Wine Tasting Tour

We were in Mendoza, Argentina. The book says it is a crime to visit Mendoza and not visit a vineyard... or three. So I put on my red lipstick and Zac took off his ballcap and we got on the bus.

It was full of loud Argentines from Buenos Aires (porteños) and two Chilean couples, one of which consisted of an elderly man with a cane and his wife. When they boarded, our bus driver proudly told the wife that after three glasses of real (read: Argentine) wine, her husband wouldn't need his cane anymore.

The wine tasting tour actually began at an olive oil factory where we learned that olives grow on trees and sampled various flavors of olive oil on bread with the purpose, our tour guide had informed us before letting us off the bus, of putting something in our bellies to soak up all the wine we were about to ingest. To hear her tell it, we were on the drunk bus of wine tours. We really didn't do that much tasting. I was disappointed. Zac was not.

To be fair, Zac tried every single glass of wine we were poured. And that's after a bumpy, loud, starting-and-stopping, initial forty-five minute bus ride. (Though he claims he should get credit for far longer.) I have before and after pictures:

We almost made a friend at the olive oil factory. One particularly loud, large porteño was eager to make us feel at home...at least, he was until he found out that Alaska isn't in Canada and we don't speak French. He stopped speaking to us after that.

Even though we're not from Canada, and not quick thinking enough to pretend to be, the wine tour was a success.

That last one is a prime example of Zac's "now go stand over there and look happy" face. Doesn't he, though??

In order to afford the wine tour, we spent a lot of time hanging out in Mendoza's (beautiful, enormous) city park and eating empanadas from the bakery. All in all, not much of a sacrifice.