All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home
Trip Start Aug 09, 2007
45Trip End Jan 20, 2008
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Mendoza has heat to spare. More than you can possibly use.
It also has a splendid restaurant that sells 600gram steaks. That was big. Some people may claim you don't need 600grams of steak, that it's too big. Well, they'd be wrong. It's just the right size. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
And then there are the bodegas. Oh yes. Bodegas. Wineries. Muchos vino. So I pottered along to Escorihuela
And then to El Rural, the following day. Or I would have done if I'd have caught the correct bus. But no. The 173 the woman in tourist information said. The 174 goes somewhere else. Fortunately, at the end of its trip, just as the bus driver is saying to me something that translates roughly as "Get off my bus, you daft Gringo bastard", there came along an Australian on a bike. Who very kindly pointed out to me that there were another couple of bodegas about five minutes walk away. Woo-hoo! Splendid. So off I trotted. Hmmm. More tours, explaining wine making. More tasting. Oh, really? Must I? Well, if you insist. Thank you kindly...
And then, at the hostel, in the evening, a Czech chap said that Mendoza was near to the highest mountain in South America. Cerro Aconcagua. "You haven't been there? Really?" In astonished tones. No, I haven't. Maybe I'd go the next day. But then again, there was the bodega I had wanted to visit. And hadn't. Hmmm. Bodega. Mountain climbing. Which one wins? Which one? Quien sabe...?
And thus, it finishes. Night bus to Santiago, este noche. Flight home on Friday evening. Already, the cold english January weather is biting. Hard. Or it would be, if I hadn't just been drinking wine, and sitting in the sun. Which can take the edge off most things.