Day 29 saw us take off on our first proper bus journey in Argentina - a 4 hour ride from Salta to Cafayate, Argentina’s lesser-known and higher-altitude wine region. I had somehow managed to Spanish us some bus tickets, then Spanish us a date change for no extra charge when we realised that all accommodation in Cafayate was booked out for their annual music festival. I napped through the first boring-as-hell 2.5 hours of the ride through suburbs and farmland, only to wake up to the most incredible rock formations as we got closer to Cafayate.
Look at how stoked we were that we got the best seats on the bus - right in front of the huge windscreen
This was honestly one of the most spectacular bus trips I've ever taken, albeit less memorable than the 8-hour ride I once had in Costa Rica where a strange insect took a chunk out of my butt so big I couldn't sit comfortably for about 2 months
Look at them rocks! Just look at them!
Best little wine town nestled in the Andes
By some partially evil and partially benevolent miracle, we managed to get off the bus and checked into our hostel exactly 5 minutes before Jeremy was struck down by the food poisoning devil. I will omit the details of his tribulations, except to say that due to the fact that it was Carnaval, we were kept up all night by the family who ran the hostel singing folk songs until early hours of the morning, which did not help with Jeremy’s recovery.
Hammocking under the vines seems like a great idea until your entire body is consumed by mosquitoes
Jeremy wasn’t really well enough to leave his bed the next day (but at least he wasn’t deliriously feverish any more), while I woke up covered in mosquito bites. The hostel we were staying at was graced with a canopy of grape vines and a nice water feature, which was lovely to look at but also meant that a small army of mosquitoes lurked all over the property. Driven mad by itchiness, I ran away for an hour or so while Jeremy was napping in order to seek solace in alcohol. Just around the corner from where we were staying was Bodega Nanni, an organic winery with a charming garden, where I indulged in some tastings along with some snooty older people who dumped most of their glasses (I, of course, drank up like the good Kiwi alcy I am - waste not, want not!). Their reds were so-so but I enjoyed their torrontés, which smelled amazing and was very dry with quite a low acidity level.
Grapes from these very vines went into Nanni's torrontés. These very vines growing right next to their toilet.
The cute garden at Nanni
Thankfully by day 31 (our last day in Cafayate), Jeremy’s insides were feeling stable enough to try out a small amount of wine and not waste our first visit to a high-altitude wine region. For the morning, we hit up Bodega El Esteco just outside of town (15 minutes walk away from our hostel) for a tour and tasting. The setting and grounds of this winery were incredibly beautiful, and the peek into their winemaking process was interesting. Apparently concrete is a great container material for making organic wines due to its natural porosity (learning new things ftw). Their red wines had some really interesting flavours, but were a bit too heavy for drinking without food for accompaniment (especially as it was before midday!)
Spot the tiny slightly-intoxicated Katharine
What an awesome place to make wine. Apparently the huge temperature fluctuations (blinding sun in the day and freezing desert-like conditions at night) are great for concentrating the sugars within the grapes.
Grapey goodness
Sweet concrete wine eggs
A section of what I like to think of as the "wine library" at El Esteco
Obviously the natural thing to do after morning wines is to get wine ice cream. Unfortunately, the shop where wine ice cream originated was closed for refurbishment, but luckily a couple of the other ice cream stores in town had stolen their idea, so I didn’t miss out. Of course I had to try both malbec and torrontés (I’m blaming it on my curiosity, not my alcoholism). Now these aren’t just wine flavoured, they’re actually made of wine with enough sugar and water added to enable it to be frozen into sorbet, and strong enough so that you can feel the alcohol evaporating in your mouth as it melts. So pretty much my dream food. After lunch & siesta time, we hit up a couple of the bodegas close to our hostel: El Transito and the tiny Figueroa. We weren’t too impressed with the wines at either of these two places - the torrontes at El Transito had an amazing aroma but none of the fruitiness really came out in the taste, despite my violent swirling. Or maybe my palate just isn’t sophisticated enough because I’m a cheap classless drunk. Dinner consisted of annoying the staff at the supposed best empanada place in the country (Casa de las Empanadas) by asking for exactly one empanada in each of their 12 flavours (all freshly made to order). Although the empanadas here were indeed delicious (except for the tuna one, yuck), after 31 days of non-stop empanada consumption, I think we were a bit sick of them. Jeremy won’t stop comparing empanadas to pies, although it’s an apple-orange situation. Silly man.
The only thing scarier than both my manic ice cream face and my manic alcoholic face is my manic alcoholic ice cream face
What even is this adorable building and why is it so damn cute!?
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