First impressions of Mendoza.

I’d wanted to visit Mendoza ever since my first trip to Argentina over ten years ago. Then, there wasn’t time.

I had also hoped to visit Mendoza when I was in Buenos Aires last year, but I couldn’t seem to fit it in. This time I finally made the time. It was worth the wait.

I arrived late Friday night on a flight from Buenos Aires. Having checked no bags, I was one of the first out of the airport and quickly found an Uber to take me into the city. Sole met me at the Airbnb and showed me the rooms, explaining how the heating worked and also what to do when I checked out. The refrigerator was stocked with sundries and a bottle of wine was left on the table. I thanked her for her help. She told me to text her with any questions.

The next morning I met my driver at 07:30. I had booked a full day horseback riding trip in the mountains and while I had hoped that we might be leaving a little later in the day, the rendezvous time they sent was earlier than the event page had listed. I figured I’d sleep in the car.

The driver told me the owner of the estancia would meet us and we’d go together. I was the only person who had booked for the day and so it’d be a private tour. I said I was in no rush, though I considered asking him if I could wait in the car so that I could start napping as soon as possible. The driver texted the owner.

After waiting 15 minutes the driver called. No one answered. It’s strange, he said. He’s never been late before. After 30 minutes he started to wonder if I wanted to schedule something else for the day. I started reaching out to restaurants and wineries to see if they had any last minute cancelations or space for one. After almost an hour he told me that we’d have to cancel and that I’d get a refund. He didn’t know where the owner was and without him there’d be no guide. I thanked him and took the lift back to my apartment. I reached out to some more restaurants and wineries but everything was booked.

After I had exhausted the list of places I wanted to try I decided to spend the afternoon walking around the city. I’d booked a tour to the Uco Valley for the next day and realized that this would be the only time I had to see the city itself. I rearranged myself and stepped back out into the streets.

The apartment sat half a block up from the Plaza España, one of four plazas that marked the corners of the city center. In the middle, the larger Plaza Independencia boasted a large fountain and space for plenty of activities. A stage was being set up as I passed, but I didn’t linger to discover what performances were planned.

Past the Plaza Independencia I walked west towards Parque General San Martin, along a street lined with bars and restaurants. Passing the corner of Avenida Belgrano and Sarmiento I took note of the ice cream parlors sitting catty corner to each other. I’d later learn they were once owned by the same family, but a disagreement lead them to part ways. Choosing one over the other was like choosing a favorite futbol team; once you chose you stuck with it.

In the park I walked to the Fountain of the Continents. A number of stalls had been set up along one of the paths and I casually looked over the items on display. A radio blasted “Despacito” nearby. One of the shopkeepers played along on his ukelele.

From the fountain I walked to the lake. A man was kayaking its length in a professional-looking kayak. From the northern end I checked my phone to see how long it might take to walk to the Monument to the Army of the Andes; it was longer than I felt like walking.

I followed the length of the lake and then turned back towards the town. Franny had sent me a text message asking for a photo of a statue of San Martin. A quick Google Maps search located a square not far from my apartment.

As I made my way back east, I stopped by Famiglia Perrin for ice cream. I had made my choice, though I wouldn’t return; it was the only ice cream shop I would visit on my week in Mendoza.

At the Plaza San Martin I took a photo of the statue and sent it to Franny. She laughed. She had meant the Monument to the Army of the Andes, which memorializes the crossing of the Andes by General José de San Martín and his army to liberate Chile and Peru and ensure the independence of the United Provinces of the Río de la Plata.

I told her she’d have to wait for that. I was headed home to take a nap and prepare for my all day wine tour of the Uco Valley. Thankfully, the pickup time was a much more manageable 08:30. 🇦🇷