Mendoza

September 28, 2016

Construction site. A new footbal/sports arena on the site of a stadium used in the Argentina 1978 Football World Cup.

There's an obvious problem.

You remember how I said I'd checked into the hostel for three nights, intending to have two whole days in Mendoza. Well, its just not possible to do everything I want in those days, such as laundry, bike maintainance,, and a long list of other things. Then am I not suppose to be resting instead of running around. Also there's writing this. I'm a slow writer, so that takes time. In short, having arrived Friday afternoon, the intension to leave Monday, but now it's Wednesday afternoon.

However, I'm all set to leave in the morning.

I had you may remember too, misgivings about this hostel when I first checked in. But they have been shortlived by the nice people that I've met up with here. It has turned out to be one of the best hostels I've stayed at in a while. Comfortable bed, large all you-can-eat breakfast, including good coffee. Free use of washing machine. And free wine happy hour in the evenings from seven to, eh? They leave a big jar of it out, refilling it when need be.

As I mentioned, I'd thought I'd made a poor choice until that first ice-breaking introduction with a fellow hostelier, Australian, Timme, almost my age, outdoorsy type, who's been to Argentina previously, even been to Antartica.

Timme's most embarassing moment he told me, came when he reached the attention of the national media in Australia a few years ago. When on a winter hike up to a mountaintop, to a refuse hut, where he became stuck due to a heavy snowfall. He called the mountain rescue people on his mobil a few times over a few days. Eventually they arrived on the fourth day when he was pretty desparate, having not eaten in days.

Anyway, the headline in the national newpaper read "NO PROPER PREPARATION. NO EMERGENGY SUPPLIES. NO PROPER SHOES. NO IDEA!"

Later I met Hyram, another Aussie of Syrlankan parents. A real life of the party person. At the same time I met Sam, or Samantha from Chicargo. The three of us were companions on a cycle wine tour. Well we didn't do much touring of the vineyards in the Maipo suburb of Mendoza once we'd found the bodega, as wineries are called here, Themus Alba. A posh place with a terrace restaurant where we sat down to taste wines of different grape varieties. I commented "this must be a goldmine for the owners with the prices they charge. So it was, the cheapest bottle of wine was 210 pesos, or almost eleven pounds. But when in Rome.

It was fun on the way back to the cycle hire shop, having a good southerly tailwind, we raced. Hyram got ahead on his bike. But I kept excelerating to maximum speed as the wind bowled the three of us along the cycle-lane. I waited my chance, until there was no other cyclist coming the other way, or other obstruction in the way, when I moved out, flying past him like a motorbike. Back outside the hire shop I asked him "Did you not see me fly pass?" How he laughed. Then I scared the life out of a dog standing in the middle of the cycle-lane facing away from the way I's coming. The dog jumped with fright when it saw me at the last moment.

There were two motorcyclists, an unlikely pairing. Made possible by a website for yacht owners looking for people wanting to travel round the world, while working onboard. The yacht presently is in port in Colombia, while they tour the length of South America on motorbikes.

The younger of the two, Andrez from Italy came over while I'm fitting a new innertube, openning the conversation with "I aride a mountain byike..." His bike here is a Honda 350cc sporty thing, with low racing position, not ideal for touring. He complains "it is a estupid bike! Drink fuel, because it needs to be revved so much due to the weight of luguage on the back." he adds " I a need something with 650 engine." like his partner.

I didn't quite get the partner's name, the yacht owner, a retired dentist from Maine. 73 years old, but looking not a day over sixty. The US election TV head-to-head debate between Clinton and Trump, he had to stop talking to see. Commenting "America needs a new president like Ronald Reagan. Trump is good..."

Hyram, Samantha, a few others and me all go out to Mendoza's cafe and bar street, where at a pavement table we get involved in a language exchange with locals over a few beers. They wanting to practise their English, while we practise our Spanish. It was a good evening.

I don't think I've anything more to add, except I've learnt to appreciate good company that is made possible by staying in hostels.

I won't have any company tomorrow, just me and the bike.

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