Well in a word, my favourite part of Santiago was ´Italiano´, your average hotdog, only smothered in Guacamole. What more could you want from a measly 50p? The area where we stayed was a student vibe with a couple of Universities nearby. Although there´s not a huge amount to do in Santiago, we managed to amuse ourselves with rambling around the city and taking advantage of one of the clubs in town, aptly named ´Blondie´to our tastes- this place had ´specials´each night. The first night we went, much to my appreciation it was the ´afterparty´for a Kylie gig on that night in Santiago. So it was a Kylie special. Now I assumed this would mean a couple of Kylie hits during the night, but no, it exceeded all of my expectations, playing Kylie´s entire back-catalogue of hits, not only for our audio pleasure, but there were infact, DVDJS, who not only played the hits, but had the videos on big screen for our visual enjoyment. After a great night of camp dancing around to the greatest pop hits, we decided to venture to Blondie again, for a second indulgence. The next night, the special was britpop, focusing primarily on The Smiths and Blur. The entire career of The Smiths and Morrissey played over the screens, I couldn´t help but wish my Dad was there, he would have loved it.
Much of our time in Santiago was spent in our hostel of many amenities. However, we managed to make a trip to the zoo, nothing out of the ordinary but the aviary was something else. The prices weren´t too bad considering what we had been told about Chile. The weather was beautiful and we were glad to have gone, whilst at the same time, anticipating our next leg of the journey.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Mendoza and the Vineyards
Mendoza is one of the smaller cities we've visited, which was a nice change from the constant bustle of major cities. All the streets are tree lined and wide, terraced with mismatched somewhat doll-style houses. Water streams down the deep man made gutters either side of the road providing the drier areas with running water.
On our second day we went down to the vineyards by bus and rented bikes to cycle the 12km round trip in the intense heat. Luckily most of the mid day heat was blocked by the hundreds of trees shading the road. Either side of our path were miles and miles of vineyards, lines and lines of perfectly symmetrical trees in the foreground of landscape that was so vivid, it almost appeared as false as an oversized painting in front of us. The back drop was the enormous snow covered Andes, seemingly impossible with the 32 degree sun beating down.
We stopped off at the first winery, a young winery which has only been producing wine for the last 4 years. We got a brief tour of the place, how the wine is made, aged, bottled, labelled and in some cases, aged even further in the bottle. The tasting gave us a chance to sample their younger non aged wines, their semi-aged wines and their premium wines.
Having seen a sign for a vodka distillery, we agreed that it would be stupid not to investigate, even though it had not been on our marked out map. We took a side road, off the beaten track past some vicious dogs until we arrived at what we presumed must be the distillery. The image before us was that of something from a teen horror movie. A massive iron slide door loomed above us. The walls surrounding the distillery were topped with broken glass, presumably to stop intruders climbing them. We knocked on the massive door, letting out a massive metal echo. No reply. So we tried again. A man spoke from the other side of the divide. In Spanish he more or less told us to go away. In Spanish, again, we asked were they closed, the reply was affirmative and with that we switched to English. We told the man that we'd come all the way from England, this time, the reply in English, was much more welcoming; 'Oh, you speak English!' A small square window opened just large enough to see the man's face. He scoped us out for a second and closed the small window and slid back the enormous door. On the other side was a huge courtyard, a small table in the middle that a woman was sitting at with some water and vodka. To the right there was an iron cylinder, horizontally positioned with a fire burning in it, like a bbq set up.
The man, a short stocky bald figure, was Hungarian, from Budapest. He spoke perfect English and once we got chatting to him, he was more than happy to show us around. He took us into his distillery, a massive old warehouse-only encouraging my envisions of the torture movie which I couldn't push out of my mind. His vodka was made from Malbec wine, hence being among all the vineyards. He triple distilled the wine so as to still keep the scent and taste of the grape. We tasted the ice cold vodka, which can't be denied, did have a certain kick of wine to it, an unusual but interesting taste. A certain benefit to making his product unique on the market of average grain vodkas. Before leaving we bought a bottle, which has yet to be drunk but will have a good send off I'm sure.
We remounted our bikes and headed off to another winery. Having already seen how wine was made etc. we decided to sit back and enjoy the wine in local wineries, buying a bottle at each place we stopped. The region mainly produces Malbec, so it was all red wines and roses. Before long, the time came to return the bikes, just as well as by this stage the wine was taking it's toll.
As far as Mendoza goes, there aren't many other activities to take advantage of. Unless we wanted to go trekking, which, from my entire Machu Picchu Inka trekking experience went, I can safely say the idea of trekking will always turn my stomach somewhat.
So we chilled in Mendoza for the next few days by the pool, occasionally walking around the city to sample some Argentine meat for the last time.
On our second day we went down to the vineyards by bus and rented bikes to cycle the 12km round trip in the intense heat. Luckily most of the mid day heat was blocked by the hundreds of trees shading the road. Either side of our path were miles and miles of vineyards, lines and lines of perfectly symmetrical trees in the foreground of landscape that was so vivid, it almost appeared as false as an oversized painting in front of us. The back drop was the enormous snow covered Andes, seemingly impossible with the 32 degree sun beating down.
We stopped off at the first winery, a young winery which has only been producing wine for the last 4 years. We got a brief tour of the place, how the wine is made, aged, bottled, labelled and in some cases, aged even further in the bottle. The tasting gave us a chance to sample their younger non aged wines, their semi-aged wines and their premium wines.
Having seen a sign for a vodka distillery, we agreed that it would be stupid not to investigate, even though it had not been on our marked out map. We took a side road, off the beaten track past some vicious dogs until we arrived at what we presumed must be the distillery. The image before us was that of something from a teen horror movie. A massive iron slide door loomed above us. The walls surrounding the distillery were topped with broken glass, presumably to stop intruders climbing them. We knocked on the massive door, letting out a massive metal echo. No reply. So we tried again. A man spoke from the other side of the divide. In Spanish he more or less told us to go away. In Spanish, again, we asked were they closed, the reply was affirmative and with that we switched to English. We told the man that we'd come all the way from England, this time, the reply in English, was much more welcoming; 'Oh, you speak English!' A small square window opened just large enough to see the man's face. He scoped us out for a second and closed the small window and slid back the enormous door. On the other side was a huge courtyard, a small table in the middle that a woman was sitting at with some water and vodka. To the right there was an iron cylinder, horizontally positioned with a fire burning in it, like a bbq set up.
The man, a short stocky bald figure, was Hungarian, from Budapest. He spoke perfect English and once we got chatting to him, he was more than happy to show us around. He took us into his distillery, a massive old warehouse-only encouraging my envisions of the torture movie which I couldn't push out of my mind. His vodka was made from Malbec wine, hence being among all the vineyards. He triple distilled the wine so as to still keep the scent and taste of the grape. We tasted the ice cold vodka, which can't be denied, did have a certain kick of wine to it, an unusual but interesting taste. A certain benefit to making his product unique on the market of average grain vodkas. Before leaving we bought a bottle, which has yet to be drunk but will have a good send off I'm sure.
We remounted our bikes and headed off to another winery. Having already seen how wine was made etc. we decided to sit back and enjoy the wine in local wineries, buying a bottle at each place we stopped. The region mainly produces Malbec, so it was all red wines and roses. Before long, the time came to return the bikes, just as well as by this stage the wine was taking it's toll.
As far as Mendoza goes, there aren't many other activities to take advantage of. Unless we wanted to go trekking, which, from my entire Machu Picchu Inka trekking experience went, I can safely say the idea of trekking will always turn my stomach somewhat.
So we chilled in Mendoza for the next few days by the pool, occasionally walking around the city to sample some Argentine meat for the last time.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Bueno Buenos Aires
So we pulled up to our hostel in Buenos Aires about 4 in the afternoon, only to see a massive queue for something next door. Everyone in the line was dolled up as if going out, it was bright, sunny and hot...where were they going? Apparently this is a 24 hour club which only opens at the weekends but stays open pretty much all the time. Bizzare, yes.
We wandered down to the Sunday Antique Market later that evening, hundereds of trinkets, retro phones, calculators, cameras, playing cards, books, shoes, vintage clothing, the list is endless, they had EVERYTHING. Really amazing stuff. Wandering through the marketm every 200 yards or so there would be a live jazz band at the side of the street and various people doing the tango in the middle of the street. We came across a restaurant that had actually been recommended to us, so we went in. Steaks the size of our heads arrived at the table, along with bread, fries, mash, red wine. It´s no lie when they say the best steaks in the world are Argentine.
We´ve been in BA for a little over a week now, still wandering the wide Parisian-esque pavements and exploring the scores of vintage shops. BA is the kind of place I´d like to visit, buy a load of furniture and clothes and ship them all back home. There are some amazing finds out here. Altoghether, it´s quite European in comparison to all the other South American cities we´ve been to, quite stylish and everyone walking the streets is beautiful.
The one thing we didn´t find to our tastes was a festival we ventured to on Saturday. REM headlined which was definitely worth our time, especially seen as the tickets were only about 30 quid, Bloc Party and Kaiser Chiefs also played which isn´t really worth recounting but the headline act really made it a great gig. However, to our absolute discust and dismay, there was not a drop of alcohol to be found in the place. AT A FESTIVAL. WHY? I´m still absolutely dumbfounded by the whole thing, it makes absolutely no sense to me. Dan and I questioned this for a good three hours of the evening, at one stage even wanting to find some staff so we could have an explaination for this outrage. Unfortunately we didn´t, and a festival without people walking around with beers, making random mates, dancing to no music, running around with no clothes on and just being generally obnoxious is not really a festival now, is it?
We wandered down to the Sunday Antique Market later that evening, hundereds of trinkets, retro phones, calculators, cameras, playing cards, books, shoes, vintage clothing, the list is endless, they had EVERYTHING. Really amazing stuff. Wandering through the marketm every 200 yards or so there would be a live jazz band at the side of the street and various people doing the tango in the middle of the street. We came across a restaurant that had actually been recommended to us, so we went in. Steaks the size of our heads arrived at the table, along with bread, fries, mash, red wine. It´s no lie when they say the best steaks in the world are Argentine.
We´ve been in BA for a little over a week now, still wandering the wide Parisian-esque pavements and exploring the scores of vintage shops. BA is the kind of place I´d like to visit, buy a load of furniture and clothes and ship them all back home. There are some amazing finds out here. Altoghether, it´s quite European in comparison to all the other South American cities we´ve been to, quite stylish and everyone walking the streets is beautiful.
The one thing we didn´t find to our tastes was a festival we ventured to on Saturday. REM headlined which was definitely worth our time, especially seen as the tickets were only about 30 quid, Bloc Party and Kaiser Chiefs also played which isn´t really worth recounting but the headline act really made it a great gig. However, to our absolute discust and dismay, there was not a drop of alcohol to be found in the place. AT A FESTIVAL. WHY? I´m still absolutely dumbfounded by the whole thing, it makes absolutely no sense to me. Dan and I questioned this for a good three hours of the evening, at one stage even wanting to find some staff so we could have an explaination for this outrage. Unfortunately we didn´t, and a festival without people walking around with beers, making random mates, dancing to no music, running around with no clothes on and just being generally obnoxious is not really a festival now, is it?
Sao Paulo
After a few more days in Rio, we headed down to Sao Paulo to witness the 4th biggest city in the world. On entering Sao Paulo, from the suburbs to the actual centre of the city takes about 2 hours driving, constantly surrounded by skyscrapers. The enormity of the place is difficult to put into words because it´s just off the scale.
Our time in Sao Paulo, albeit shortlived, was excellent. Our quaint little hostel was the first place that we stayed with a bit of a family vibe. The whole place was run by a family and as it was quite small, we soon got to know everyone staying and working there and made friends very quickly.
Our first night out consisted of us going to a ´rock´club. Now, having been to many a ´rock/indie´clubs in London, we were all a bit miffed as to what the actual genre of the music was. On requesting songs, and literally, EVERY song we requested the dj laughed at us. We couldn´t even make out what it was he was playing, all we noticed that there was air guitar being played close by and none of us knew why. The place was interesting though, small enough, outdoor bar full of twenty something emos, alternatives, a few punks and some indies. A small bar outdoors at the back of the club reeked of weed and beer-a common stench in South America.
The next day we wandered the parts of the city we could reach by foot, wandered down the massive Av Paulista ambling into bookshops along the way. Being in a city that huge and it being 32 degrees eventually took it´s toll and we hopped in a cab back to the hostel for another night on the tiles.
This time, taken along to another Rock bar, this time there was a white supremacist screamo band playing upstairs, which although aroused the interest of some of us, I wasn´t hanging around for the encore. Downstairs was a much more disco based affair and we spent the night dancing away till the wee hours. There was even an 87 year old man giving it absolute socks on the dancefloor.
Due to bus times to Argentina we had to leave earlier than we would have liked, also due to the fact that Sao Paulo is quite expensive we decided to move on. We left Sao Paulo about 10.30pm on the friday night and didn´t arrive in Buenos Aires until 4pm on Sunday. This bus journey was, as you can imagine, hellish. I won´t go into details but take my word for it that it was rubbish.
Our time in Sao Paulo, albeit shortlived, was excellent. Our quaint little hostel was the first place that we stayed with a bit of a family vibe. The whole place was run by a family and as it was quite small, we soon got to know everyone staying and working there and made friends very quickly.
Our first night out consisted of us going to a ´rock´club. Now, having been to many a ´rock/indie´clubs in London, we were all a bit miffed as to what the actual genre of the music was. On requesting songs, and literally, EVERY song we requested the dj laughed at us. We couldn´t even make out what it was he was playing, all we noticed that there was air guitar being played close by and none of us knew why. The place was interesting though, small enough, outdoor bar full of twenty something emos, alternatives, a few punks and some indies. A small bar outdoors at the back of the club reeked of weed and beer-a common stench in South America.
The next day we wandered the parts of the city we could reach by foot, wandered down the massive Av Paulista ambling into bookshops along the way. Being in a city that huge and it being 32 degrees eventually took it´s toll and we hopped in a cab back to the hostel for another night on the tiles.
This time, taken along to another Rock bar, this time there was a white supremacist screamo band playing upstairs, which although aroused the interest of some of us, I wasn´t hanging around for the encore. Downstairs was a much more disco based affair and we spent the night dancing away till the wee hours. There was even an 87 year old man giving it absolute socks on the dancefloor.
Due to bus times to Argentina we had to leave earlier than we would have liked, also due to the fact that Sao Paulo is quite expensive we decided to move on. We left Sao Paulo about 10.30pm on the friday night and didn´t arrive in Buenos Aires until 4pm on Sunday. This bus journey was, as you can imagine, hellish. I won´t go into details but take my word for it that it was rubbish.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)