Thursday morning Guillermo picked me up at 8am sharp to swing by the office and prepare last minute things for the day's events, as well as throw a wine barrel in the back of his pick-up, to be dropped off at the winery later that day. Karim and his wife Pilar met us at the office and we all went to Campo los Andes, an old army base, where the wine tasting, asado and rafting would take place. Rio Extrema, the rafting company, is a cluster of little huts and buildings that host a restaurant (or rather, dining room where we're served the asado), rafting equipment, bathrooms and bales of hay and lounge chairs for hanging out. A sand volleyball court, swimming pool and ping pong table complete the scene, set against the Tunuyan River with the snow-capped Andes in the background.
The gringos showed up about an hour after us, a breath of American air I hadn't realized I missed. A mix of distributors, wine sellers, wine shop owners and a enologist/professor, they were selected by Altocedro's importer to attend the trip for various reasons... sales incentives, etc. As I shook their hands, they realized I was one of them, and the questions started flying. Are you a winemaker? How long have you been here? What in the world are you doing down here? Some seemed intrigued, some impressed, others just happy to have someone else to talk to after hanging with the same group for almost a week. One favorite was Kevin, who owns a tiny wine and coffee shop near Burlington, VT that focuses on sustainable and free-trade practices as well as small, family-run products. Another was Kenny, a fashionable, cowboy boots and Ray Ban-wearing enologist from Toronto who spends 10 days a month at home with his family and the rest traveling the world, educating and pontificating about wine. The day went smoothly, with the wine tasting first (favorable reviews all around - most were impressed with how drinkable the young Malbec was (the Ano Cero line) when compared to the other young Malbecs they'd tasted this week. After the tasting came the meal... empanadas to start, then salads, a baked pepper stuffed with egg and cheese, and of course the piles of meat. It was a hearty bunch, and they did us Americans proud. After lunch there was ping pong and volleyball, then rafting. Split into two rafts with a guide each, we embarked on the Tunuyan River for what was supposed to be a 45 minute tripover class 1 and maybe 2 rapids. Due to the lack of snow last winter, however, the river levels were lower than normal and our inexperienced guide Fernando didn't know how to steer us away from the jutting rocks, causing us to get stuck more often than not. One such rock tossed the raft just so, propelling poor Fernando like a missile. By the time he was able to clamber back into the raft, we had gone a few moments without any guidance and ran right into another, much larger rock. The boat tilted just so, causing water to start flooding in. Taking one second to asses the situation, I got the hell out of the raft and climbed up the rock, the others eventually following suit. I was laughing so hard I was crying. The site of these 50-something wine sellers in their ridiculous rafting suits, crowded on a tiny rock... the one time I wish my camera was waterproof. Finally the guides were able to take control of the situation and get us back into the raft. The 45 minute trip became a two-hour journey.
Back at the site, we warmed up with more wine and pizza, finally saying goodbye to the group around 8pm, whereas apparently 5pm was the norm with previous groups. Karim was my ride home, and after a few stops (picking his sister and niece up at a funeral in San Carlos, dropping the aforementioned barrel off at the winery, where I met Claudio, the vineyard manager who lives on site with his wife and son, Milli and Jamillo). Finally got back to the city by 11pm.
The next morning Karim and Pilar picked me up at 10am (only 30 minutes later than planned) to head out to the winery for family harvest day. Allow me to describe the driving situation here.
First, there is one highway that goes to La Consulta, and it is mostly only two lanes. It also becomes the main street of the city of Tunuyan for a while. Second, the majority of cars here are the mini European type, Citroens and the like, dating back to 1972-1985. The incredibly dry air apparently prevents rust and maintains cars so they run longer than usual here. That, and the price is right for the less than robust local economy. This often gives the impression I've stumbled back 30 years in time. Then there are the border controls. Between the gendarmia (looking for smuggled drugs), the fruit police (looking for uncertified produce. The Uco Valley is a controlled pest-free area) and the general craziness of rural living... men on bikes on the side of the highway, families hitch-hiking, cargo trucks full of grapes and tomatoes driving slower than I can walk... getting from point A to point B is never as direct as one would hope. Add to that the recent drama between the gas stations and the government regarding gas prices (everyone talks about the prospecting going on). Example: Guillermo and I drove to four different stations Thursday morning, each telling us "they were sold out," Guillermo scoffing under his breath they are definitely NOT sold out, finally skidding in on fumes, finding one that would fill us up). Point is... La Consulta is not exactly around the corner.
We meet Marta (the office admin) and Eugenia (the part time accountant) at one gas station on the side of the highway, as well as Guillermo and his wife Laura and their 15 month old baby Julian. After some mid-trip mate and medialunas, we were on our way. Finally get to the winery around noon, where we meet: Karim's parents and sister; Leo, the junior winemaker; Alejandro, who does the bureaucracy, dealing with the govt. and wine certifications; and Claudio, Milli and Jamillo. After a quick rah-rah speech from Karim, we grab our buckets and scissors and get to work snipping bunches of Malbec grapes off the vines. I'm the self-appointed photographer for the day, so only get to snip a few bunches, but I will definitely have my time in the coming weeks. After 20 minutes or so, just enough to get a feel for it, we head to the winery where we test out Karim's new double grape sorting machine and destemmer. 42 boxes of picked grapes are sorted, destemmed and fit into 3 barrels. These 3 barrels get some sulfites and fermentation starters mixed in, and are closed up to sit for 20-30 days, letting the yeasts do their thing and turn the juice into wine. Eventually the 3 barrels of juice will lead to just one barrel of wine.
Then it was back to Rio Extrema for another asado. Same deal as the day before, but in Spanish. After lunch, there was much lounging and talking, more mate, and I got my first dose of office female gossiping in Spanish. Trying my hardest to understand everything being said, I got maybe 50%. Much griping and laughing about married life as well as Marta's search for a boyfriend. The second dose of rafting (fortunately) didn't happen because of another group that took too long getting back. Then it was back to the winery for Karim to check on a few things with the construction workers (I should explain the whole winery is undergoing a reformation... new cement tanks, double-osmosis machine, as well as the aforementioned sorting table. The whole feeling is rather charming and antiquated, in stark contrast to the beautiful state of the art wineries you see in other parts of Mendoza. This one still has a touch of history). It was dark by the time we drove back to the city, and Karim asked us to talk to keep him awake. After discussing our families, Pilar is a child of 8 as well, I steered the conversation to questioning Karim about his opportunities in the U.S. and his vision for the future of the winery. I take notes, trying to make sense of exactly what I'm doing here... hoping something comes together soon in my head.
I get home with the desire to shower and email and relax, only to be told my dorm room has been infested with bed bugs, and they're fumigating. Apparently these things happen in hostels, where people come from long bus rides and other hostels. Sigh. I make it 2 & 1/2 years in NYC without bed bugs and I get them here, in Mendoza, Argentina?! We get strict orders to wash every article of clothing as soon as possible. Which is how I spent my Saturday... running back and forth to the laundromat as well as hand washing (via boiling water using a tea kettle) my more delicate items. Mind you, I have enough clothing for about a month... to span all four seasons. $11 for 3 washing machine loads, 2 hand-washing loads, and about 4 hours later, half my wardrobe is hanging on the lines for the hostel to see. There was something quite soothing pouring boiling hot water over my clothes... very cleansing. Even though most of my clothes were not even dirty, some still had their tags on.
Just got to Skype with Mack and Kara for a bit, they're having big weekend in NYC with the other PSU girls, which surprisingly evoked a few tears from me (man I must be lonely!). Also uploaded about 200 pictures from the 2 days at the winery and rafting so I can post them to the winery's FB page on Monday. Did not get the run in that I wanted. Maybe tomorrow.
Now it's off to get ready for a local children's charity event/auction put on by about 20 wineries. Altocedro is one of the hosts, and Karim bought me the 80 peso ticket. Apparently the who's who of Mendoza will be there, as well as some from Napa. I wisely hand-washed the bedbugs out of one my two fancy outfits last night, giving it enough time to dry today. Hopefully the bed bugs are gone and I can move rooms to the smaller dorm tomorrow (as they quarantined me today to ensure all BB are gone).
In summary, I'm finally doing what I came to do... but am left wondering what the hell I'm doing. Can I really spend a month in tiny La Consulta? Will I be able to make it during the harvest? Will I ever know when I'm doing what I'm meant to do?
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