Don't Cry for me Argentina... I'll see you somewhere soon

I've left Argentina, so I'd better tell you what I thought, as being in a new place takes you by the feet and shakes you upside down trying to get the old place out. At least that's how it seems sometimes. Someplaces are harder to shake out than others: Like that place you call 'home', or the places of 'firsts', or where you were when your brother threw a lit sparkler in your hair... but I digress.

I was only in Argentina for 3 weeks, so really I only know that it is HUGE and 3 weeks is not enough. My poor American geography is showing, but I just had no idea how big Argentina was. I went on multiple 20 hour bus rides and didn't cover a third of the country. Granted, I am counting some breakdown time in one of those buses just to give myself extra credit hours.

I'm impressed that a country in our continually globalized world can hold the hours that Argentina does. These people do not negotiate on their siestas. And, they eat dinner at 11 at night-- as a family-- kids and all. And, it seems to work. As long as you get used to the idea that everything will be closed between 1 and 5pm. It makes the days seem long, but also nice and slow.

Speaking of 'closed' that is the word I use to describe Mendoza. I spent two long weekends there, and many things also remain closed on the weekends. What would Americans do if they couldn't work or shop on the weekends? Argentinians go to the park and have picnics. Or play in the local creek or aqueduct ditch. We went horseback riding.

The closed-ness of Mendoza was probably accentuated for me, as I went there expecting a Napa Valley experience in the Malbec mecca.  Argentinian wineries just don't work that way. You call and make a reservation. Then you show up and go on an hour long tour. Then they give you a taste (maybe two) of their most basic wines. Then you spend an hour driving around looking for the next winery. Walking or biking from tasting table to tasting table being assaulted by a waterfall of wonderful vintages is logistically not an option. And, after you have had one hour-long winery tour conducted in your third language, you've had enough. The Malbecs and the Torrentes here are great, but wine bars or restaurants are the place to have them.

Roadtripping through the Central Andes and the desert was spectacular, as I've mentioned. Then I spent my last week in the country in Salta, far in the Northwest. Salta is a beautiful, european-esque city and home to a active and fun couchsurfing population. Couchsurfing has pretty much replaced hostelling for me: not only do you get to meet other travelers, but you get to meet locals as well, and you don't have to get bedbugs in the process.


 I wanted to see Patagonia, but haven't yet. From Mendoza, which is kind of in the middle, I had to choose: go North or South? I chose the North road. Another traveler I met asked, "well can't you go back and go 'South' after seeing Salta, and places 'North'? Technically, the answer is 'yes', but I have learned that "way leads on to way" and once we choose a direction, we may never find that particular fork in the road again.

Through the couchsurfers in Salta and the vineyards in Mendoza, I was taken on a triumphant parade of what this late-night meat-eating, early-morning drinking country has to offer. These people eat a lot of meat. Delicious Asados (BBQs). It is not uncommon for a dinner plate to just have a large slab of meat on it, and nothing else. Nothing else until you eat that slab of meat and they put another one down to replace it. And with that meat comes a fast running salt shaker. This is a salty place. Or sweet. Dulche de Leche (a caramel-like spread) steps into any meal where salt might not apply. I didn't ever have meat and dulche de leche together, but, like I said, I was only there 3 weeks.


P.S. I got that yellow fever shot. Out of a 85 degree box, in a run-down government building in Salta. The Bolivian immigration officials didn't even ask to see the stamp. I haven't died yet though.