist Kiki was utterly helpful on this front:

Friday: Made use of local company Bikes&Wines to check out 8 or so of the 11 bodegas (vineyards) featured on the tour. Yes, I drank a lot of wine while bicycling. Yes, I bought a lot of wine (and absinthe!!!). You can get some really fantastic bottles for great prices here. Many of of the Malbec variety. Malbec originated in France but the grapes there didn't go so well with the soil, hence the name "bad in the mouth". Luckily for us, they grew just dandy in South American soil and it's one of my favorite to sip here. The tour was also just plain beautiful- views of the Andes all along the road, basements full of vintage oak barrels, and a continually hotter (or was it the wine flush?) day. I picked up some Malbecs and ohhh just a bit of absinthe :).

Our Friday night at Monkey Hostel was lots of fun- a delicious asado (bar-b-que) and plenty of free wine included. Nothing like a pitcher of red to help ease the (Spanish) conversation with strangers. We met our really sweet roommate, who lives in Tandil, along with a number of travelers and educators from Western Europe and South America.

Saturday was an adventure day. We joined guides Nicolas and Frederico, and also a French student named Nico, for a day of trekking, rappelling, and rockclimbing in the foothills of the Andes. The climate at that level is REALLY dry, so we were navigating plenty of dusty rocks (which kept sliding) and cacti. The guys were really knowledgeable though, and I felt safe the whole time. I climbed 26 meters, which sounds short but feels really really high when you are up there. I was sore for two days after, but we finished up with a dip in some natural hot springs to relax. That night we went to an amazing Mexican restaurant (Taco Tobasco) with our roommate, Luisina, and then she used her native ways (i.e. actual ability to speak Spanish and very pretty) to get us into a bar for free. I ordered a double Fernet and Coke, thinking there would be enough Coke for two Fernet's....wrong. Both nights we felt like old ladies and hit the sacks by 1:00am. The only downside was that our room was in the middle of other people's, so we had late arrivals/partiers shuffling between our beds all night...lucky I can be a heavy sleeper when I choose to be.

We finished the weekend with a visit to the "thermal pools" or water park. Warning: don't always believe the brochure! I may very possibly be a spoiled American, or maybe its my 5 year career as a lifeguard and pool supervisor, but I decided not to get in the waters here. The sun was great though, and worth the sketchy walk we had to make along a railroad track and some shanty houses after the bus accidentally dropped us off at the hotel instead of the water park. It was a little kitschy, kind of like the scene from your average upstate-NY cheaper public pools...except they were warm (bacteria!!!) and crowded (more bacteria!!!)...maybe I'm just paranoid...

Ironically the "most relaxing" day was not my favorite, but there's is pleeenty to do in Mendoza and I wish we could have stayed longer. I would have loved to do some horseback riding, and even with no planned activities the city is full of clean and beautiful plazas and parks...and lots of cheap delicious wine!

Tigre y el tigre interior

Tigre was...perfecto. After 5 weeks of dusty grime, exhaust fumes, and noisy noisy streets, all I needed was some peace and quiet, preferably as Nature-inundated as possible...and all in one weekend. We (me and 6 others) took a $4 peso, 45-minute train ride out to Tigre, and from el centro (downtown), which is right along the river, we rode a $17 peso boat to our own private island. The ride came fully equipped with a very happy drunk man (hombre borracho) who was still on the boat hours later when one of those with internship delays caught up.

We arrived to this: An acre or so of privacy, tended to by our lovely (and very thorough) neighbors, Gustavo and his dogs. From the dock pictured, a path led about 25 yards in to a vintage-y spacious cabin. It was old-school; we had to turn on a gas heater to get hot water, and all the cups and mugs were older than you. A full parilla (Argentine BBQ) was set in the full yard, which we could enjoy from the grass or our decked out front porch. The beds had that homey/musty smell- not from being dirty, but from being designed in 1975. To top it off, the head of some gazelle-like creature watched over us in the main dining/living area. Cute.

Activities of choice? I chose to spend my weekend lying out in the sun, enjoying the greens of the Earth (and lungs), the bluest sky and the (brown) water. Yoga on the shoreline brought friendly waves and appreciative glances from the many locals and visitors either rowing merrily along or seated comfortably in the larger tour boats. For dinner? Steak, claro, and on the second night we chowed on some delicious beer-soaked choripan (sausage) and pasta (pasta). Unfortunately, my senora sent me off with a fresh container of dulce de leche, so I had my fair share of the spreadable sin along with lots of cheese, bread, and apples. And oh JOY we had eggs (at times in-a-basket) for breakfast. When supplies were low, the beerboat/floating market had more.

I brought my playing cards and the boys brought their guitars. We also managed to maintain a fully powered laptop with iTunes access, but my favorite music was played around the campfire that was built on Saturday night. It should be obvious by now that we came fully equipped with at LEAST 7 bottles of wine and then some.

It was a near-psychadelic experience. Revealing and exhilerating, to say the least. One thing I've realized is that the hard part of being away from home, for me at least, isn't so much the new place or language, but the isolation. I haven't been "on my own" since my freshman year of college, and at the time I was lucky enough to have a chica mola (cool girl) in the dorm next door. I barely knew this group of equally cool, down-to-earth, interesting and creative peers, but I was surprised at my own self-conscious anxiety. I know, I'm hilarious and fantastic ;), but nonetheless I was terrified of making the wrong move. This type of mindset goes against a lot of my thinking, but in the moment it is so difficult to escape from one's insecurities. While knowing how silly I was being, I initially stressed (internally) about what I was saying, how I was presenting myself, and what vibe I was exuding. Ironically, in trying to show who I am, I found myself stumbling into words and contradictions that did nothing of the sort. Of course, it is impossible to "say" one's identity, and so we tend to announce what we are not. Lesson learned? I hope so. The surprise I felt at my own awkwardness (which probably wasn't even real) served as a good reminder and grounding experience for what I am doing here. More then living in the moment, enjoying it. Mistakes only lead to a bettered understanding, and those who can't forgive you probably aren't worth your time. My new mantra isn't spoken, but I am now more consciously aware that I am "me"- the constant, cyclic, evolving process of personhood- regardless of location, idiom, or how I like my meat cooked (juicy). Hopefully, my new friends will see this too, and we'll be gallivanting off to another personal island paradise in no time...

Or this weekend. I'm going to Mendoza with the original Iguazu crew; Here I come vineyards!

A banana palace. Productive, I know... :)

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Breakfast

I am still somewhat confused about something I observed this morning. I arose from bed to make my good ole' cornflakes and milk and noticed something strange. A single cigarette sat on my windowsill, ashy butt facing out to the other 11 or so floors (and three walls) of this apartment complex. It certainly wasn't mine, unless I am smoking in my sleep, which I doubt considering my lack of craving or preference in daylight...I was so disconcerted I started to pour water into my cereal.
Could it have been one of my roommates, my senora or her daughter? As I didn't notice it yesterday, they would have had to be watching me sleep or extremely eager to watch other people's windows, both of which seem unlikely. And as there is a littering of ash trays around the house for exactly this purpose, why would they leave it there? The only other possibility is that an upper neighbor dropped it there by chance or...scaled the wall to leave me a smoky token? There are 5 locks- one for the main entrance, one for my elevator entrance, another next to the elevator in case we need to access the stairs, and two at our front door. If I have a stalker he/she is determined and/or an insider. Of course, Ana DID set some fresh sheets in my room, but she tries to keep my area clear of smoking in general out of courtesy...

If it happens again this webcam is going on night patrol...

As for breakfast it was about as satisfying as crunchy flakes + milk can be, although I am disappointed with my juice purchase. I eyes the aisles of OJ cartons looking for one that appeared fresh and pulpy but alas, my choice is more comparable to Tang...You can buy delicious fresh-squeezed glasses at restaurants or even from street vendors, but the packaged selections at grocery stores are more limited. Good thing they sell wine to make up for it. Speaking of wine, look out for my next post on my weekend in Tigre!