Homemade Alfajores Lesson!

Yesterday I finally got an authentic baking class on Argentine's national dessert, the alfajor, in Mili's kitchen. Traditional alfajores (alfajores de maizena) have a distinct light crumbly cookie that are made with a corn starch/flour/butter/vanilla/lemon rind/sugar dough, filled with dulce de leche and rolled in coconut. Very healthy. (I stupidly had no idea what the yellow box of Maizena was, even after Mili made me put my hand in it and feel how fine and suave it was. I still had to Google it. May have been my first time baking with about 2 cups of corn starch).

You see this version of the small homemade concoction in every kiosco, corner store, gas station, bakery, supermarket. There are of course many other varieties of them, non-homemade and found in shiny colorful packages, from triple chocolate to varied fruit fillings to even, yes!, peanut butter. Some are covered in chocolate, others in a white sugar glaze. This is pretty much their candy bar. But the alfajores de maizena are the real deal. And it's a super easy recipe, I can share with anyone who is so inclined as to try them out themselves.

Interestingly enough, they taste a lot better after cooling for a couple of hours, once the cookie has hardened a bit and the slight lemony flavor of the dough mixes with the caramely ducle de leche and coconut flakes. This went against my very core, as the classic American chocolate chip cookie is best right out of the oven, if you don't eat all the dough first. (Note to self: alfajor dough cannot compare to chocolate chip cookie dough. We've definitely got that on them).

As you can see, Yamil was in the kitchen helping us, fighting me to roll out the dough and cut the circles with a little shot glass. After a few practice batches, I let him have at it. He was also the coconut roller, whereas I spread on the dulce de leche, and Mili closed the cookies and smeared more ddl around the edges. We had quite the efficient assembly line going.

Definitely a good pairing with mate as well, I think today (after a 40 minute run to counteract them) may have been the first time I actually had the two traditions together.

As I write, it's about 10:30pm Saturday night and I'm waiting for Leo to come pick me up from the cabin (so I don't walk the unlit dirt roads alone) so we can hit El Cielo for dinner. Karim's back in Mendoza until Monday, but I think Celeste, one of the cellar hands, is joining us. 10:30 is late, what? Last night Jo, Karim and I were at El Cielo until 3am, talking politics, wine and the Royal Wedding. The fact that a 10:30pm dinner is early for me makes me feel like I'm FINALLY understanding... after almost four months, I get it!

I get your culture, Argentina.

Quick hello and photos of the wine safari

It's been a week of very slow internet, frustratingly slow, but I figured I'd upload some shots of yesterday's trip to Angulo vineyards, the most pristine vines I've seen thus far.

Immaculately straight rows, carefully cleaned pruning, clearly marked signs announcing the block's varietal, age, total number of hectares and plants per hectare. And it happened to be a perfect fall day, so the vineyards had amazing autumn colors, which contrasted brilliantly against the base of the purple Andes and bright blue sky.

I said brilliantly. You can tell I’ve been hanging with Jo, the Brit! (Jo is interning here for the week, having just completed eight weeks as a tour guide at Familia Zuccardi).

We were there for Karim to try different blocks of Cab Sav for Mariano, the owner of the vineyards. Karim is a consultant for his wines and determines when the grapes are ready for picking. We also tasted Tempranillo, Merlot and Malbec. Amazingly, the three blocks of Cab Sav all tasted differently, some spicier, some fruitier, some juicier. Even within one vineyard, the soils and rows of various blocks elicited very different characteristics.

We rode in the back of Cesar, the agronomist's, pick-up truck safari-style, amazed at the scenery and thinking we'd wake up from a dream at any second. Eddie and Jenny (from Napa) were also there, as well as Karim’s father.

It was also finally the day to pick the Malbecs for the Caymus experiment (they're shipping frozen Mendoza Malbecs to Napa and actually making the wine there), and all the Malbecs were being placed in bins packed in dry ice. Rebecca, I was instantly brought back to my Brewla Bar days! I had to warn Jo not to touch the dry ice, she had no idea!

It's been fun having her as a roommate this week, having someone to recap the things we've learned, ride to work with, walk around the vineyards with, and just have normal, non-wine, non-Spanish conversations with. A dose of normalcy in this far from normal gig. She'll be staying here until Saturday morning, then go back to Mendoza city for a week of Spanish lessons, and then off to BsAs when her boyfriend comes to visit. But she'll be back in Mendoza for a few weeks before heading back to London to start her new career as a corporate lawyer of some sort. Pshhh corporate law. She'll be back in wine country soon enough! If you only knew how many ex-lawyers turned sommelier or winemaker or vineyard owner we've met...

Coming at ya live from the Four Seasons, the overnight bus, and finally El Cielo

Ah, nearing the end of my third day in BsAs and I feel like it's been about a month. Can always rely on Jeff to show me a good time in my city (well, kind of my own city).

So how did I spend my City Slicker days?

On Wednesday Leo's mom was already planning on going to Mendoza for the night, so she gave me a ride, saving me from an extra 3 hour bus ride. She also surprised me with a really cute t-shirt with a faded print of the Argentina flag. Totally my style and size. First the mate mug, now the t-shirt. Less than two weeks and she already knows me!

Back in Mendoza for the first time after two weeks in the countryside, and I felt right at home. I had a few hours to spare before my bus to BsAs and spent the time at one of my favorite cafes, relishing the fast internet service and strong coffee. I was the only female in the café (besides the waitresses) as some important futbol game was on, and it was all business men in suits drinking beers,cheering on the big screen. It was the middle of the work day, mind you. The 13 hour overnight bus ride to BsAs was uneventful, as I like them. Terrible movie, though. Forced to watch Adam Sandler’s Grown-ups. Wow, has he gone downhill.

My bus arrived bright and early 8am Thursday morning. (Quick background on my trip to BsAs: Jeff and I met in 2005 on D.C.’s Gallery Place metro platform while commiserating about the wait for the yellow line, chatted the 30 minutes until I got off at Reagan airport, didn’t exchange contact info, then randomly ran into each other three weeks later while Jeff was ellipticalling at my the Washington Sports Club across from the RIAA office. The overwhelming excitement at the chance reunion was mutual and we have been good friends ever since. He is now living in Santo Domingo, DR, where he teaches at a ritzy private school and this week was his spring break. Once I bought my ticket to Argentina, we planned his visit immediately. His friend Shannon is a pilot for Frontier Airlines and thus travels pretty much for free. She also agreed to meet Jeff in BsAs, having never been here before in her much traveled career. They rented the apartment together for a week, and since I’m working the harvest, I only took a couple days off to come meet them). On my way to their kick-ass apartment in the best possible location in Palermo SoHo, I picked up a half dozen medialunas with a variety of fillings (dulce de leche, membrillo and cheese, plain) for what I was sure was a hungover Jeff and Shannon. Jeff greeted me groggily at the door, and we decided we could both go back to sleep. Our day got started around 1pm, when I took Jeff and Shannon to Helena, Amy's favorite cafe that she took me to my first week in town. Salads were a welcome treat, as they always are for tourists who have gorged on too much red meat their first few days in the city. Then we meandered around Palermo for a bit, I exchanged some earrings that had broken (as everything I buy here tends to break), we went grocery shopping at the Jumbo Easy (Argentine Wal-Mart) for our party that night, and stocked up on cheese, dulce de membrillo (this awesome quince paste stuff that is popular here and Spain), wine and olives. Oh, and 2 for 1 Skyy bottles. Let’s not forget those.

Meanwhile, I got a surprise email from Shelton, an old friend from my days at the RIAA in DC and now current NY’er, that he and his friend were coming to BsAs on a whim for the weekend (his friend Brandon’s aunt works for American Airlines, thus more free plane tickets) and was I going to be in town? Not only was I going to be in town, but with Jeff, who Shelton also knows since we all used to pal around the country’s capital when we were young’ns. I kept Jeff’s presence a secret, wanting to surprise Shelton when he got here.

(Photo of Shannon in her pilot suit. Hot!)

Back to Thursday night. By 9:30 people started arriving, including Shannon’s Frontier pilot and flight attendant friends Justin and Courtney, who were honeymooning, a group of Jeff’s newly made Argentine friends, and Maggie and Daniel, my old roommates and their friends. The apartment had two floors, with an open loft type second floor, roof deck with table and chairs and room for 20, huge living space, decorated like any mod NYC apartment. Stuck around the apartment until 1 or so, doing the usual twenty-something pre-bar rituals, and eventually made it out to the local scene. Home by 3:30.

(Here is a picture of the wines from the party we rated acceptable). The discard pile had 3 lonely bottles.

The next morning we lounged about the apartment, I Skyped my Dad a happy birthday and Happy Earth Day, Justin and Courtney came back over to join us for lunch, and then Shelton and Brandon, fresh from NYC, arrived. Jeff was hiding upstairs and I told Shelton I had a surprise for him. Jeff made his grand debut, slowly parading down the stairs wearing nothing but a tiny bathing suit and a scarf wrapped around his face, turban-style, having discarded his laboriously planned outfit in a matter of minutes. Tears were dripping down my face instantly, I was laughing so hard. “If this is my surprise, I think I know what it is, and I want it sent back,” responded Shelton in classic Shelton-style. The three of us hadn’t seen each other since last July, when Jeff visited NYC, so it was pretty bizarre and awesome to all be together in the Southern Hemisphere.

Our massive accumulation of Americans headed to a leisurely lunch in Palermo, to another café Amy had showed me (bBlue!) and then more walking around Palermo. Shelton and Brandon went sightseeing, Shannon, Courtney and Justin had flights back to the States that night, so eventually it was just Jeff and me. We went hunting for English books for Yamil (Ingles for Dummies and James in the Giant Peach), baby gifting for Schwartz, shoe shopping for Jeff. Successful on all accounts. Even picked up a NYC Deli cookbook in Spanish for Mili, which I was really excited about.

Jeff and I got to have some quality one on one time, talking expat life, our fears of what we were doing, what would come of our futures, all the meta-heavy stuff you brush off in your day to day life and don’t really talk about except with your closest friends (and of course parents) of which neither of us have near us at the moment. I invited him to come down and stay with me this summer, since he’s less than excited about spending his three month summer vacation in Denver. I think he may, if he can rent his house and figure out his financial situation. It would be amazing to have him here, as well as travel around SA together. I think he’d also appreciate my shopping expertise. We found him the most amazing pair of brown leather shoes that I would kill to have, if I wore a men’s size 9.

Jeff in Teran, the fabulous museum-like men's shoe store in Palermo.

Shelton and Brandon came back to our apartment later that evening to go to dinner with us, and we introduced them to a traditional parilla, at Trapiche, new for me, but recommended by Jeff who had been earlier in the week. Excellent and authentic and cheap with perfectly rare steak. Just what we wanted. Back to the apartment to pre-game with Jeff’s ever-growing group of friends (about 20 this time), and we finally headed to Crobar around 2am. Remember, Crobar is the massive dance club where I went with Chris and Tujina back in January. Never thought I’d be back, but alas, gotta go with the flow. Actually had a really fun time, even though Jeff had to leave by 3:30 to catch a 6am flight. Being the single lady amongst a massive group gays made me nostalgic for my days in DC and I definitely enjoyed the night. I stayed with Shelton and Brandon and crew until about 5am, at which point I went back to the apartment (which I now amazingly had to myself). Was up at 8:30, not being able to sleep anymore for god knows what reason. Waited for the apartment lady to come by and check out the place to ensure Jeff would get his security deposit back. Ran some errands, looking for peanut butter and marshmallows (two things Yamil and Mili asked me about, having seen them in American movies but never in a store), as well as a dress my mom had spotted on her visit here and was still pining for. Had to go to the Carrefour to find peanut butter, as the local Disco didn’t have any, and even then only found some bummer Argentine brand that I had tasted before and had disliked, as well as a random Planters jar. I went with the Planters.

Bags in tow, I headed to the Four Seasons in Recoleta, where Shelton and Brandon were having a lazy morning, with room service and Mean Girls playing on the flatscreen TV. Leafed through a NY Magazine, caught up on some American pop culture. It’s nice having friends who know how to treat themselves well! Was the perfect way to spend a few hours. Shelton decided he wanted some fresh air and we headed to the artisan market in Plaza Francia and the Recoleta cemetery. I wanted to get a pair of earrings for Leo’s mom for being so sweet to me, and Shelton wanted to check out the cemetery. Then it was time to meet Ayelen (my 20-year old Spanish teacher from my language school/ now true porteña friend) for a few hours. We cafed it up, and she went back to the Four Seasons with me to get my bags and accompany me to the bus station. Not sure when I’ll be back in BsAs, but I’m sure we’ll see each other again, somewhere, sometime.

Now I’m back on the bus, in my usual front-row, top level seat. Just lost out on this trip’s AndesMar Bingo, with one number left to be called, and am waiting for dinner to come out.

This is now the third time I’ve restarted writing this, and I’m at Cielo, mainly for their internet access, secondly for dinner. Got to Mendoza city earlier than planned, at 9:25 and was able to catch the 9:45 Express to La Consulta. Thankfully didn’t have to wait until the 11am “common” bus. Got to LC just before noon and walked the 25 minutes to my cabin since my bike was still at the winery. I quickly showered, did some laundry and turned around and walked back to the winery to join Mili and family for an Easter lunch. Her parents were there, as was her younger brother, his wife and their four year old daughter. Spent the day having lunch (salad, amazing roasted chicken her dad made, and her mom’s homemade bread), giving them their gifts, seeing Yamil’s collection of foreign money (Euros, Mexican pesos and Brazilian Reales) teaching him how to make s’mores with the marshmallows I brought, using pieces of his giant chocolate Kinder Easter egg and coconut cookies (still no graham crackers to be found). The kid was going to town on the burnt marshmallows; I thought he’d be sick. Mili finally had to tell him to stop with the sweets. We had mate, we talked about my trip to BsAs and the differences between the cities, again we talked how Mili and family had never been anywhere. They asked how it was to fly in a place, be in the clouds, see the water. I swore to myself once day I would buy her a ticket to the States (or at the very least, BsAs).

Yamil accompanied me on a quick bike ride back to the cabin so I could take my laundry out of the machine, hang it, and put another load in. I also dug out a crumpled U.S. $1 bill for him to add to his collection.

Later in the day, as the sun was setting and I waited for El Cielo to open so I could get my daily internet fix, I brought out the Ingles for Dummies book and started teaching Yamil and Mili together. The ABCs and days of the week took hours. I must practice my patience! But since the book is written in Spanish, it’s actually quite a good lesson for me as well. Tomorrow I think Jo is coming down with Karim, so I’ll have a roommate for a few days. Also going to make banana coconut bread with Mili. The harvest is apparently going to last a week longer than expected, so I have to see about renting the cabin an extra week.

I got a call from Carolyn yesterday, just saying hi, and I told her I was interested in hearing about the position she had mentioned a few weeks ago, if it was still open. She said of course it was, they were just waiting for me! Solid.

So, another big thanks to Jeff for visiting, as well as setting me up in his amazing rental. Also want to thank Shelton for donating his remaining pack of Orbit gum, two issues of NY Mag, and one Vanity Fair. Shannon also gave me an extra pack of unopened Orbit gum. Gold! (Argentine Beldent leaves MUCH to be desired).

Second Astor Blog Posting Today!

http://blog.astorcenternyc.com/

A bit dry, but it gets the job done. Hopefully the next one will be a bit more entertaining.

In the meantime, here's a picture of what I see when I leave my cabin in the morning.

Suckers.

A week into country living: space heaters from another era, more produce than I can stomach, and a few homemade meals

Sunday, Sunday.

The day of rest and family asados for the locals, but for me, the day of laundry, the supermarket and the hunt for a good internet connection. And the time to write a REALLY long posting.

The USB modem card thing I have been borrowing from Leo continues to disappoint and I haven't been able to get a strong enough connection to upload any decent amount of pictures. The few pictures I upload to FB take between 5 and 20 minutes each. Long enough to make you want to throw your computer into a tank of fermenting grapes and call it a day. This is what brings me to El Cielo, where everyone knows your name, where Karim and I eat almost every meal, where I have memorized the menu, on my day off. Amazing cafe cortado though, and strawberries with whipped cream suits me well right now.

To recap the past few days, the weather had taken a cold spell after the Zonda winds came through on Wednesday, and out came all my Patagonian/snowboarding layers at once. The days are warm (low-mid 70s), the nights quite brisk (40s). With my schedule at the winery being usually 9:30 am-10:30 pm, layers are key. A typical day would start with me riding the men's mountain bike 10 minutes, half on dirt roads and half on pavement, to the winery, saying hi to the horse along the way I've named Charlie, the random rooster, neighbor's squealing pigs, past the corner stores with truck drivers loading up on medialunas and tortas. At the winery, I greet Leo, Claudio, Karim and the cellar hands, which includes the requisite besos, then boot up my computer and internet, wander around the winery to see what's new with the tanks and barrels, take notes, take pictures, and tag along with Karim on a tour with whatever visitor of the day he has. (He has had one, if not multiple, every single day). I have an ongoing Word doc titled "Altocedro Harvest Log" which is constantly open, and I jot down random notes, just to keep the days straight. An example, from April 13th: "New experiment with Syrah! Arrived today – enough for one tank. 2011 Año Cero will only have Cabernet and Tempranillo. Will create a new line called Corte Classico de la Zona – entry level – a blend of Malbec, Syrah, Merlot and Tempranillo."

I've already mentioned the mate sessions, which usually happen with Leo before lunch and then with Mili in the afternoon/evening. Karim and I head to lunch at El Cielo anywhere between 1 and 3, depending on what's going on at the winery and what fires he's putting out. We often have guests join us, whether it's a group of women from Southern California who work for a wine importer (and want me to blog for them), or the visiting Guillermos, or a Venezuelan woman who lives in Miami and is representing a group of investors about to open a winery with Karim as consultant. I continue to get insight into many facets of the wine business, helping me pick what I may or may not want to do.

The meals at El Cielo continue to amaze me, considering where we are. From the perfectly flaky and puffy empanadas to the cooked just right homemade pasta, to the works of art salads, to the works of art desserts, I have not had a bad meal yet. I am seriously considering inviting the chef's son, the 20-something assistant chef, to come to NYC and open an El Cielo outpost. It would do that well. Sometimes lunch includes a few bottles of Altocedro wine, making it tough to go back to the winery. But back we go.

On Friday Leo invited Karim and me to lunch with his parents at his grandmother's house. It was the first time Karim had been invited to lunch with Leo's family (in four years of working together), whereas it was already my second (first being this past Monday when Karim was still in Mendoza). The kitchen, with its cartoony fruit tablecloth and multi-colored furniture, was straight from the 1950s, and the food was great. Fresh tomato and fennel salads, corn on the cob, roasted veggies, chicken milanesa, and of course a bag full of apples from the family plantation for me to take home. Leo's mom also surprised me with a gift, my very own mate mug! Black and covered in little flowers, it was spot-on my style, and I was very appreciative of her thoughtfulness. Karim even commented how sweet she was with me. Later that day I rode my bike to a despensa (corner store) and bought a bag of mate for Leo and me, as we had run recently run out. 6 pesos ($1.50) for a bag that should last 1-2 weeks.

After lunch, the afternoons consist of finally uploading whatever pictures and FB posting I have been able to bang out that day, usually recapping the activities from the day before. Sometimes I get a run or walk in, jogging up and down the vineyard rows, loving the view of the looming purple snow-peaked Andes, avoiding the prickly weeds and scary neighbor dogs. Stopping to snack on bunches of Malbecs along the way probably counteracts the run, but I can't help myself. I am constantly eating grapes, whether directly from the vine, from the plastic bins waiting to be destemmed, or in the form of fermenting juice or wine.

By 7 or 8pm I'm usually pretty restless and start asking Leo what I can help with. He often gives me a menial task of measurements or shows me something completely new. Again, more picture taking and note writing. The sun sets around 7:30/8 and if I get too cold, I run over to Mili's to warm up with some mate and give a quick English lesson to Yamil. One day she stocked me up with jumbo tomatoes, basil and peppers from her garden to add to my collection from my señora. (Had one of her tomatoes this morning, didn't add salt or oil or anything, and it may have been the best tomato of my life. Mack, you would be in heaven. Seen below with Leo's family's apples, one of which I just ate as well. Super crisp and tart).

One very cool thing I learned one very cold night (the night of the Zonda) was during a pumpover, if the juice has been fermenting long enough, the carbonic gas/yeast gives off heat! Seriously, enough heat to make a difference. That night, among the sound of the pumps and pressure-cleaners, I stood over the bin of juice with my hands spread out as if over an open fire, getting my blue and white Burton shirt sprayed with juice every few seconds and not caring. Cool science!

Usually by 10:30 or 11 the crews have gone home and the machines pressure cleaned for the night. With my bike loaded in the back of his truck, Karim and I head back to El Cielo, bringing our laptops to take advantage of the somewhat-better internet. We push them aside when the food comes, and talk politics or philosophy or current events or music or family or sometimes even wine.

Karim usually drops me off around midnight/12:30, sometimes 1, when the señora and her daughter are already sleeping and all the houses are dark. Not the best time to figure out the heat in the cabin. Silly me thought oh, there's a knob, I'll just turn it on! Right. Nothing happened. So after eyeing a black hose wrapped around the room, I realize I have to turn on the gas, using the little lever on the wall. Nothing. Ten minutes of back and forth with the lever on the wall and the knob on the heater and I give up. I sleep in all my clothes, under a massive amount of blankets. I sleep like a baby, but it's the morning that is painful. I vow to ask someone how to work the heater. But when I go to leave in the morning, Marcela, the owner, has already gone to work.

So I ask Mili when I get to the winery. She shows me how hers works, you have to turn on the gas and press the ignitor button! Hers looks a lot newer than mine, but I shrug and figure, they can't be that different. That night Karim wasn't feeling well, with the premonition he was about to get a kidney stone (he knows the symptoms) so we skipped dinner at El Cielo. Was just as well as I was full from an evening snack with Mili and when I got home there was a plateful of fresh tomatoes, zapolla (awesome little squash with delicious seeds), onions, and garlic from the señora. I cook up a little stir fry, and return to my battle with the heater. There is no ignitor button. Utterly confused, I watch a bootleg copy of Il Postino while drinking hot tea and covered by a blanket, cursing the heating gods. I know there's gas because the water heater uses gas as does my little 2-burner camping stove, and can't figure out what I'm doing wrong.

The next morning when Leo asked how I slept, I told him about the heater fiasco. He shook his head, laughed and promised to take a look later. Mili had invited me over for dinner for Claudio's birthday celebration last night and they borrowed Leo's truck to pick me up, since by 10pm it would be too dark for me to ride my bike on the unlit dirt roads. Claudio took a look at the heater and saved the day. I needed a MATCH! You turn on the gas from the wall, push IN the knob on the heater, and stick a lit match in. Now, up until about 5 years ago, thanks to my brother lighting the house on fire when I was 2, I wouldn't even touch a match, lighter or candle, much less stick a flaming match into oozing gas in an old heater. But you do what you have to do in these situations. They did tell me, however, not to sleep with it on. Warm the room up and turn it off.

Claudio's birthday dinner at Mili's was exactly what I wanted; a crazy loud Argentine family asking me amazing questions about the US (do you know any famous actors? no famous people at all? do your brothers love American football? do you live in an apartment like the movies?).

As Claudio doesn't have much family, Mili had her parents over as well as her two brothers with their wives and children. I was mostly the focus of the conversation, laughing when I understood nothing, taking pictures and video of the birthday cake and singing. There were homemade empanadas and pizza, store bought roasted chicken, salads, olives, more empanadas, more pizza. And a gorgeous homemade fruit tort/ birthday cake. When asked where else in the world I have been, I started listing the countries and eventually stopped well short of Asia, seeing the looks on their faces. I don't think anyone had left the province of Mendoza, much less the country. They laughed it off, saying, we've been there through DirecTV! I explained how it was different, how our salaries allow us to travel, how the whole system was different. They nodded in solemn agreement. Again, I vowed to return Mili's hospitality with something, feeling guilty for being fortunate to have had the experiences I have had.

Earlier in the night, when Claudio and Yamil had run into the restaurant to get the roasted chicken, Mili asked me how I was liking it here and I said I was enjoying my time and the tranquility. I could tell something was on her mind and she told me she felt like they lived in the Stone Age compared to the rest of the world. I explained that no, they didn't, that it's just a different culture down here. There's less emphasis on money and material things, and as a result, less people are stressed and depressed, whereas in the US it's always "I want, I want" and people are never happy with what they have. She agreed, that she was content with her home the way it was, because it was her home. But she also said if she won the lottery, she would come visit me in NYC. I promised her if I ever have the money, I would send her. Sigh. Dinner ended around midnight, with all the family members trickling out. Then two of Claudio's friends came over, as did Leo. Out came the Fernet and Coke, and the Andes beers. I stomached two small glasses of Fernet and Coke, listened to the jokes and stories about other workers at the winery, and by 2am Leo could tell I wanted to go home. He invited me out to the local club, I politely declined thinking up a plethora of excuses and then just being honest that I wasn't in the mood. He thought I didn't like going out, but I honestly was just looking forward to turning on that heater and climbing into bed! (I dragged the heater from the main room to my bedroom, heated it for 10 minutes, then turned off the gas).

This morning was the perfect fall morning, with a strong sun, blue skies and crisp air. I ran into the señora on my way to the grocery store, paid her half my rent, and she showed me around her garden. The vines' grapes have already been picked and she said she'll bring me some of their homemade wine (they make 450 liters a year). She told me not to hesitate if I needed anything, I asked what the German Shephard's name was. Elvis. Of course. I threw a load in the laundry and biked over to the supermarket to buy the weekly yogurts, snacks, water as well as ingredients to make my coconut banana bread for Mili and family. Bananas, check. Flaked coconut, check. Butter, sugar, eggs, flour, check check check. But of course baking soda was not to be found, only some weird refrigerated yeast paste. May have to buy some in BsAs this weekend and wait until next week if Mili can't find it tomorrow.

While waiting for the second round of laundry to finish so I could hang it on the line before heading to the winery, I walked around the property and took pictures of the apple, plum and quince trees, the biggest rosemary bushes I've ever seen (Thanksgiving every day for years!), corn stalks, cabbages, the horse, my cottage, my laundry on the line.

Still having issues loading pictures to Flickr, so you'll just have to wait until I'm in BsAs later this week visiting Jeff! Taking the overnight bus Wed. night, coming back Easter Sunday. Then Jo (my Brit friend who was a tour guide at Zuccardi) comes to stay! Karim okay'ed her being an intern of sorts for a few days so she'll be staying with me, since I have another bedroom.

Getting to know the locals.

Let’s talk about Milly, Claudio’s wife. Claudio is the vineyard manager and they live in a house on the property about 20 yards from the winery, in view of everything. Their son, Yamil, is a very sweet-natured 9 year old, turning 10 in August. Milly’s my age, just a month older, yet lives an entirely different life. Claudio, who she met when she was in high school, is 37 years old and, from what I heard through the grapevine (no pun intended), got kicked out of the army after pulling some crazy stunt while driving a tank during practice. Can you imagine me married to a 37 year old military veteran and having a 10 year old son?

As my work on the winery is what one might call a leisurely respite, and Milly works half days, we have begun to have a daily mate session (the traditional Argentine drink – loose yerba mate tea that is sipped through a metal straw and passed around and around for hours), where we talk about all normal life things. Of course, being born and bred in La Consulta, she speaks zero English. This makes things fun when neither of us know the words we want to say. She has 3 brothers, all who have moved out of LC. The farthest brother is a chef in Spain, the others live in the Mendoza area. The only place she has been to besides LC is Mendoza city. This is incredible to me. They don't have a car, and buses take forever to get anywhere here, as I think I may have already explained. So she is pretty much stuck here, in this little one-stoplight town, surrounded by vineyards and the Andes.

They would love to save to buy a computer, as Yamil is always asking for one, but after explaining the reality of their finances, it just doesn’t seem possible. After the month’s groceries, Yamil’s school and English classes, the cable and gas, there is barely anything left over from Claudio’s salary, which is why Millie took up a job working at a dairy. They do get to live on the vineyard property for free, which makes it surprising that they have zero left over. What would you do if you had to pay rent I asked her? She shrugged, “work more,” she responded. She dreams of winning the lottery, visiting the States, of buying a car, or the computer for Yamil. If she won the lottery, she would build homes for the elderly and poor children, as well as a local hospital, as there is a lack of doctors in the area. No pediatricians apparently. The Good Samaritan in me wants to buy her a ticket to Santiago for a weekend, send Yamil to the States to learn English, buy her something, anything new and decadent! Of course, I realize I am far from the first person to experience such stark cultural differences and want to do something to help.

I think the mate sessions are also special because the only other person at her job to is a 60 year old woman who she said doesn’t talk to her very much. So she has her husband and son, the vineyard staff and then this one coworker. Her parents live on the other side of the Plaza, but since they don’t have a car, it’s a bit far to get to she says. About 25 blocks. When she goes to the supermarket, she has to take a cab home, again, since they don’t have a car. But I think in cases like this, not knowing what you don’t have is a kind of bliss. It would be worse if she had had all these things and it was taken away… right?

So in addition to the mate, out comes the food. She introduced me to dulce de batata, a sweet potato gelatin that has a very nice vanilla flavor that you would eat with cheese or by itself. Then came the vanilla lady finger like cookies she will make Claudio’s birthday cake with. Then a nougat and peanut candy bar, kind of like a Nutty Buddy but with white chocolate. I told her I couldn’t eat everything because I wouldn’t fit in my pants. Oh no, this won’t make you fat! she said. Sure.

So when Milly and Yamil asked me what peanut butter was (they had heard a lot about it in American movies), I of course had to have them taste it! Fortunately my mom and Robin had kindly brought me a jar of Peanut Butter and Co. chunky peanut butter. I am still working on polishing off my Trader Joe’s jar that I had brought with me back in January (hadn’t craved it until recently), so I brought my one full jar of PB to share with them. What kind of American would I be if I horded my peanut butter? First I had them try it with just bread. Then with Milly's homemade peach jam and bread. They agreed it was better with the jam and it was very delicious, but they barely ate more than two bites! Apparently they don’t eat a lot of peanuts down here and it makes their stomachs “caliente.” I told them I had never heard of that, but that I was very used to eating it and could eat it all day. No caliente stomach for me. They did want to keep the jar but I compromised and gave them half. No way was I parting with the whole thing! They also asked about marshmallows, which I was surprised by because I had seen them in Mendoza as well as Patagonian Chile, where I made the Brits some s’mores the one night while camping. I must find some in BsAs when I go next week and bring them back.

I also have taken to teaching them a bit of English, starting with numbers and colors, which they already know somewhat. Then we moved on to body parts and things around the house. The most difficult thing is pronunciation. “Th”and words ending in “d” and “r” stick out. (My Spanish is increasingly getting better with each round of mate). The only references they have, I realized, are whatever B-movies and TV shows come through the Argentine cable and this little workbook Yamil got from his school, that has very dumbed down English that is borderline incorrect. Lots of Disney pictures and other random storylines that I think may make the language even more difficult. So I brought over my Spanish-English dictionary since they don't have one, and I barely use it. If I need to look something up, I use Google Translate (as I mentioned, they don't have a computer, so this is the least I can do).

I’ve also started drinking mate with Leo, the junior winemaker who I shadow around when I’m not writing a blog, taking pictures around the winery, or talking with Millie. Slowly becoming a mate addict between Leo and Millie. They’ve got me hooked on the sweet version. When I only knew about the bitter, no-sugar version, I was better off because I could take it or leave it. Now I’ve come to enjoy and almost crave the caffeinated tradition, especially as the temperature starts to drop with the change of seasons.

Ah, the country life. I think I can get used to this.

Wednesday night I met up with Carolyn, her mom and daughter at a hostel her husband just bought. She showed me around and convinced me to stay there when I get back to the city. She also gave me a farewell gift of local olive oil. Bizarre, I thought, but very sweet. Then it was off to the Vines to buy my face soap from Mariela, the girl I went to the asado with the previous weekend. Juliet, the Vines manager, was also there and gave me an industry discount on a bottle of wine I wanted to bring to Lindsay’s asado, which was next on my list. She also introduced me to the girl behind the bar and told her to always give me the discount. Then it was off to Lindsay and her boyfriend’s hostel for an asado they were throwing for friends who were visiting from New Zealand (Christina! I thought of you!). Cara and some of the girls from the wine tasting night came, and it was the basic drink wine, eat meat, kind of night. Got home at 2am and was up at 7am to be ready for Guillermo by 8 am.

Hauled all my bags to the front of my hostel at 8:02, no sign of G. Warily checked my email on my iPod and saw a note from him that he was now picking me up at 10. Grr. Attempted to nap on a hammock, then a couch, then gave up and read.

Once G. picked me up, we went to a palette factory, picked up some new palettes for the grape bins to be transported with and headed to the office for an hour so we could both check email. Then we drove around to two different labs looking for something one of the winemakers had forgotten last minute. Then it was off to the winery, stopping first at the gas station off the highway to fill up and getting a lunch of medialunas and facturas (croissants and pastries). Then G. had to find a wifi hot spot to send an invoice that was due in 20 minutes. Mind you, we were at a gas station on the side of the road outside of Mendoza. Fortunately the restaurant next to the gas station was wired and we sat there until his business was done. Finally made our way to the winery by 3:30pm. There I get my first taste of the harvest and immediately start taking pictures. Of the pickers among the vines, the sorters on the table, the tanks, the barrels, everything. Eddie was also there, one of the kids from Napa who came down for an internship. He had been doing a week stint with Karim, and was already there two days. Helpful to have an English speaker show me the ropes my first two days. He is a winemaker for his parents’ winery in Napa, Attrazetto, so was able to also explain a lot about what was going on as well as what was different between Napa and Mendoza.

I spent a large part of Thursday and Friday following him and Leo, the junior winemaker, around, asking questions, taking pictures, but not doing much real work. The fact of the matter is they have plenty of hired labor, and me picking grapes or sorting them is taking away work from someone else. But eventually I said I didn’t want to just sit there and take notes, give me something to do! So I was taught how to take daily measurements of the wine, including Baume (density of the juice – fermenting stops when it hits 0 as alcohol actually is lighter than water) and the temperature (this should go up as the juice turns to wine). Also was shown how to roll the barrels (instead of punching down the cap as you would in a tank, you roll the barrels to mix up all the solids and the must with the liquid part of the juice). Saturday I was shown how to help with the pumpovers (see picture) as well as adding nutrients to the first day tanks.

The end of the day Thursday Karim surprised us with a mini celebration to kick off the harvest with a bottle of sparkling Chardonnay. He, Guillermo, Leo, Claudio and I sipped our bubbles watching the sunset over the vines. That's the kind of guy Karim is. More about him in another post!

The winery, with its peeling paint and crumbling bricks, the historical dilapidated charm, with young college-aged workers singing along to top 40 music sorting grapes and hosing down machines, the forklift coming and going, smell of fermenting grapes, all leads to a unique energy that I’ve yet to encounter in a workplace. Everyone working to create wine!

Winemakers must finesse their tastebuds and know when something is up. They taste each barrel and tank every day. So of course now I’m getting to taste grapes in various stages of life, and taste juice in various stages of fermentation. I like it all.

As for living situation, I spent my first two nights in the town’s one hostel, which was more bare bones than I had remembered, run by a middle aged hippy named Daniel who blasted dance, rock, reggae, whatever music whenever he had the chance. Also a lingering smell of ganja in the air. I had my own room, but it consisted of one sad super narrow twin bed, a wooden table and one chair. No shelves or drawers to put anything on, and it was on the ground floor with a window that faced the plaza. Which happens to be next to a rowdy locals’ bar. The bathroom also left much to be desired (remember, I stayed at a hostel, in a dorm, for 2 &1/2 weeks in Mendoza, I’m not being a snob here). I was able to walk to the winery in 15 minutes for what it was worth. And go to a kiosko or café if I needed anything. But what would I need? Every lunch and dinner is done at El Cielo. More about that later. For 200 pesos more, I decided to make the move to the cabaña I had seen with Natalia. An adorable guest house about a10 minute bike ride out of town. Daniel didn’t take it very well that I was bailing on the “contract” since I said I was staying the month, and charged $150 pesos for the 2 nights, whereas the whole month was 1,000 pesos. Karim thankfully has the patience of a monk and wants the best for me, so he defended me. He laughed that Daniel, a La Consulta socialist hippy, was trying to teach me, a NY’er, how things are supposed to be done in business. He also is happy to split all housing with me, including the extra 150 pesos for the hostel, and is covering the entire 200 extra pesos for the cabin. He wants to make sure I’m happy and comfortable.

So I have no idea why I didn’t take the cabin the first time! It is the charming guest house on the land of a 70-something señora and her husband, who live on one side and her 40-something daughter and kids who live on the other. A horse is out front, and a German Shephard greets me every time I walk on the property. Inside, there’s wooden furniture and beams, brick walls, a straw thatched roof, wooden window coverings and a tile floor. Also various plants and pieces of art. The one main room has a kitchen table and chairs, a coffee table and 2 sitting chairs, a TV with 3 channels and a DVD player, an old lumpy couch that I’ve taken a liking to when writing, a tiny corner dedicated to the kitchen – a sink, half-fridge, 2-burner gas stove that you’d take camping, but plenty of cookware and glassware. Then there are the two bedrooms, mine with a king bed, bureau, armoire and nightstand (places to put my things! No living out of a backpack!), and a view of vineyards and the Andes. The other room has 2 single beds, perfect for when/if Jo and Cara come down to visit as they said they want to. And of course a tiny bathroom, all my own, where I can leave my towel and toiletries. Really, it’s the simple things in life.

Last night was the first time I slept without ear plugs in 3 months. All I could hear were dogs barking. No honking cars, no late night revelry. It was also the first time I cooked in Argentina (the cute little señora left me a bowl full of fresh veggies that I stir fried up with Carolyn’s oil…). The first time I watched a movie in Argentina (Marcela, the daughter, brought me a logic case full of 40+ burned DVDs since the TV channels are shit). Watching a Danish film (After the Wedding) with Spanish subtitles was actually pretty enjoyable. Waking up today versus waking up yesterday was such a difference in my attitude. Enjoying where you sleep can affect your mindset tremendously.

As for food, during the week, Karim takes all his meals at El Cielo, the restaurant where Guillermo and I ate my first time here. Surprisingly good, with new plates of the day everyday, as well as a solid menu that includes salads that are works of art and some of the best empanadas I’ve had so far. Also always homemade bread that come with a different spread each day. The winery has a tab at the restaurant, so anytime I want to go, I can. The desserts look like something from a NYC bakery. The other night Karim had a cream cheese type tart with macerated red berries, a hazelnut/walnut crust and hazelnut/chocolate sauce. I had a fruit salad and half of his dessert. There is also WiFi and great café cortados. It also seems to be THE gathering place for all local winemakers, who come and chat with Karim and share bottles of new wines that have yet to be bottled or marketed. Lunch is usually a two-hour affair. When Eddie was here, it was the 3 of us, but now it’s usually just Karim and myself, as well as whoever cares to join us. Getting to know Karim quite well. He loves talking philosophy, politics, world events and is extremely well-read. Favorite bands include Led Zeppeling, the Doors, Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains. He goes back to Mendoza every Saturday night until Monday morning so he can see his wife and change his clothes.

So today was my day off, Leo came by and dropped off a bike for me, I used Marcela’s washing machine to do two loads (free!), made it to the grocery store before its 1pm closing, napped, wrote, Skyped with both parents, and went for a run (damn the elevation hurts!). I also managed to get a bit lost on my first bike ride to the winery to give Leo back his aircard/modem that he had let me borrow last night. Riding a dude’s bike with the seat too high on a gravel dirt road where you don’t know you’re going is not fun. Just putting that out there. But when you get lost, you’re in the middle of grapevines and the Andes, so there’s something to be said for that. Here's what I saw when I was lost:

Writing three blogs now, and I fear this one will take the brunt of the beating. The Altocedro harvest log, a new something extra for Astor Center's blog back home ("Astor volunteer turned cellar rat/harvest intern!") and of course the original, BerkSpot. So if I am delinquent in this, please, please read Altocedro’s FB page and/or Astor Center’s blog.

Finally learned how to type an ñ! And other fun tidbits.

Or I should say, I finally cared enough to look it up. Until now, I shamefully admit I had been copying and pasting ñ's from Google Translator or Altocedro's website... silly me. It's so easy! On a mac you just hold down OPT+n and then follow up with another n. Coooool.

Just got off an hour and a half Skype session with my brother Anthony and his fiance (!!!) Julie... and now I'm testing him to see if he's reading this. After the questions he was asking me, it was very clear he hadn't been updated in quite a while. Testing, testing... you there, Anthony? Anyway, his word of advice... travel as long as you can. Don't come back. Spend all your money, you'll make it back later. Wise advice, old man. I may take you up on it! Already getting the travel itch to move on soon... after the harvest of course.

Last night was the fourth of our wine tasting group and it was "wild white" night. We tasted 6 different whites that are atypical to the area, from Semillon and Pinot Gris to Verdelho and Bressia. My favorite of the night was of course the most expensive (doh!), the Lagrima Canela Bressia which retails for about $42 USD. But my second fave was the cheapest of the night, the Santa Julia Innovacion Verdelho, about $5 USD. So there you go. Here's a pic of this week's group (it changes a bit each week).

The girl on the far left is Cara, the organizer, Jo is the blonde pixie to my right, Katie is next to her, and the rest I haven't really talked about except Lindsay and her bf. They're on the couch towards the back.

After the tasting, Jo, Cara, Katie and I headed back to 8 Cepas, where Jo and I had had our slightly buzzed dinner this past Saturday night. Wasn't as good last night; twas definitely the Monday night chef. But still fun to have a girls' night and pinpoint what it is about Argentine men we don't like. We're all between the ages of 24 and 27, so it was an interesting discussion. It's not that we haven't had luck with them per se, it's not a thing of luck it seems, we just don't seem to be into them as a whole, or at least the ones we've met for a variety of reasons. They don't have game, they're too machismo, they don't like women who speak their minds, they're not well-groomed/ have bad haircuts... those seemed to be the major complaints. Just in case you were wondering, that is my wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am sample case study.

Today, after much back and forth debate, I caved in and got my highlights done for the first time in 3 months. You can see in the picture what a hot mess my roots were. I resisted because I'm living the free life! Who needs maintentance! Let it grow! Yeah, right. I am still my mother's daughter. Of course the 9am appt meant the salon not opening until 9:15, not getting seated until 9:30 and not getting started until 9:45. The guy shampooed my hair FOUR times (usually a relaxing activity, by the end, my neck was killing me) and the lady kept taking phone calls between foils, but what's getting your hair done in another country if not a unique experience? Then I ran over to a cafe around the corner and met Jo for a quick breakfast as she had a day off from the winery and was spending a day in the city. Finally got to the office around 2pm, just in time for lunch! Worked on the FB page some more, reviewed some previously created brochures, and banged out a very loose short and long term marketing plan. Feel like I've come up with some fun ideas to rebrand Altocedro, if they're serious.

And of course my plans to move to La Consulta tomorrow have been shot down once again, this time due to logistical reasons. The other Guillermo, the consultant winemaker, isn't going back down until Thursday. Karim has already made the move down, so I have to wait. Not so bad, as the other Lindsay (from the wine group) and her boyfriend are having an asado at their hostel tomorrow night. One last social night before the exodus!

Great last weekend in Mendoza (for a while)

Wrapping up the end of a great weekend.

Friday was a quiet day in the office, going through their website, rewriting their broken English and adding comments where I see fit. Not as easy to do as one would think, as I have to make sure the wine terms I'm correcting are actually what they do. I find out they want to completely overhaul and redesign the website, which I fear is beyond my expertise, but I'll do what I can in the meantime and at least advise within my ability!

Friday night I met up with Jo (the spunky Brit soon-to-be-lawyer who is interning at Zuccardi Winery as a tour guide) for my first real cocktail in a long time at the Azafran cocktail bar (too much wine, we decide!). Dirty martini, stat. Same connection with Jo as I felt with Chris, the French roomie, Jo, the other Brit who is out saving the world, and Karen, the American I met in Mendoza my first time down here. So easy to talk to, laugh with and just feel like myself with. After one very strong cocktail each we wisely decided to find something to eat and went to my second great dinner of the week at 8 Cepas, a wine cellar/ steakhouse where we had reasonably priced salads and empanadas, albeit on the fancy side. Split a bottle of Torrontes and talked normal getting to know you girl stuff. Two and a half hours later, we were ready to meet up with Cara, the Seattle-ite who is sommelier'ing down here and runs our weekly wine club. Went back to the cocktail bar for round 2 and met her waiter friends from Azafran: Facu, an Argentine and Travis, an American. Closed down the bar and headed over to the casino at the Park Hyatt to see if there was a bar there. No luck, and it was too depressing watching everyone mindlessly gamble away the night in fluorescent lighting in the middle of beautiful, untainted Mendoza wine country. We quickly left and found the town's one Irish pub which is always open late. Jo headed home as she had to work early in the morning. The rest of us hung out talking about who knows what, me just sipping the gross Andes beer, until somehow the clock rolled to 5:30 am.

Thankfully able to sleep in a bit (10:00) despite the dorm room atmosphere and enjoyed a few hours of quiet Saturday morning Skyping with my mom and Andrew and generally messing around on the internet. Then threw on my running clothes with all good intentions of a long run in the afternoon and headed over to Carolyn's house for lunch with her and her mom who is visiting from Cali. Carolyn had a wedding last night and needed to get her hair and nails did and her mom wanted to go to the big grocery store out in the suburbs, so I happily stayed and babysat Julia, Carolyn's adorable 15 month old soon to be monster. Changed my first diaper in what seems like decades and also helped package little gifts of alfajores for Carolyn's clients. It's the least I can do since she hooked me up with the gig at Altocedro!

By 5:30 I was off for my run which lasted about 40 minutes as I has to head back to shower and scoop up dessert for a dinner with Paul and his wife. (Paul is the Brit ex-pat I met through my BsAs Spanish teacher Marta). They invited me over for authentic Peruvian food as his wife is Peruvian. I brought a bottle of Malbec Rose that Guillermo had given me as a gift on Friday as well as two tarts from the local bakery. The tarts literally took me 15 minutes to select from the shelves of about 100 ridiculously good looking pies, cakes and petit fours. I consulted with the girl behind the counter, ignoring her recommendation of what was basically a work of chocolate abstract art piled on a cake and finally settled on a membrillo (quince) pie and a ricotta/chocolate torta, both of which are very common down here. Not bad for $9USD. I'd get the ricotta again no questions asked. Paul and Loyda also have a 15 month old son, Thomas, who is closer to his terrible twos than Julia. Very interesting tidbit in raising a bilingual child: Paul only speaks English to Thomas and Loyda only Spanish. He seems to understand both but of course only speaks a toddler's gibberish at this point. Dinner was lovely, with a potato/hard boiled egg/green olive salad with an interesting orange colored dressing made out of cheese, crackers (blended to give a thick consistency), aji, onions, olive oil. Main dish was a stir fry of sorts. Apparently there's a huge Asian influence in Peru? Peppers, steak, scrambled egg, sausage, scallions, rice... and they gave me leftovers! Which I'm graciously eating now, at 10:20 pm.

Which brings me to today. On Jo's recommendation, I decided at the last minute last night to jump on a 7am bus this morning for a day trip to the middle of the Andes, on the way to Chile.Puente del Inca is "the most fascinating natural landmark in Argentina," according to my guidebook, a four hour bus ride away, and close to the base camp of Aconcagua, South America's highest summit. The front desk clerk at the hostel thought I was justalittlecrazy for going by myself and not really knowing what to do once I got there, but I know how dead Mendoza is on Sundays and I felt I could use a little trek to get the heart going. After a 20 minute debrief from the hippy hostel clerk, I felt confident I could figure it out. Got home from Paul's house by 11:30, was in bed at midnight, and up before 6 to catch the bus. Packed some snacks, a huge bottle of water, my book, travel pillow and camera, and I was off to the bus station. By the time I found the right bus company's booth and waited in the ticket line, it was 5 minutes to 7. I hurriedly got my RT ticket for about $12 USD and proceeded to pass out in my seat for the next 3 & 1/2 hours. After confirming with the girl next to me which stop to get off at (bus stops here literally dirt lots on the side of the road), I sleepily descend the bus. Looking around, I see two or three ramshackle cafes, a mini straw market with the routine artisanal souvenirs, as well as a rundown hostel and Army barracks. I instantly think, WTF am I supposed to do now? See a few other kids wandering around and I follow one who looks like he may be friendly to one of the two cafes. I make a beeline for the "bano," I'll let your imagination figure that out, and ask the cafe owner in panicked Spanish what the hell I'm supposed to do here for the next 6 hours until my return bus. He gives me a little speech, sans English, and I order a cafe and sit down, eyeing up the other customers. I take pictures of the cafe's gigantic St. Bernard named Syrah, busy myself with my guidebook, say the hell with it, and muster up the courage to introduce myself to the now newly formed little group of backpackers from my bus. I ask if they're all just there for the day as well and if I can tag along. Of course, of course. A Belgian 30 year old who took two months to travel South America and figure out the next stage of his life, a young Italian couple who mostly kept to themselves, and 23 year old French Arthur, who took a year off from med school to travel the world after a painful breakup. (Dad- of course I had to tell him about you and how Kriss used to pronounce your name... as he said his name changes depending what country he's in. He may be the one other Arthur I've ever met!). The European Union and myself headed down to the ancient crazy colored bridge, all natural rock formations, and the old crumbling hot springs spa that is now out of service. Lots of professional-looking cameras whipped out and pictures taken. Then we walked the 3k up to the base camp of Aconcagua, alongside a highway with massive 18 wheelers and tour buses loudly rolling by. Walking uphill with the famous Argentine wind roaring in our ears, under a technicolor, cloudless blue sky and surrounded by the multi-colored Andes (the various minerals in the rocks turn bits of the mountains green, pink, brown, white, orange... really amazing), I immediately feel happy. We pay 10 pesos to enter the base camp park and do the mini trek to a lookout point to gaze atthe highest mountain in the continent. Leisurely hang around, listen to an argument between Arthur and one of the Italians on why capitalism is good/bad, as well as various other political/philosophic subjects educated 20somethings feel entitled to discuss with strangers. I stayed out of it all. Eventually head back to the bus area, hung at the cafe and caught the 5pm bus back. Mostly talk to the Belgian about all things life, take a bit of a nap, and here I am at my spot on the crackly couch in the hostel, next to the window, listening to the other hostelers talk the backpacking life. Exhausted, looking forward to moving to La Consulta this week (now not sure when now- either Tuesday or Wednesday).