Mullet Spotting and other hobbies

Mendoza, Northern Argentina

Typical Mendozans

Mendoza is a large city in the northwest of Argentina with lots of elaborate colonial architecture, large plazas and more shoe shops than I have ever seen. Mendozans must be some kind of wierd millipede people to need so many shoes. By lucky coincidence, it is also home to 75% of the country's wine production and most gringos passing through the city do some kind of wine tour. Mendoza is also the undisputed 'Mullet Capital of the World'. Almost every male between the age of 14 and 40 sports some kind of rat tail or shaved sides and perm. Couple this with fact that Argentina contains 67% of the world's remaining Ford Cortina Mark II's and whole place is like some crazy 1983 flashback. The feeling is only compounded by the fact that the only music you ever hear is 80's pop. If I have to listen to John Farnham's 'You're the Voice' one more time, someone might have to die. Both Cara and I have noticed Argentina also seems to have a staggering proportion of pregnant women at the moment, somewhat like Burnley, although none of them look fourteen so in that respect nothing like Burnley.

While we were there the city was exceedingly hot in a way that makes breathing a chore, so as a precaution we spent the first few days sitting in cafes, drinking beer and eating empanadas. Our room at the hostal looked out over a very small courtyard and didn't seem to get any air circulating around it, so most nights were pretty uncomfortable, sleepwise. It was a bit like trying to sleep in an oven. We did have a large fan at the foot of the bed but that just turned the room into a fan-assisted oven, staying the same temperature but cooking us that little bit quicker. Eventually, and after much procrastination that is a large part of our daily lives, we decided to get ourselves around a few vineyards and taste the local vino tinto. Our laziness attained a new level here as we booked ourselves onto a tour that took us around 3 different vineyards but didn't set off until 2pm. We all rushed the guides through the production process as best we could and on to the tasting rooms. At the third vineyard we were treated to a wine tasting masterclass by the owner. It turns out that tasting wine is a subtle and complicated process and you're not supposed to just throw it down your neck as fast as your gag reflex will allow. Who knew? After sampling few very pleasant reds, we were shown into a small room with a table piled high with plates of all kinds of tasty treats. More wine bottles were opened and we were left to our own devices to pass the next couple of hours as we so wished. A few of the party didn't really drink wine, which seemed to me a bit like showing a vegetarian around an abattoir, but what the hell. More wine for the rest of the dipsomaniacs. I carved my way across the table like a Tasmanian Devil and poured myself another glass. It was at this point I realised why the tour only started mid-afternoon. By the time we arrived back at the hostel I was fit for nothing and the rest of the day passed in a bit of a purple grape haze.

The day after our wine tour we had arranged to go horse riding out in the mountains. Obviously Cara had experience of riding horses but I had never been near the things in my life. Now I know that having never ridden a horse before would be an interesting enough exercise for most people, but not for this fellow. Just to make it that little bit more interesting I decided to give myself diarrhea that very morning (damn that wine tour!). What a fascinating 2 hours that was, Cara on 'Champion the Wonder Horse' and me on 'Old Gluestick'. When they first dragged him out I thought he looked enormous like an old shire horse, but as you can see from the photos, I look more like an orangutan riding a yorkshire terrier. And Gluestick wasn't too happy either. He took one look at me, rolled his eyeballs and crapped right next to my feet. Cara, knowing I had a dodgy stomach, just stared at the mess on the floor, gave me a nasty look and tutted some kind of apology to the rest of the group for her skanky boyfriend.

Before setting off on our adventure, the horsey fella gave me quick instructions on how to steer Gluestick, which essentially involved yanking his head to the right when I wanted to go right and yanking it to the left when I wanted to go left. With you so far, Zorro. To stop, I was supposed to pull his head back and say something assertive. Hmmmmmm. Now I have to admit that I never realised how expressive horses faces can be. For example, when I first climbed onto Gluestick's back, or was thrown on to be more accurate, he turned his big, hairy head around and looked me straight in the eye, and I swear he was thinking 'Holy shit, you weigh more than me! How the hell am I expected to carry your lardarse for 2 hours? And while we're on the subject, you can forget about that whole head yanking business. Three times a day I drag the likes of you around this bloody hill, you think I don't know the way already?' Except in Spanish, obviously.

The next two hours went off pretty much without a hitch, although having to involuntarily clench your buttocks the whole time is apparently not the most relaxing way to ride a horse. The scenery was excellent and we managed to cover quite a bit of ground in the time we had, but obviously galloping was never going to be on the cards. One thing I did notice was that men and women ride horses in very different ways. For example, women tend to look relaxed and have an 'isn't this a lovely way to see the countryside' kind of look on their faces. Men, on the other hand, can't help but squint their eyes and mentally whistle the theme tune from 'The Good, The Bad and The Ugly' the whole time. This is the same juvenile psychology that prevents a man from picking up a cordless drill without pretending it's a gun. If I'd been offered a poncho and some boots I'd have been there in a flash. Apparently it's impossible for a man to ride a horse without pretending he's Clint Eastwood. After the horse riding, we spent the rest of the afternoon in the natural thermal baths out in the desert, although being 106 degrees in the shade, we headed for the cold water instead.

We had initially planned on spending Christmas in Mendoza, but after a few days we had seen as much of the city as we really wanted to, so we decided to grab a couple of bus tickets and head north to Salta. We walked to the bus station, as it was only 3 miles away and 237°c in the shade. Besides, a taxi would have cost us 75p and we hadn't budgeted for that kind of crazy expenditure!

Our last night in Mendoza was spent sitting on the roof of our hostel, drinking excellent wines and leisurely watching thousands of drunken Argentines parade through the streets after Boca Juniors won the Copa America final to become South American Champions. Nothing like a bit of looting to celebrate that famous victory, eh!

Oh, and by the way, I have submitted for patent a new invention of mine called the 'Infallible Chewing Gum Detector'. I know that to the layman it might look remarkably similar to a pair of ordinary flip-flops, but that is just the beauty and ergonomics of the design. When wearing my new invention about town, it seems I can barely walk 5 paces without seeking out a lump of sticky gum lying on the path. As a free bonus, they are only slightly less effective as 'Sloppy Dogshit Detectors'. There you go, two for the price of one and only 50 Baht a pair!

We took a bus to Salta. It probably took 20 hours.

Mik

For the record, Mik's horse is the healthy looking one

and Cara's nag is the one on it's arse !!