Cavas de Zonda

The other day trip that we'd planned from San Juan was to the Cavas de Zonda, a champagne winery just outside of town. We asked around how to get there and then waited for bus 23 for over an hour. No bus 23 turned up.

Once we'd given up, we accidentally found the other information centre inside the bus terminal that not only had a timetable, but also correctly informed us that the stop was in front of the station but not marked on the sign. Just as we were getting lunch at a nearby street stall, the bus pulled up around 10 minutes early but luckily still let us on with food.

Leaving town we stopped about 50 or so times, wherever someone hailed the bus and as they paid the driver, he would already be back on the road, juggling both tickets and steering wheel while counting change. At least it became clear that we could also be dropped off anywhere we wanted, so as we passed the cliff side entrance to the caves and went and jumped up and down next to him. It hadn't occurred to me to work out how to ask 'can you please let us off here.'

Cavas de Zonda boasts that it has a mountain for a roof and that's a pretty accurate description. The entrance to the winery is through a massive gate set into the side of a very steep, dry hill that Jeff had the urge to go walking on despite the hot sun. Outside a group of people waited to be let in.

The tour last approximately 10 minutes with a quick walk along the full length of the caves stone arch, up lit to create a warm glow. It included a detailed explanation of the champagne making process which sounded a lot like making home brew. It appeared to be similarly technologically advanced with old machines from the 50's.

In dozens of large plastic crates along the wall of the cave were Champagne bottles. Two men sat at a long table with a bottle stand in front of them, delicately applying each label by hand.

The tasting involved buying a bottle of champagne and taking it home to taste, but I suggested drinking the nice cool bottle in the park across the road, where the grass was green and the shade pleasant. My suggestion was turned down, despite the fact that we had hours to kill before our overnight bus. We had a nap under the trees instead, before waiting on the side of the road to hail our bus.

With another few spare hours before our bus to Salta, we sat in the main square and watched the locals enjoying their weekend afternoon as the sun went down. And much like our first impression of local fashion, we now pronounce San Juan the muffin top capital of Argentina.

No stray dogs were harmed during the production of this blog post.

Next Stop: Salta!

Parque Provincial Ischigualasto

It was still dark outside when the car pulled out the front of our hotel to pick us up to take us to the moon. At over 300km away we had to start early on the day trip. Bet you didn't think you could get to the moon and back in a day did you?

Parque Provincial Ischigualasto is one of the many landscapes across Latin America as being 'Valle de la Luna' or valley of the moon. This one which is apparently comparable to Bryce Canyon or Zion and is UNESCO listed. It's located in a desert valley surrounded by two mountain ranges and from the moment we left San Juan we entered that desert.

On the outskirts of town, mist lay amongst the vines of the bodegas and the sun glowed on the surrounding mountains. The 3.5 hour drive might have been boring if not for staring at those constantly changing mountains, in between observing the mate ritual happening in the car.

Our guide had brought his gourd, mate and sugar, while the other two Argentinian girls on the tour bought a Thermos of hot water. They filled up the gourd with mate, put about a teaspoon of sugar on top and then poured the hot water through it. Each of them took turns drinking the gourd dry before it was refilled and passed onto the next person.

We were invited in on the ritual, but decided to pass. While mate isn't my favourite drink, clearly the travel doctor had made me sufficiently paranoid to not want to drink out of the same straw thing as three strangers.

Along the way, semi wild animals roamed along the side of the highway and across it, including horses, goats, rabbits and turkeys. Every now and then we spotted vultures flying high overhead. But the most exciting animal were the Guanacos hanging out just outside of the park gate. One group stood munching on the dry vegetation while further down the road, another pack trotted across the road when they heard the car approaching.

Inside the park, we were surprised to discover that the visit would be in convoy with a group of other vehicles and a park ranger. We had to stick strictly to the road and only stop at the 5 highlights. I hadn't expected such a regimented visit in South America.

As we rounded the corner we had our first view of the whole terrain – red cliffs in the distance ringing a barren, white valley. You could imagine how this looked otherworldly.

Not far down the road was the first stop, where the ranger went into a very long explanation of the region. We understood some of it, but the view towards the cliffs was irresistible so we wandered around the carefully defined area taking photos.

At the first stop, it was the distant view which was remarkable, so we were surprised just how amazing the next stop's foreground was. Apart from the odd dry bush, the rutted ground really did look like the moon, except in various shades of pinks. From the lookout you could see the river that wound it's way through the worn mounds. Seeing that we'd wandered away from the group, our guide came over and explained that the national park is named after this particular formation.

We then drove down into the moonscape to a flat area where we could walk amongst the bare mounds. One of them looked like a sphinx, although I'm positive we weren't the first to recognise it's likeness.

But the main attraction of stop number three was the Cancha de Bochas, the ball table. On the flat plain lay perfectly spherical rocks, arranged as though someone was in the middle of a ball game.

Leaving the lunar landscape we drove up to another formation that were like windows facing the red cliffs.

We then approached the cliffs that had so far been in the distance. Near the base of them, stands the signature formation of the park, El Hongo or mushroom. Against the bright blue sky, the white stone with the red cliffs behind is very striking.

Finally we drove the full length of the cliffs back to the entrance, the red dust of the road filtering through the seals of the car and entering our nostrils. On one side where the red cliffs that looked like they where part of the ancient temple with intricately carved pillars. On the other was the white lunar landscape.

On the way out of the park, our guide spotted a condor eating a dead cow on the side of the road. He stopped and grabbed his camera, but unfortunately it spread it's massive wings and took to the sky.

To break up the 3 hour drive home, we stopped at the shrine of the Difunta Correa, near San Jose. I had only a very vague notion of what exactly the place was all about, as I'd filled it under the 'odd Latin American things' category. And believe me it looked odd.

On the ground next to the car where we pulled up in the messy little town lay a plastic figure of a woman lying with a bare breast where a baby was feeding. Following our guide up the staircase, the posts and beams of the low roof where covered in old licence plates that tinkled in the warm desert wind. On the ground on either side lay little home made houses that reminded me of architectural models.

At the top in the shrine proper the same breastfeeding woman that had lain next to the wheel of our car, was surrounded by candles and images of babies and other breastfeeding women. Our guide explained that she was a woman who together with her baby followed her husband and his regiment during the civil war of the 1800's. But in the desert she ran out of food and water and died. But when she was found, the baby was still nursing at the dead woman's breast. Our guides voice dropped to almost a whisper as he explained that it's believed that is the very spot where she was found.

At the shrine people from all around Argentina come to ask for protection of their houses, cars, assistance during difficult childbirth and miracle cures. On the rest of the drive we spotted shrines all every few kilometres along the road, where bottles of water where left for travellers in need.

Next Stop: Champagne Cave 

Mr Hugo

That's all I would need to say if you were in the know. But unless you've been to Mendoza in the last five years you're probably not. Even our Lonely Planet copy of 'Argentina' isn't. So let me explain.

Mr Hugo rents bicycles to anyone wishing to go head to head with Argentinian drivers and cycle between the wineries around Mendoza. His business has grown through word of mouth and is hugely popular with the backpacker crowd. And the other bicycle hire places are at a loss about what to do. Or so I'm told.

We'd never heard of 'Mr Hugo', before we were approached while on the bus to Maipu. We'd already walked from town to the 'not to be missed' Escorihuela Bodega, which the tourist information centre had failed to mention was closed due to renovations.

On the bus, we discovered the machine only took coins, which are rare as hens teeth, and we thought he would kick us off. Instead a fellow passenger got up, swiped his card twice and gave us the tickets. We were really touched by his kindness.

So when we were handed a 'Mr Hugo' brochure and offered to be walked to the hire shop we welcomed the suggestion. Just down the road a slightly battered gate led into a shady courtyard where lots of shiny bikes awaited. Within moments, Mr Hugo greeted us warmly, offered us a seat and with a big smile produced a jug of wine.

Soon after, we were happily wobbling our way down a tree lined country road to the first of the stops in the area.

 Inside a pretty little gate, 20 or so bikes stood lined up under a lean-to roof, many bearing the 'Mr Hugo' decal. In the little building, a group was already tasting the home made vinegars, olive oil, salsas, chocolate and liqueurs. Each sample produced satisfied nods and happy yums.

But the most exciting thing to taste was the absinthe. The pale green liquid was poured into shot glasses and a teaspoon of sugar dipped in. This was then lit until the flame caramelised the sugar which was then stirred back through. At 75% alcohol it was pretty strong, but I loved the taste.

The next winery included a museum where there was supposed to be a tour. Unfortunately none of the staff seemed interested, so we wandered around the displays which included wine making apparatus from pre-colonial times. After a quick sip of very young and rather unimpressive Malbec we retreated between the giant oak barrels that lined to entrance.

A little further down the road was a artisan beer garden. After turning and winding our way down the road following the signs we found a shack at the end of a gravel road. Around it were old couches decked out in colourful woven fabrics and cable drums as tables. The staff seemed to be having such a good time hanging out together, no one gave us more than a glance when we turned up.

Perhaps they were supposed to offer tastings, but in our case we were simply handed a menu where we could buy three different types of local made beer by the half litre. Jeff had a Melena de Leon, while we cracked roasted peanuts and chilled out in the shade.

The final winery that we had any hope of making it to, turned out the be a gem. Vina el Cerno, a family owned and run place, our host was brimming with enthusiasm which he happily shared with us. We tasted an old tempranillo and the local special, a delicious Malbec.

We had spent the afternoon cycling alone, but as we were leaving we found the rest of the group also heading back to Mr Hugo. In total about 15 foreigners on bicycles rode onto the main road headed for Maipu as the sun started to dip below the mountains on the horizon.

Apparently the local police were well prepared for the situation, with two motorbikes waiting to escort us all the way home. Stopping most vehicles from passing us on the busy road, they waited to make sure each cyclist turned safely into Mr Hugo's gate. With bikes parked for the evening, a cheerful Mr Hugo greeted us with jugs of wine which flowed freely until the last bus headed for Mendoza was about to leave.

Waiting at the bus stop, we watched as Mr Hugo came riding down the road. He stopped to check that we all had change and with another round of hearty hugs and kisses wished us all the best. I guess that's why he's so popular.

Next Stop: The Moon

Crossing the Andes

“I've got a headache,” Jeff declared.

We were at the border between Argentina and Chile in a pass at over two thousand meters, the height at which altitude sickness symptoms can appear. The blustery wind blowing straight off the Andes, was a shock after the warm coast. Five minutes outside was all we'd been given and in the cold it had been enough. But the immigration process took another 2 hours and the headache didn't go away.

After filing singly through passport control, our luggage was scanned, before our hand luggage searched. The woman next to us pulled out a laptop and immediately produced the receipts. Five minutes earlier, I'd read in the guidebook that it's a good idea to carry purchase receipts for all electronics.

I looked at Jeff concerned. Our turn was next and we opened our camera bag brimming with gadgets, the laptop proudly sitting on top. The customs official picked it right up and started inspecting the stickers on the bottom. I wondered how we were going to explain that the computer was bought in the US, but not by us and that we'd taken it out of Australia.

He asked to see our passports, which he flicked through slowly studying the stamps on every page. My head was pounding. Reaching the end, he took another look at the stickers and handed both back to us, nodded and moved to the next person.

Ten minutes later after we'd boarded the bus, the woman with the laptop climbed on board relieved.

On the Chilean side of the Andes the barren earth was grey with occasional patches of snow that had grown more frequent the higher we'd climbed. It was a harsh place with jagged peaks all around their outlines contrasting sharply with the dull sky.

The Argentinian side was completely different. After two hours in the customs shed, we emerged to find the clouds had dissipated and the sun was warming the mountains. Here the earth was equally barren but was painted with a colourful palette of pastel shades.

We descended through a valley with the coloured peaks towering on either side of us. Being amongst them, we could feel the presence of the mountains unlike that I have ever felt before. And somewhere out there was Aconcagua, the western hemisphere's highest peak.

Around each bend the view seemed to get even better with a new backdrop of forms or colours and it was probably fortunate that we weren't driving as we would have still been there on the side of the road taking pictures as the sun set.

We had a long way to descend and the landscape went on and on as we wound downwards next to the river. Our headaches hadn't gone away and I suddenly realised that I was craving coffee. It dawned on me that we had a boring old caffeine headache not the symptoms of altitude sickness.

Our first mission in Mendoza was therefore to seek out a coffee, which the book promised would be an improvement on the stuff served in Chile. I'm sorry LAN but powdered coffee creamer is not milk.

Probably because of the good coffee, the people of Mendoza seemed cheerful and we quickly felt comfortable wandering the bustling streets that seemed a lot more European than what we'd seen in Chile. In the pedestrian mall, cafes were spread across the footpath under the canopy of the dense trees that also lined the main streets. We sat down to an 'early' dinner which was served after 9pm and spent the rest of the evening watching people go by.

Oh and the coffee was the best we'd tasted since Brisbane.

Next stop: Cycling wineries

Valparaiso

It's hard to imagine that a town just over 100km from Santiago could be so different. But Valparaiso might as well be in a different country.

We arrived on Sunday afternoon while the street markets were still in full swing. Compared to European Santiago, the only thing we could see that had anything in common with that part of the world was the thick jackets worn by the people on the street. The streets were dirty and full of rubbish, stray dogs slept on every corner and the inhabitants seemed less happy than those of the capital.

Valparaiso is said to be a unique city in Chile and it isn't because the waters of the Pacific Ocean lap onto it's shore. The waterfront is a working port full of container ships that's separated by multiple fences and a train line. What's unique is the brightly painted buildings clinging to the steep hills behind the flat central business district.

These are reached by a series of 15 ascensores (escalators) and multiple sets of stairs.

The first staircase we came to we climbed, a stray dog huffing and puffing alongside our every step. Midway up, Jeff compared the climb to the stair case going up the Eiffel tower with it's 678 steps. By the top, it didn't feel that much different and the view was equally good, expect maybe not as pretty. The bright blue cranes of the port dominated the horizon and the buildings of the city seemed to crumble before our very eyes.

 

Down on the ground there was rubbish and dog poo everywhere and it quickly became abundantly clear that this was quite a different neighbourhood. Artistic graffiti covered the walls and everyone who we passed starred at us. We followed the main street as I was unwilling to turn down the side alleys, but we soon turned back as it seemed like we were getting nowhere.

Next we chanced upon the Ascensor Concepcion which happens to be the oldest in the city. Catching it up, we found ourselves in a totally different neighbourhood. Here the footpaths had been swept, there was no graffiti in sight and all the people who looked at us, were also tourists. In fact, there were hardly any locals in the area apart from those cleaning the streets. This was the side that the city obviously wanted visitors to see.

The brightly painted buildings were well maintained and had pretty details. From the neat terraces we could see the rolling hillsides covered in bright houses. Down below in one of the squares a stage was being set up and after wandering around the hills we arrived just in time for the sound check. The free concert was starting later that evening.

When we returned the square, it was packed with people and the first musician was already playing. He was a guitarist and vocalist signing pop sounding songs all in Spanish that consistently sounded full of angst and passion.

In the next group a woman with a lovely voice sang along to guitars, violins, the double bass and African drums. One song in particular sounded very good and I was surprised that I almost seemed to know what was coming next. Then I realised it was an English song translated.

While we waited for the third band to come on we could hear a drum beat coming from around the corner. Everyone craned their neck to see and Jeff joked that they were trying to compete with the concert. Then they walked on stage, a group of women dressed in indigenous skirts and Peruvian scarves over their shoulders. They were signing along with the drum beat. A moment later they started playing pan flutes and dancing. Compared to the pop music the sound was so unique I grabbed the camera and started recording, thinking “I've got to blog this!”

At the end of their song, another band joined them on stage and the packed crowd jumped to their feet and started dancing along to the new sound of the indigenous and pop music blend. The lead singer quite obviously an entertainer got the crowd cheering and clapping to their next songs as other instruments like sitars and indigenous horn.

At the end of the set the rapt audience was genuinely cheering and shouting for more.

But the main purpose of the concert that evening turned out the be the screening of “Temporary Valparaiso” which we guessed was a short film entry. Between songs from a local artists they showed vintage film of the city, parts of which we could recognise. But we didn't stay for the whole video, instead opting to wander home and experience the real Valparaiso.

Next Stop: The Andes

Santiago from the Hills

When in Santiago, it's hard to forget that it's a city set at the base of the Andes. Just when you do, you look down the street between European style buildings and there on the horizon are snow capped mountains.

Santiago lacked the colour we had expected until we reached an area on the other side of the river. During the evening the brightly painted buildings are the backdrop for a thriving cafe and pub scene, but when we walked through around lunch time it was quiet.

For a better look of the city and to escape the traffic and pollution we'd decided to wander up through the Parque Metropolitano to the Virgin Mary statue at the top of the nearby Cerro San Cristobal. The dirt track that led up there seemed a little abandoned, but was lined with pretty spring flowers that covered the steep hillside.

We climbed quickly, getting a good view over Santiago, but of course it was the mountains that drew our attention. Despite the pollution it was clear enough to see the chain around the city that stretches north to Bolivia and south to the Atlantic.

From the top of the hill looking into the distance we were convinced that the some of what we thought was mountains must surely be clouds because they seemed too high compared to the others. Then slowly we spotted the snow on the tops and the jagged line of the peaks.

Down the bottom in the colourful Bario Bellavista, the late afternoon had already brought crowds to the pubs. The footpath was packed with artisans selling jewellery displayed on blankets on the ground and pedestrians wandering along the sunny street as they probably did most Saturday afternoons.

Next Stop: A unique Chilean town

Santiago de Chile

Our blind went up just in time to see the two defining geographic features of Chile, it's coastline and the Andes. On the narrow part of land in between lay the sprawl of Santiago and as we turned towards the airport it seemed like the plane had to climb a little higher to miss the peaks of the mountains directly below.

The first view of Chile

Safely on the ground, the slow process of familiarising ourselves with a new country began. Our sleep deprived brains fumbled trying to work out where on earth we were. Just outside customs we were hassled which seemed just like in Morocco but at least here, no thank you means no thank you. On the bus Jeff's Spanish was put to the test as we were short-changed by 1000 or so pesos, just like in Romania.

It's always a shock to see an area where the ground is covered in rubbish and the houses are falling apart. From the bus window we observed the street life what we hopped was the dirty and dilapidated part of Santiago while wondering what we had gotten ourselves into. And of course we knew we would stand out.

If the people of Santiago noticed us lugging our packs down their street they certainly didn't show it, which was a big relief.

The Casa Roja hostel, located in a 19th century mansion that we had found online turned out to be everything that had been promised. Elegant and classy even our room decked out in antique furniture had a beautifully crafted 4m ceiling. Opening the shuttered doors onto the Juliet balcony we watched the traffic careen along the street below.

I wouldn't describe Santiago as a beautiful town, with it's new buildings of a bland design and it's old ones were crumbling. The shop fronts seemed stuck in the 80's with dirty signs and yellow lighting. But the people seemed cheerful and friendly.

In the main square, groups of tarot card readers where revealing fortunes, while local artists sold their paintings near by. A comedian had gathered a huge group of mostly men all around him and on the other side a group of teenagers were dancing for another crowd. Just like in eastern Europe, elderly men were playing chess in the rotunda.

Down the street the shops were full of people. Oddly enough, the most popular ones were the cake decorating shops where a long queue of people waited to pick up orders. There were at least half a dozen of these lined up in a row.

Next to them, knitting wool in all colours of the rainbow lined the shelves top to bottom of the next six or so shops. These were full of mostly women, some just buying others in groups taking a class. In another area I found crafter's paradise with an arcade exclusively devoted to crafting. These were also packed with people.

We'd planned to go to bed early, but between free! WiFi! and a bottle of Chilean wine, we were already on South American time.

Next Stop: Santiago from the hills