Hello all,
I sense that it is time for a new blog post. Luckily for you, and me, my life here is interesting enough for me to actually have something worthwhile to write about every time I feel like jotting down a new update. If there was any question as to whether I would be continuing this ever-entertaining blog once my travels cease, my answer is definitely no. My life at home is nowhere as exciting, or action-packed as it has been over the last month here in Argentina. Unfortunately, it tends to be almost as ridiculous and embarrassing, but that’s a whole other issue. Anywho, this past weekend, my friends and I decided that with our long break from school (we had a 5 day weekend because of labor day--like I’ve always said, this country is weird, but I’m actually not complaining this time. I’m all for the extra time off.) that we should do a little traveling. We decided on a neighboring province called Mendoza. This beautiful spot is known for it’s vineyards and quaint city, and because of the always popular attraction of wine, it gets tons of tourists year-round.
Once we made our decision, our first act was to pick out the perfect hostel. Luckily, we found a website that directly compares each one in every category, and provides commentary from previous travelers. Our criteria was simple: 1) it had to be cheap--this was for obvious reasons. See ‘broke college kids’ excerpt in previous post. And 2) it had to be fun--this was really our first priority but I thought it would be cliche to list it as number 1 seeing as my last blog was entirely about Rosario nightlife. I think we can all agree I’m not one to overdue it. So after crowding around my laptop at the nearest McDonald’s (free wi-fi) at 11:30pm 4 days before we wanted to leave (and 2 hours after purchasing our tickets at the bus station, which had been immediately followed by a ridiculously long, incredibly incorrect bus ride to the outskirts, and ghetto, of Rosario), we were finally able to make a decision. Our hostel of choice promised ping pong, a pool table and a swimming pool; excursion package deals; a great staff; and 30 minutes of free, all-you-can-drink-tequila on Saturday nights. (That offer quickly overruled our concerns surrounding the relatively low 85% rating on cleanliness. I mean, come on...)
So Thursday evening eventually rolled around and after a quick snack run, a crammed taxi ride, and a fair amount of our ever-present struggle sessions to locate the right bus, we managed to find the way to our seats by 10:30pm. Now my advice to you if you’re up against a 13 hour (yes, that’s for real, no typo) bus ride is to get your hands on the complete first season of Game of Thrones and watch as much as physically possible before that computer battery runs out. It’s amazing and addictive and I owe Tyler big time, that’s all I’m saying. Although, now that I think about it, probably only approximately 10-15% of my blog readers would actually appreciate the grotesque violence and pornographic sex scenes that only HBO can be responsible for, so scratch that. But either way, those first few episodes got us through a small portion of the trip, and before we knew it we were all peacefully snoozing our way to Mendoza. Fast forward 10 hours and there we were, rolling into the bus station of our highly anticipated destination.
It was 11:30am and we were already off to a rough start. I’m not entirely sure why, but I feel like every time I try to sleep on some form of transportation, I wake up with a worse hang over than any night of heavy drinking could deliver. And as soon as my eyes opened, I realized my three traveling companions were sharing in that same, unfortunate sentiment. We were all in horrible moods immediately because we were starving, and despite the lengthy rest we actually got, we felt like we had about 10 minutes of sleep under our belts. Then there were the weird aches and pains that you can’t begin to explain, like “why do my teeth hurt” and “how could I possibly have a bruise there”. Who knows... but we knew we needed a serious dose of coffee and a horizontal bed, and stat. Fast forward again, another 10 hours, after pizza for lunch (and leftovers for dinner--the broke college kids line also applies here), and a much needed group nap, our trip really began.
In the interest of time (you know how I love to be brief) I will summarize our next 48 hours as best I can: After my first hostel experience, I think I definitely understand the appeal. There we were on our first night, splitting beers over a game of King’s Cup with quite the eclectic group. One guy from France, another from Belgium, two girls from Holland, the four of us, and of course one guy from Colorado (he goes to Boulder An, how weird is that?? I wonder if you know him!). Over the course of the next two days, we met travelers from Australia, South Africa, Germany, Sweden, Brazil, England and much more. Conversations would switch from English to Spanish to French to Dutch in less than a minute, and the accents were all over the place. Communicating suddenly became more difficult than ever. By the end of the weekend we were actually relieved to return to Spanish. At least we know which language we suck at when we’re in Rosario... Anywho, the next couple of days included wine tasting at two vineyards, followed by a trip to an olive oil factory, a tour of the Andes (can you say stunning? and wind rash?), and as promised, our free-tequila night. I only wish those activities took place in that order. But alas, things are never as easy as they should be here, so naturally it was the night of drinking that occurred directly before our 7am, all-day bus trip to see those beautiful mountains. And luckily for us (please note the sarcasm), Mendoza hostels require parting hours similar to those in Rosario, and perhaps even more drinking. However, I’m well aware that the majority of my readers are related to me, and many are over the age of 50, so I’ll skip out on the details, just this one time. (Except to remind anyone who was able to join us on our family trip to Las Vegas this past year, and had the pleasure of seeing Shana with possibly a Guinness World Records-status hang over on our 9 hour raft tour, the morning following our big adventure. Basically it was like that. But worse.)
Overall, the weekend was a great success. Memories were made, bucketlist items were checked off, and facebook pictures were uploaded. (Some to be untagged in the very near future, I’ll keep my promise, Nathan). It was exhausting and ridiculous, but what else should our travels look like, right? I’m off to bed to continue my attempt at recovery, but no fear--we’re off to Buenos Aires next weekend, with a blog update sure to follow!
Happy bday Mike!!!
Missing you all!
Love,
Henya
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