We Were Never Supposed to Get Here

Tired, cold and ready for some sunlight, Amanda and gradually worked our way north from the bottom of the world Patagonia up to Buenos Aires. Our first stop past the Argentinian border was San Carlos de Bariloche - a touristy ski-village littered with shops selling either North Face fleeces or famous chocolate bon bons. The city was quaint, the people were friendly, but we were still cold. After a day of wandering the streets and enjoying a delectable salmon dinner and our first (of what was to become many) bottles of Malbec wine to honor our 6 month travel anniversary, we once again packed our bags and headed the 20 hours north to Mendoza.

Mendoza is known across the globe for its viticulture, produces 70% of Argentinian wine, and is especially known for its Malbec - an almost violet in color, intense vino tinto, red wine. With Malbec being the key to Amanda's heart and with my recent conversion from a white to a red drinker, it was simply out of the question not to go to the vino tinto capital of the world.

The city of Mendoza is clean, pretty and the streets are covered not by chocolate shoppes but rather with wine paraphernalia. Yet it is not the busy streets and cars that attract visitors to the region, but the hundreds of wineries that are found just half an hour outside the city limits in the beautiful spacious lowlands. Having cut our time in Buenos Aires short simply to do the highly recommended famous bicycling wine tour, we were eager to get started. Amanda and I woke up early to fit a run into our schedule before an afternoon of samplings, day-drinking and picnics. Yet as we met our new friends out front to catch the city bus to the wine town of Lujan de Cuyo, we were informed that it was Good Friday. And when in Argentina, Good Friday is more than celebrated.

It is revered. The entire city was closed down for the day. So...back to the drawing board. After 6 months of learning to dejar con fluya - go with the flow, we switched gears, bought cheese, crackers, salami, fruits, olives, guacamole (surprisingly not the girl from NM's idea), and of course Malbec and headed to the central park for an afternoon picnic and some time in the sun.

But although the picnic of Malbec was delectable, and although this was later followed by more Malbec at dinner, Amanda and I still did not feel like we had experienced the true Mendoza. And we had already bought our ticket for Buenos Aires for the following evening at 5:15 p.m. There was only one thing to do - get up extra early and fit it all in by 5 p.m. We gathered the troops, brought our breakfasts with us on the bus, and headed to the vineyards. We managed to visit 3 wineries: Terrazas, Miguel Minni, and Bonefanti, complete with tastings, bottles of wine, and no bike crashes. And we even made it to our bus in relatively good form. Success.

Just 1 bus and 20 hours later we were in Buenos Aires - the Paris of Latin America. Yet as we fell off the coach bus dazed from spotty sleep, I was not filled with the excitement and eagerness I thought I would have to see the one place I had dreamed about for months. Instead I was sad.

In October, when Amanda and I sat in our host family's kitchen in Panama and consulted our finances and a calendar we dreamed of making our trip last, if we were lucky and smart, 3 months. Maybe we could see Machu Picchu if we were frugal enough. Buenos Aires was on the top of my list of Things To Do, but it looked doubtful that we would be able to make it there with our budget.

And now here we are, over 6 months later, in the city we were never supposed to get to. Among the fast paced city of lights, ancient architecture and a modern hip vibe were two gringas confused that the end of an epic journey has finally arrived. As they say, all good things must come to an end. But when that good thing has been an entire way of life, a state of mind, and a friendship that has evolved to an intense kinship, how do you cope with the finish line?