Central Market, Mendoza, Day 80

Before Christi and I embark upon a long overnight ride to Bariloche aboard our luxury Andesmar bus, we have time to explore the central market – well we’ve missed all those unusual body parts. And the market does not disappoint: whole goats, whole pigs, brains, intestines, tongues – not to mention free-range snails that continually escape their container in a slimy bid for freedom. At least the central market is clean (the snails aside). Whether it’s safe, though, is another matter because I’m constantly warned to be on the look-out for thieves and bag slashers, but as everyone is warning me about everyone else it’s difficult to know who the bad guys are! We risk the market parrillada (barbecue plate) for lunch. It’s meat – lots of it (and, as usual, no vegetables). We taste most things, but draw the line at some mangled entrails that are oozing a creamy / slimy substance (perhaps one of those free-range snails took a wrong turn). The locals love it, however.

In the afternoon, we visit the Lujan wineries such as Carmine Granata in the manner that God intended – an air-conditioned bus. Once again, Christi seems to have a glass of wine in her hand for most of the afternoon and is very happy. The tour also throws in a visit to an artisanal olive oil producer, Pasrai SRL. Man, the people of Argentina know how to live. Trouble is, with all the red meat, olive oil, wine, and cigarettes, they probably don’t get to live it for long.

Now very occasionally I make a mistake (climbing Parinacota, for example) and today is a doozy. Our luxury bus to Bariloche is scheduled to leave at 20.45 (that’s 10.45 pm for those not so familiar with the 24-hour clock). At 8.35 pm Christi and I are enjoying a relaxed stroll along the streets of Mendoza wondering whether we should eat dinner or wait for the free meal on the bus when we happen upon the downtown offices of our bus company, Andesmar. We stop to ask what yummy treats Andesmar has in store for us when the rep’s eyes suddenly bulge out of his head and he frantically starts pointing at our ticket. For those of you who have not yet twigged my HUGE mistake, 20.45 is of course 8.45 pm, so our expensive luxury bus is currently revving up its engine in preparation for an imminent departure – but on the other side of town. After begging the rep to call the bus station and stop our bus leaving, Christi and I sprint several, lung-busting blocks back to our hotel to collect our packs (it’s 8.40 pm). Will we make it? You’ll have to tune in tomorrow for the riveting finalé.