Lazy days in the wine country

Two days ago I arrived in Mendoza, in the hazy morning light with multiple persons filling my hands with hotel/hostel fliers as soon as I disembarked from the bus. I politely declined in my sleeplessly hazed state of mind, and then more forcefully as they became more persistant. I collected my pack and joined my friend Michael inside the bus station. He went off to check something and I vigilantly stood guard over our things, as a few people came over and pointed behind me saying "You shouldn´t stand with your backpack exposed." A classic trick, as you turn around to see what is there, another person comes up and swipes what is sitting in front of you. I politely smirked a "Thanks" and anjusted my grip and position, slipping one of the pack straps around my leg and shoving myself securly up against the wall.

Once Michael returned we collected our things once again and caught a taxi to the highly reccommended HI-affiliated Campo Base Hostal. It was obvious from the guy passed out on the entry sofa that there had been some sort of crazy party there the night before, that had continued into the morning. We were led to a room up stairs, with a door that slid into the wall and where the bunk beds were about 1 foot away from that sliding door. The bedclothes were suspiciously damp and as we attempted to take a morning nap after our 19 hour bus ride. A worthless attempt, we gave up after an hour or so, and headed out to see what there was to see in Mendoza. After a rather unsatisfying breakfast, we found a nice contemporary art museum in the main square, with a refreshingly absent entrace fee. It was quite nice, with lots of original work, and I couldn´t help but think of Dani, and wish that she was there with me, since she would surely appreciate it far more that I. Through the park and down the street following the map we had been given by the hostel, where we discovered that Mendoza had a large park situated within the city limits, complete with a zoo, several fútbol fields, a rowing club, a fitness club, miles and miles of walking/running trails, a BMX track and the site of 1978 World Cup. We made our way to the zoo and were pleasantly surprised by the super cheap entrance fee and large variety of animals, complete with deranged polar bear in far-from-arctic conditions, lazy lions, tigers and bears, rhino, hippoo, a billion species of crazed monkeys, and of course, llamas. It was a good way to spend the day, and it felt good to get out and walk after weeks of relative inactivity, rich food and abundant drink.

Along the way we found another reccommended hostal and immediatly made a reservation for the next night. Then returned to the not-so-wonderful Campo Base. There we consulted "the book" once again for a good spot for dinner, found some cheap pizza and returned once again to the hostel for several rounds of cards, some beer and then a plan to head out after a bit. Around 1:15 am, still a bit early by Argenitinian time, we headed out and found fabulous ice cream, or helado. The richest ever and full of fantastic flavors. After that treat we once again resumed our search for a watering hole and found an "Irish Pub", of which there is one in almost every town in South America, surprisingly enough. We watched clips from the third place match between Germany and Portugal, incredulous at the score, since we were both going for Portugal for the third place. Around 3 we decided to call it a night, and began the short walk back to the hostal. We were stopped by the sight of McDonalds, welcoming us in the wee morning ours with crisp fries, generic cheeseburgers and glass bottles of World Cup collectors edition Coca-Cola (there you go Phil!). Bad food never tasted better, and I comforted myself with the thought that Argentina has the best beef in the world, and surely some of that has to trickle into the fast food stock. Perhaps not. I hastily brushed my teeth and squirmed, once again, between suspiciously damp bedclothes.

The next morning dawned quickly, with a rushed check-out and brisk morning walk to Winca´s, our new hostel, complete with a decent breakfast, clean rooms and mansion style bathrooms. We made a trek to the bus depot to find what was available for departure, me 14 hours east to Buenos Aires, Michael 19 hours north to Salta after discovering the pass to Chile was closed indefinetly and so all options to Santiago were out of the question. The sun was out, but the wind chilled as we walked back, stopped by the market and then hung out at the hostel as we waited for the World Cup to begin.

ITALY!!!!!! We were all so glad that France didn´t win and were even more elated to find an Italian among us who generously filled our glasses with champagne to toast the victory. We signed an Argentinian flag comemorating the World Cup this year and stating our sentiments about the battle to the end, depending on where you were from. The day was a lazy one, and after dinner we all watched a movie that lulled us to sleep and off to bed.

With my bus not departing until 7:30 tonight Michael and I decided to find something to do to prevent us from sitting around watching movies all day. The choice was paragliding, and without a thought or question of what it would actually entail we signed up and paid for our 2:30pm activity. In the meantime I discovered that there was a Delta airlines office in Mendoza, but it was closed for the customary 12-4pm lunch "hour", so hopefully we would return from paragliding in time for me to run down and have a check.

Two-thirty came around and our paragliding leader, German(that was his name, he was Argentinian so pronounce it with a Spanish pronunciation), came round to collect us, inquiring if we had jackets as he looked at our t-shirts. We collected our jackets and hopped in a car, wondering what we were really doing, after we realized that we had both assumed we would be towed behind a boat, but there was a distinct shortage of water in the vicinity. We were first taken to the landing field where we got into a truck with two other Argentinian guys and began our climb up the sharp mountains that jutted from the smooth valley floor. Up to 1600 meters we went to a flat area populated by other guides and tourists like ourselves, and then we truly realized that we would be running off the steep incline with a parglide picking us up from the ground. After waiting for the wind for awhile and having German repeat many times that I need to keep running, not sit down until he tells me, we were off, the gravel faded away and despite German´s insistance that I should keep running, my feet were already a good 2 feet off the ground and soon we were sitting in tandem in our makeshift harness seats with a stellar view of the mountain, valley and town below spread out before us. I began snapping away with my camera, but with no real hope of capturing the fullness of the experinece. Just 10 minutes later we were preparing to land, making tight circles in the wind and me preparing to run as soon as we hit dirt. It was an amazing experience, and only at the end I found that there they also have a school where you can become a certified paragliding instructor. I made a mental note on my list of things to do when I return to Argentina.

Back to Mendoza, and in time to check at the Delta office, where I found, despite all my optimistic persistance that it would cost me no less than $842 to fly from Buenos Aires rather than Lima, a good deal more than I had paid for my original round-trip ticket! So I resolved to return to Lima, despite all my dissappointment. The guy at the Delta office checked all the airlines for flights to Lima, and the price to bus it there was less than half. A phone call from the hostel, then another trip to the bus office to change my ticket from Buenos Aires to anywhere north. All the buses were already full, so I got a ticket to Salta for the night, resolving again just to stay one more night in Mendoza and kill one more day while waiting for the bus(again!). I watched my hotel friends depart for Salta, and said words of hope to see them there perhaps. Then walked to the supermarket and bought some food to live on and a chocolate bar to console my sorrow at leaving Argentina, and the rapidly approaching reality of being homeward bound.

Using a guidebook I planned a rough route through Argentina, into Chile and then to Peru, with a few highlighted stops along the way to make the journey a bit more meaningful and a little less body and soul-draining. There are some fabulous things that I would have never seen had this not occurred. So while I am still a bit down about the direction of my trip, and the finality of my time here, I am excited to see what this last week will hold and the little touches it will add to my farewell.