Red Red Wine

 I was sad to leave the estancia, but excited to visit Mendoza, the home of Argentinian Malbec and many other delectable wine varieties.  The flight was a smooth up and down hour, in stark contrast to my previous flight in hurricane force winds. Yet again, my luggage travelled with me, a fact that continues to delight me.

I was greeted at the airport arrivals lounge by my guide, the handsome Juan who speaks such perfect English that I question whether he is actually Argentinian.  He insists he is 100% Mendozan born and bred. He drove me to my hotel, giving me a full overview of the region on the way, and said he would pick me up in the morning for our wineries tour. 

The Club Hotel Tapiz is a former winery turned boutique hotel still surrounded by vineyards.  The buildings are lovely with the wooden floors and panelling that seem to be a staple for the old wineries. There is a small swimming pool and what is deemed a spa but really is just a lone exercise bike and a sauna which, given the 30 degree temperatures, I can’t see making use of. The rooms are just a teeny bit dated and worn, but this seems to be a theme and I don’t mind as it is comfortable and mostly clean. 

The Tapiz hosts a mini wine tasting every evening at eight, and I dutifully wandered along on my first night. Another Juan, who moonlights as a budding film maker, introduced us to a Malbec and a Cabernet Sauvinion from the Zolo vineyards. The Cab Sav was particularly tasty. He also provided a tasting of the locally produced olive oil which was very grassy and flavoursome. I got to chatting with an American couple (Carol and Ted) from New York who now live in Florida, but they were careful to quickly explain that they are from a “blue bubble”.  One has to be so careful these days when talking to Americans. They asked where I was from, and I had to explain my complicated origin story.  Carol said “oh, that’s interesting, in Calafate I met another woman who was born in Texas but lives in London”. “That was me”, I said. She looked puzzled but I reminded her that we had briefly met on the hideous tour boat that took us for an up close view of the glacier.  I had offered to take her photo which she politely declined. I later had ruminated that I had been so desperate for company that my attempt to befriend a total stranger was probably super creepy and I then expressed that concern to Carol who reassured me it wasn’t, but I’m pretty sure she was just being polite. Anyway, Carol and Ted (but no Bob or Alice - google it) kindly invited me to join them for dinner, an invitation I happily accepted.  Both the food and the company were delicious. 

Juan number one met me promptly at 9:15 the next morning and we began our day of winery tours. At each of the wineries, I was the only visitor. Although gratefully the new Argentinian President has gotten the ridiculous inflation under control, Argentina is no longer an inexpensive destination, and tourist numbers are sadly way down. First stop was Alta Vista winery where we had an interesting tour followed by tasting of 5 different wines. At 10:30 AM.  Despite having always found the practice a little revolting, after a few samples, I became a “spit, not swallow” kind of girl. (Get your mind out of the gutter those of you who I know went there immediately). We then moved on to Casarena for another tour and another tasting. This is definitely an activity which would have been SO much more fun with Jane. Although I enjoyed it, I have never really understood the whole cult of wine thing. I like to drink it, and sure, there are some I like to drink more than others, but I really struggle to discern much of a difference between the $10 bottle and the $100 bottle.  It’s fun to try to guess the bouquets, but I have to be honest and say that half the time, I’m just making it up. Maybe it’s the world’s biggest scam and everyone is making it up.

At 1:30 we arrived at our final vineyard whose name I can’t even remember. It was lovely, but I declined the offer of yet another tour. I then discovered that my visit included a six course tasting menu lunch with wine pairing. I was the only person other than staff in the entire enormous restaurant. I begged Juan to join me, saying I would happily pay for his lunch, but he declined and said he would grab something with the driver. I would have also happily have paid to forego the 6 courses to grab something with Juan and the driver but they wouldn’t hear of it. Who could blame them for wanting a break from the annoying solo tourist? So, there I sat, completely alone,  for several hours, being served glorious course after glorious course, each accompanied by a full glass of wine. I pretended that I was a queen and that this was my palace. That helped.  The food really was extraordinary, but by the second glass all the wine tasted the same.  By the time that Juan came to rescue me, I was both ridiculously full and undeniably pissed (in the British sense). Clearly my personal rule about not drinking alone has been totally shattered. 

I returned to the hotel by 5, crashed and vowed never to eat or drink again.  Friday, I’m white water rafting in the morning. Because I don’t think that is quite scary enough, in the afternoon I’m doing a zip line adventure experience.  As previously mentioned, Richard has my will