Valle de Uco

This picture doesn't begin to do the scenery justice.  Yes, those are indeed the Andes rising up directly behind the vineyards.  The closer you get to the mountains the better the quality of grapes, according to Tomas Achaval and he's found himself some great land to grow incredible grapes. 

Tomas

Tomas invited us down to the Uco Valley, an hour south of Mendoza, to see the vineyards where all the magic happens for his Nomade wines.  This valley is compared by some to the Napa Valley of 30 years ago for the quality grapes and the quiet roads.  The added incentive (as if we needed one) was the crew was grilling asado in the vineyard that day.  

Salud and 

Buen Provencho!

Gustavo, the jefe or vineyard foreman, cooked a massive amount of steak, ribs and chorizo over the bonfire.  We all stood around the table and I learned how to cut the steak, ribs and chorizo with a big gaucho knife, using a piece of bread in my left hand as a plate.  Eating with our hands, chatting and drinking malbec grown from this very vineyard made for a great picnic.

Here's me with the jefe (far left) and crew.

Tomas y yo

After lunch, we walked the new Las Mulas vineyard (named for the historic place close by where the army used to raise the mules so important for crossing the mountains) where Tomas grows merlot.  To get there, we drove up dirt roads, walked across a meadow past a white horse grazing, picked wild yellow plums and drank water from the cold, cold streams. Absolutely heaven.

We then headed into the lab to taste wines from the barrel and do some blending with Tomas's enologist.  After our siesta.

Los Andes

After the fast life in Buenos Aires, we've enjoyed a quiet week in Mendoza. Located at the base of the Andes, this pretty green town is an oasis in the middle of the semi-desert. Irrigation in the form of snowmelt from the mountains ensures leafy trees and showy fountains in the main plazas which are arranged like a five die. And of course, the snowmelt waters the grapevines as well. The relaxed pace in town goes like this: businesses open from 9 a.m. - 1 p.m. then close for a three hour lunch/siesta break, then open back up from 4 p.m. - 10 p.m. People start strolling to the sidewalk cafes for dinner around 11 p.m. The response to telling someone I had to be at an appointment: "Ah, they can wait."

Sunday we drove within 15 km of the Chilean border to visit Aconcagua, which at 23,000 feet is the highest peak outside of the Himalayas and twice as tall as Washington State's Mt. Rainier. We congratulated an expedition coming down on their mules from the summit after the two-week trek. We also stopped to pay our respects at the Cemeterio Andinistas, where climbers who fell on the mountain are buried. One gravestone reads "Here rests our eternal friend, who loved the mountain more than the world."

Weekend Argentine-Style

Argentines keep a frenzied social calendar and survive on an unnatural lack of sleep.  This weekend I tried my best to keep up. It all began in the VIP section of Madonna's Sticky and Sweet tour with our new friend Coli. My big brother Patrick met him on the Greek island of Ios 15 years ago and we immediately became great friends. Coli is the saxophonist in the popular Uruguayan band La Vela Puerca (www.velapuerca.com.uy) and is working as a translator for the Material Girl's tech team.  She put on a serious show and I got goosebumps when she sang "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" with a massive blue-and-white-striped flag hanging behind her. The entertaining night turned into morning as we talked philosophy over beers in an outdoor plaza with Coli until 5:00 a.m. I didn't realize it was so late (er, early) as the square was packed with customers as the bars continued to serve 'til the sun came up.

After a quick nap, we dragged ourselves out of bed to hit the contemporary art museum MALBA, showcasing Latin American artists.  My new favorite painter is the Mexican, Covarrubias.  We ate a leisurely lunch in the garden and spent a few hours in front of the canvases. www.malba.org.ar

Late afternoon found us in the cheap seats at Campo de Palermo for the semi-final polo match of the Argentine Open, or "El Albierto." This is the final and most important tournament in the international polo circuit, as Argentines are the undisputed masters of the sport. La Dolfina beat Pilara (both Argentine teams made up of four players) 18-13 in eight 7-minute chukkers. Argentines do not stomp divots at halftime (there didn't seem to be a halftime) which was why I had really wanted to go in the first place. The crowd was strangely quiet during most of the game, giving only polite golf claps when either of the teams scored. I've fallen madly in love with Adolfo Cambioso, the captain of La Dolfina and you can see why here: www.ladolfina.com. After the event, we drank free champagne with the fancy crowd on exclusive side of the stadium and I waited in vain to congratulate Adolfo.

A progressive dinner followed in the upscale Palermo neighborhood with a new friend Peter:  tennis star, ladies man and international man of mystery. We met him at the polo match and learned he mainly jets around the world practicing his eight languages. He left us to go to a private party at MALBA because I couldn't overcome yet another fat steak.  How do these girls do it?  Food coma and lack of sleep prevailed.

Sunday morning we strolled in La Boca, one of the oldest barrios of Buenos Aires, where the tango was born in brightly-painted brothels and taverns. This impoverished neighborhood is now a tourist trap, but we slipped into the elegant Fundacion PROA musuem to see an incredible Marcel Duchamp exhibit.  www.proa.org  

With only a few hours left in Buenos Aires, we finished our afternoon in San Telmo's famous and extensive outdoor Sunday Antique Market. The neighborhood becomes a pedestrian zone one day a week and street performers tango and vendors sell all sorts of fascinating things like tiny toy soldiers, copper watering cans, old photographs and these beautiful 100-year-old glass bottles that were used to dispense carbonation. I thought I really needed a few until I learned they each cost $100 and up.

Standing at the counter of a local asado joint, we dined on cheap and delicious chorizo and steak sandwiches.  Afterwards I sank thankfully into my fully-reclining seat for the 13-hour overnight bus ride to Mendoza.

With a touch of pride, the portenos say "Buenos Aires, te mata" (Buenos Aires kills you).  I am ready to be a country girl.

Eight Angels, a Lion and Carlos

Taking advantage of a dark and stormy afternoon, Christian and I visited the Recoleta Cemetery.  World-renowned for funerary sculpture and being the most expensive real estate in Buenos Aires, this is the final resting place for presidents, poets, generals and Eva Peron.  Feral cats roam the walkways and bougainvilleas climb over immaculate and decrepit mausoleums.  I loved all the many wing styles of the angels and hope to someday have a lion like this guarding me.

The following day, the weather lightened up and we headed out of town for Sunday BBQ.  Tomas Archeval, of Nomade Winery and former CEO of Chandon South America, invited us to an asada with his family.  We ate sirloin, tenderloin, chorizo, blood sausage, pork, and more tenderloin.  All washed down with his full-bodied Malbecs and Syrahs.  All in the name of research, you understand.  Check out his wines at www.nomadewines.com. 

Monday we wandered the streets and ended up at Clasica y Moderna, a cafe/bookstore with live music - tango guitar from the 1930's on this occasion - and spent a mellow Monday night in Bs.As. with the locals.  To give you a taste of the melancholic and soulful sound, here is a snippet of Carlos Gardel singing about the city he loved.  When he tragically died in an airplane crash in 1935, millions went into mourning and several female fans on different continents attempted suicide.  He remains popular today and portenos (people "from the port" of Buenos Aires) often say "Gardel sings better every day."