Mendoza, Come for the Wine, Stay because of the Food

How does 2 days (the plan) turn into 5? The answer: a violent stomach infection! And so goes our first experience in Argentina.

Our time in Mendoza began like any other stop, we arrived on a bus from Santiago, a beautiful trip over the Andes, on a Tuesday night. After our search for treap lodging, we settled on a seemingly decent hostel w/ a pool outside of our room.

We head out into the late evening in search of food, and came accross just that, a Mecca of fast food in the Mercado Central. I convinced Lauren that the Argentines would be able to make a decent rendition of my favorite food: the burrito. Wishful thinking of course, as they turned out snacks that were no bigger than a taco bell taco, and about as tasty (how does that sound Rusty?). So we found ourselves searching for a second dinner at 11pm; this time we went for the authentic Argentine cuisine, a better decision.

On our second day, we set out for the infamous Mendocino wine country, responsible for over 75% of the country´s booming wine industry. The rural wine country is a 40 minute bus ride from the center of the city, which happens to be free if you don´t have any change to pay, bonus! Once there, we rented bicycles so that we could cover more ground, however we still only made it to one winery. After one excellent tasting round, we found ourselves too impaired to ride our bikes...apparently a ´taste´is a bit bigger in Argentina.

Our next day in Mendoza, our supposed last day in town, began yet again with the sounds of birds chirping. Mendocinos were going about their days in their casual-busy style; children were playing world cup caliber games of soccer on the town square, and by 1pm, Lauren was throwing up her breakfast behind a park bench.

Fast forward to the next day, (skipping the details of the unpleasantries of the repeated trips to the bathroom), and we had outstayed our welcome at the hostel, a 3 night maximum. I proceeded to pack all of our stuff and move it to a hotel accross the street, as it was clear we weren´t going anywhere that day. Lauren managed to collect her self enough to make the grueling journey from one bed to the other. It was also very clear that something needed to be done, so I explained the situation to the kid at the reception desk. He assured me he´d take care of it.

They arrived, (two of them), about 40 minutes later in style - via ambulance. Their nurse uniforms appeared to be clean and legitimate, as well as their portable medical kit. The male nurse stood timidly in the corner once I invited him in. The woman did most of the talking, and doctoring for that matter. My first question to her: ¨Se habla ingles¨ was answered by a wave of the hand over the head, the international sign for Not a Chance. Upon listening to the sounds Lauren´s stomach with her stethoscope, she exclaimed, ¨Muy fuerte!¨ The last time I had heard that phrase was when our waitor tried to describe the gnarly lightning storm that hit in Puno. So I listened myself to the little war taking place in Lauren´s stomach, with amazement. The nurse administered a painful shot in Lauren´s backside to help with the vomiting, and wrote us a prescription for antibiotics.

The road to recovery included the aforementioned medicines, simple foods (like fruits), and episodes of Law & Order (Special Victims unit, the lamer one with the lamer theme music), CSI Miami, and some Jacki Chan movie (giving a specific name of the movie would not clarify any). We managed to escape Mendoza, having spent more time here than anywhere else, yet having seen and done nearly nothing. Oh well, it was time for a break.


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