Mendoza (and back to Santiago + Riots)

The last couple of days have been spent relaxing in Argentinian wine (and olive and spirit) country - Mendoza. The winery tour we booked ourselves in for yesterday was actually a tour of a distillery (grappa and mandarin liqueur tasting), and olive grove (for olive grovellers these are the vital stats - 100yr old trees, frantoio and arbequina only in argentina, cold pressing for the boutique ex.v oil and centrifuge for the commerical ex.v. oil, although quality is identical the darker colour of the cold pressed (due to the leaves) is a common myth indicating higher quality, produce a blend of the two varieties, traditional row spacing, trees about 15ft high with a thick trunk and three main branches coming out about 1-2 ft above the ground, all grown from cuttings) plus two winerys - although I was more excited about the grove as you may have guessed.

After almost dying of hunger we walked in town searching for a huge Parilla, which we found and couldn't eat a quarter of, so we doggy bagged it and went home to bed.

We had decided a couple of days ago to try doing some solo travelling (not through any disagreement or falling out), so today I jumped on a bus back to Santiago and Lucas heads to Salta tonight.

I arrived on the street where my hostel is to find that a concert is being held and 2 million Chileans are packing the streets, after some to-ing and fro-ing I managed to squeeze my way to the hostel. Despite Visa refunding the money stolen in Rio (yay!!) I still have no access to cash. Lucas did give me a wad of argentine pesos to see me through until we catch up again, but unfortunately I arrived after the money changers had closed, so I'm without any money until tomorrow.

I'll be off the photographic radar for a little while, but I'll try to keep this page updated.

(The writing of this post was cut short by riots from the above mentioned youths of Santiago. I found myself running through the streets with them dodging police power hoses mounted on trucks and using my t-shirt as a face mask amidst the tear gas. Luckily the riot police - with their batons and shields could tell I was a gringo and let me pass through their marching blockade to my hostel. Definitely got the adrenalin pumping when at first I could only hear screaming and waves of people sprinting away from where I was trying to get to.)