Good Food, Plentiful Wine & Goats Galore

So we had finally escaped from the maximum security country that is Bolivia and headed into Salta in northern Argentina. Following our usual level of good luck in such matters we arrived at 23:00 and waited nearly 45 minutes for a taxi from the airport as we had managed to fly in at the end of a religious festival and all the taxis were busy in town!

One good nights sleep in Salta and we were off again, taking a bus to Cafayate with a lone ambition of getting free booze as we were heading for wine country and as many free wine tasting tours as you can shake a stick at!

We took a small bus for the four hour trip, with some glorious scenery and beautiful weather to help us make the way. Unfortunately the young lady sitting in-front of me appeared to be under the mistaken apprehension that I had no legs and Siobháns aversion to any road with a bend in it made for a less than pleasant journey. None the less, once we arrived, the accommodation we had booked was just round the corner from the main square and was beautifully decorated, leaving us to while away the afternoon in the sun with very few concerns.

The evening came and we headed for the restaurant in town most recommended for steak and I think it is fair to say we were salivating at the prospect of finally getting a good meal following the gastronomic wasteland that is Bolivia. It is hard to describe how truly happy we were as the side of cow was place in-front of each of us and I started my long awaited recovery from the mere waife of a boy I had become . . . anyway, getting back to reality it is clear to see where Argentina get their reputation for the worlds best steak, so our trip to Cafayate ended its first day on more than happy terms.

The second day brought with it the prime purpose of our little jaunt, and so it was that we came upon renting the worlds most uncomfortable bikes in all of creationdom. The little vineyards were not far apart from each other or town, but this did not prevent my poor behind from becoming more battered than a cod from the local fish shop!

A small trifle such as this was not about to prevent the goal of free wine however, and so it was we made our way to the first vineyard which was . . . shut – damn it! Never mind onto the one next door, definitely open as it had tour buses outside so we set about our quite unsuccessful mission of making ourselves understood to the Spanish speaking employees and spectacularly failed for a second time to get so much of a sniff of the juice of the gods – double damn it!

Feeling somewhat beaten and a little weak at the knees from the dehydration brought on by our lack of liquid sustainance we headed for our third stop, the first proper bodega (they make the wine but don’t have vines). Glory be to God upon high if they weren’t open (if only just as it was approaching lunch) and surely enough they filled our glasses as we nodded sagely and made appropriate gurgling sounds to show our approval. We were clearly getting in the swing of things as we made it to our next bodega within a 50m walk (again just squeezing in before lunch) and worked through our little routine again, nodding to each other and sniffing in a suitable theatrical manner.

The wind had clearly turned in our favour, allowing us to cycle back to the first vineyard we had tried for which we had now figured out the opening times and this time we were met with success, not just more wine, but also a tour around the facilities. We made ourselves sound rather knowledgeable to our lovely hostess by mentioning Napa Valley and Stellenbosch and before you know it we were making our way back into town rather pleased with our days efforts and very much more unsteadily on the bikes, partly I suspect from the wine, but I fear more so from the bruising endowed to my poor bottom!

During our little adventure, we had bought a bottle of wine from each stop (just to be polite you understand) so we had a cunning plan to drink the first of these in our hotel that evening prior to dinner, but for this we felt we would need a little accompaniment.

Now before I go further, I should warn Joe and Rav that they should perhaps not be reading this at work as the excitement and jealousy they are about to feel may get them some odd looks as they start to perspire and go red (just to clear up any misunderstanding for the rest of my probably limited readership, I should point out that during a previous trip to Croatia we discovered an unhealthy bond between the gentlemen named above and the creatures I am about to mention below).

I have previously promised to Joe that I would provide a picture of a nice Alpaca to make up for the lack of Goat pictures I had managed to get for him (check the comments on previous blog entries) and indeed during one of our wine stops I did indeed get the picture as promised however, someone was clearly thinking Joe and Ravi deserved better than this and so it was we discovered just 1Km out of town a . . . Goat Farm!

Siobhán and I got some pictures for you lads [see the full collection here], but be warned some of those goats pictured are minors (by which I mean young, rather than working under ground) and so should be afforded the appropriate level of respect.

Anyway, now I have the little in-jokes with the gang back in London in print (can you say in print when it’s in a blog?), I will attempt to return back to the details of the day. We had a tour round the farm and purchased some very pleasant cheese to go with our wine, making for the end of a rather successful, if painful day.

One further day was spent in Cafayate, before a further bus journey back to Salta and a second anniversary dinner in Salta, where the extremely nice owner showed us round his wine cellar, we drank champagne and puffed a fine cigar (well I did anyway). I will leave this entry here, next up Buenos Aires . . .