All the wine and food in northern Argentina

After the recent flurry of traveller productivity, we’re now in Argentina, and I must confess, being rather decadent. We’re both loving the country, not to mention its wines, meats, and (particularly after Chile) prices.

Our bus from San Pedro left us, in the middle of the night, in the city of Salta, which by day turned out to be windy and busy and, apparently, obsessed with shopping.

But our hotel was lovely (and by the by, had a great shower, which was godsent after some of the shower nightmares I’ve had, and in an even more incredible stroke of miraculousness, it’s turning into something of a trend here), and we took it easy, spending a lot of time trying to fix the website or grappling with the Argentine postal service (or watching while Rich did these things, then trying to calm him down), but eating a lot of food in between.

Including one divine meal which began with complimentary glasses of champagne (flashy but always welcome), followed by possibly the most perfect steak I have ever eaten, and to conclude, my dessert arrived floating in a bowl of champagne. Flashy, but still welcome. Oh, and the wine was very good too. And all for about £12. So, Rich and I are moving to Argentina, please await forwarding address.

We had to leave the restaurant sometime, so spent the rest of our time on touristy things like cable cars and ridiculously long walks down the hill again afterwards. Great views of the city, but no one warned us it was that far. But probably a good thing, to work off the foie gras from the night before.

Then we headed south to Cafayate, a nice rural town surrounded by vineyards. I really thought it was on the gringo trail (as places that are praised in guidebooks usually turn out to be), though after being asked where we’re from by everyone from waiters to bums in the plaza, I’m starting to wonder if we’re unusual.

Nevertheless, people are being excessively friendly – cheerful and talkative, and only about half the time are they actually trying to sell us something. So again, we’ve been soaking it in, and eating lots, and yes, drinking lots, but we don’t really have much choice in my opinion.

This morning a random friendly stranger drove us to a bodega and left us there, so naturally we were compelled to accept the guided tour, and proceeded to stare at vast vats of wine while nodding to the stream of friendly Spanish (which paused at one point as our guide asked whether we understood a word of what she was saying – we laughed, which of course was the admission that no, we didn’t. I’d like to think my Spanish is improving, but lots of technical grape terms can be a problem).

Still, all was well as we tasted a few glasses of wine, bought a bottle of the local Torrontes out of guilt and obligation (but curiosity too as it’s only made in this area), then went on to wander around the town’s wine museum and pretend to understand all the grape terms there. And then, as you do, we went to an ice cream shop and ordered one scoop of the Torrontes and one scoop of the Cabernet. It had to be done, of course, but to be honest it was not very nice. In retrospect that should not have been a surprise.

But I think all the wine can be forgiven as it is absolutely freezing here; something I expected at altitude and down south, but not here, in the broad sunshine, in August. It snowed yesterday! We stood in the street and stared at it, unable to believe it, and unsure why no one else seemed shocked.

Sadly no snow-covered plazas this morning, and not even any good photos of snowflakes, but we know it happened, and I’m just desperate for it to start getting warmer now. I’m running out of room in my backpack for cheap alpaca hats.