Vino Baby!

It was a brisk early morning as I leapt onto the slowly moving bus. I had enjoyed a nice media luna and orange juice for breakfast and I was prepared to embark on yet another exciting journey. This new voyage would take me to some far away cultures, beautiful scenery, and the feeling that I had really taking myself out of my own environment. I was going to WINE COUNTRY!!!

The bus arrived promptly at 9am. It arrived, that is, to a small bench on the side of a dirt road. The bus driver indicated that this was indeed our stop and that it was time for us to get off and stop coming up to him every five minutes to ask if we had already pass our stop.

I leapt off the last step of the bus with an energetic zeal. However, I was quickly brought back to reality when a bustling town driven by the vino tinto and blanco commerce appeared to be just a small farming community where nothing was open. Oops.

We new that this was to be expected as the vineyards were all a bit spread out through the small town. For that we were going to need to rent bikes. Luckily, using my spanish wit and charm, HA!, I spoke to the local butcher to discover that we were in no way near a bike rental place.

As usual we decided to simply move our legs in search of someone who might know a bit more information that the blood soaked meat barren we had just met.

SIDE NOTE: While the people here are very friendly and always eager to help out a fellow traveler, I´ve noticed that most the people have no real idea what is going on or where they are or what things actually exist in their country. For that reason you just have to ask an average of 5 people to figure out something that could most often be delivered by one. I guess it´s a culture thing.

We walked and we walked and would you believe it? we walked bit more. We soaked up all the wonders of the charming town and spoak to the locals about our enthusiasm for their wine and their lack of enthusiam for the obvious cold that was seeping into every crack and weakness in our insufficient clothing.

After an hour of walking we did finally find a bike shop. It only took about 20 minutes to then stir the incompetent (we would later find out) employee of this fine rental shack. He gave us some some bikes and our free ¨drinks¨ which appeared to be gatorade bottles that way way have been from the 70s when the company first began. I don´t know if they think like wine all drinks are better with age, but I wasn´t about to test that.

Well, what would you know, I had a bike and some old gaterade and things were looking up. We picked a spot to make our first bodega visit and we were off.

We took a nice ride about 10 km down the nice tree shaded roads and I was excited for a day that would surely end in me being too buzzed in a place where I should have ¨respected my alcohol.¨ I could see great things on the horizon.

That was, until, BOOM! The pedal of my bike after a slowly withering struggle to stay on finally popped right off in the middle of the road. Luckily the bike was already crappy enough that I was riding rather slowly, so I didn´t fall too hard. I tried to fix it some how, but the bike had decided that it was broken and that there was no going back.

Of course the rest of the group slyly hid the irritating fact that their bikes were still shittily functioning just fine and now they would have to walk with me. I thought the solution would be simple as all we would have to do would be to arrive to the fist bodega, call the bike guy for a new bike, have some wine, and await his glorious arrival.

After that decision was made one hopeful thing happened and a mess of hopeless things occured. While taking my bike on a walk along the road I noticed some gentlemen working on a gate at the front of a resident´s house. I asked if they could help and what do you know, they had a full tool box and all the enthusiam needed to aid the idiot tourist who was obviously just beginning his day as the annoying drunk biker who had nothing to add to his town other than noise and car accidents.

He did what he could to fix the pedal and I thought all was saved. I was quickly brought back to a rather glib reality when the new problem arrived...the bike fell apart. The chain broke, the gears actually snapped off and the pedal fell off again. My bike basically said ¨Fuck you! I quit!¨ Oh did it quit. I knew right then that somehow this day was not going to be as easy as I thought it would be. But then, when is it ever easy. I wouldn´t be able to write these stories if life was always peachy, right?

We continued on the hopes that some bodega would be open for us to call the bike man while enjoying some vino, but vineyard after vineyard was closed Closed CLOSED! Crap.

What could we do but walk the 10 km back into town for the next 2 hours. I really thought that the day might be ruined and I irritatingly apologized over and over for something that was clearly not my fault.

Our first stroke of real luck hit when we arrived to the Cabrini Bodega. They were also closed, however the woman there not only called the bike guy finally, but they offered our first taste of some delicious Mendozan Malbec. It was great!

After the man arrived the day passed with the ease and delight I had hoped for that whole day. It was truly one of the best days I´ve had here in Argentina. We visited several vineyards, all very small, and we learned a lot about the cultivation of Argentine wines and how the process and culture behind it differs from wines in other countries. Ask me some time and I´ll tell you all about it. Not here though, because you´ve read enough and I want you, oh faithful reader, to take a break. Enjoy yourself, take a bike ride, have a glass of wine. Do anything you want to remind you of how great things are if you just maintain a healthy and happy attitude. Remember, there is no spoon!