By the pool
Trip Start
Jan 20, 2004
1
78
88
Trip End
Feb 01, 2005
Mendoza,
Argentina
Monday, December 6, 2004
The Pool
Whilst the word for pool in Spanish is piscina (although I think the Argies want to be different again and call it pileta) you should in no way take that in an English kind of way and piss in a pool. Iīm not so sure that one of the Scottish or Irish lads didnīt do a whizz in there when completely hammered at 1pm after a big night and no sleep and many many morning wines.
The pool at Damajuana was great. The green grass beside it was even better. I had no reason to leave the hostel. My tan came along very nicely, very nicely indeed, and walking down the street in my new white thongs (Iīm speaking Australian so I donīt mean g-strings) showed exactly how nice and brown I am now. When it would get hot, you would just jump in the pool. I had some fun with Sophie doing those flips and stuff where she would stand on my shoulders and weīd flip. I was much better at flinging her from the shoulder flips than her boyfriend Tis.
By the pool was were I discovered that my fear of Argentinian hairdressers is well founded. Deirdre, an Irish lass, had her hair cut. She explained that she wanted a bit of a trim and for it just to be left long. Well, the hairdresser ignored this request and proceeded to fashion a mullet. The poor thing was quite distraught and the next day she went somewhere else and had to have it all chopped off. I really felt for her and my advice remains the same, do not trust Argentinian hairdressers.
So I virtually spent all my time by the pool, hanging out with everyone on the lawn. I also met up with Travis who I met in Iguazų and we hung out with Reg, a well travelled Aussie from the Gold Coast. It was great fun with them and Emily, you are so right. I was slipping straight back into all my Australianisms with them, rather than trying to keep my speech free of the slang and ambiguities I usually use back home. My travel English is very different to my home English - which I suppose can only be called Australian. Anyways, now Iīm just dribbling.
Wine Tour
Mendoza is the wine capital of Argentina, so I had to go on a wine tour. As I don`t drink, I wasnīt interested in sucking down as many free taster wines as possible and coming up with novel ways to get a glass, so I made clear that I would get to see other stuff and actually learn.
It was a 5 hour tour visiting 2 wineries and an olive oil factory. Donīt let them upsell you to the 75peso tour as the 25peso is fantastic. On the bus the guide was telling us that we were going to "The wineries which are in Maipú" In English, this sounds exactly like "my poo" so a twitter from some Irish guys behind us led to a group twitter. The second time she said "in Maipú" there was an all out roar of laughter and the poor thing was a bit taken aback until Travis explained to her that in English it meant "en mi kaka".
At the first winery there was a museum and they had lots of old carriages and tools. Mum and Dad would have gone nuts over the collection and would have had some interesting questions like "Can we buy this off you?" We wandered around past the vineyard and I discovered that they use very different trellises for their vines. There are two methods, really high so the grapes hang low, and then really low and the grapes hang to the side. At this particular vineyard the handpick everything and I misunderstood the guide and thought that 25 pickers picked 242 hectares in 2 days. This is impossible and so I was whinging on about how that couldnīt happen and ra ra ra, but then I was told it was 8 hectares every 2 days which is much more realistic.
We saw the winery and learned a bit about the process and saw some in storage. Then we tasted some wines. I got a glass of white and a glass of red and had a sip of each, which reinforced that I just really donīt like the taste of the alcohol. So the others were happy to polish off the rest of my glasses.
At the second winery we saw the bottling process which is very interesting. I could have watched the bottles on conveyor belts for ages. I didn`t bother hanging around in the cellar while everyone tasted, so I went and sat outside in the sun - always trying to improve the tan!
The olive oil factory was great. We saw an olive tree, which I suppose is interesting for some people but Iīve seen them before. I did learn that they hand pick them into picking bags which would we way worse than picking oranges. The olive tree we visited had a convenient little patch of green grass in front of it for the tourists to stand on, while the rest was a paddock. V funny. Saw the olive oil presses which were interesting and then it was tasting time. This is the kind of tasting I like! Bits of bread with olive oil and some with sundried tomatoes were laid out. Yummo! We were all so hungry that we pounced on them and were trying to get more bread and oil. Ended up buying a jar of sundried tomatoes in oil but havenīt yet had the chance to taste them.
Nightlife
Mendoza is supposed to be great for nightlife, but I was in Old Granny mode again and didnīt go out once in the five nights that I was there. It is founded Old Granny mode though. I go out to dance and pick up - they are my two main motivations to go out. As for dancing, I think Argentinian music is crappy and it is this electronic music which doesnīt change beat or rythm and is impossible to carve up the dancefloor to this. As for picking up, well I have documented quite thoroughly what I think about the kissing style of Argentinians, and I didnīt fancy more bad pashes. I mean, if I was really in the mood, I just would have tried it on one of the Irish or Scottish boys at the hostel and again had the convenience of not having to leave the hostel.
Things I Learned
* Black and green olives come from the same tree, it just depends on when they pick them.
* Mendoza produces 70% of Argentina`s wine.
* Donīt trust any Argentinian with hair. Argentinian waxers are also mullet loving butchers.
