We had our first dodgy moment of the trip today. After a quiet morning of dropping off washing and buying more suncream (me), and doing maths homework (Jemima and Kevin), it was time to head off for our major Cafayate event: a vineyard visit.
There are no Ubers here, so the hotel called us a taxi. We stood in the entrance waiting, and when a car pulled up, we got in.
Things seemed normal at first. Ok, he wasn’t as friendly as usual in response to my bad Spanish taxi chat (“it’s hot today!” Or “will it rain tomorrow?” - Kevin and Jemima tease me that it’s always about the weather, but I’m English, what else would it be…). And yes, both he and the car seemed a bit more run down than usual. But we were in the countryside!
But then, after only a few minutes, he suddenly started shouting, “pincho la goma, pincho la goma!”. He pulled over, very agitated, and with the help of Google Translate (this was beyond me), we worked out he was saying he had a puncture. This seemed surprising, but he’d stopped at a taxi rank so we got out as he seemed to be requesting, and transferred into another taxi.
But as he drove off, it was clear he had no puncture. And we realised his car was also not only missing an accreditation card in the window, but also - more obviously, in hindsight - the “taxi” sign on top. And he’d only become agitated when we ended up driving behind a police car…
Kevin said later we’d either avoided death, robbery or being ripped off - but I’m pretty sure the worst that would have happened is being ripped off. But a good lesson for the future!
Our genuine taxi driver was lovely, and he and I had successful taxi chat all the way to our destination (in this context I understand only about 30% of what people say, but can generally guess the gaps - it makes for a pleasant journey…).
We were heading to Piattelli Vineyard, about 20 minutes out of town - and you could tell when we arrived. First, a security man on the gate ticking you off his list. Second, beautiful landscaped gardens up ahead. And third, fields and fields of well-kept vines all around, shining lush green in the bright sun.
The place was stunning. It turns out a copier magnate from Minnesota got into Argentinian wine after he sold his business, and this was his second vineyard, after his first, in Mendoza (the Argentinian wine capital, about 13 hours drive south), was a success.
He and his wife of 50+ years built it as a vineyard and adults-only hotel so that couples could spend time together. (He also named a wine after her for their 50th anniversary! Too cute.) You could see how much they’d invested in it - gorgeous gardens with olive trees, roses, and lavender as well as more South American looking plants, plus a large, handsome red stone building.
We’d come for a tour, wine-tasting, and lunch. The tour was brief but interesting, seeing the immaculate equipment eg giant metal vats, or a temperature- and humidity-controlled room for the barrels. And then the tasting was fun - they specialise in a white grape, Torrentes, in this area, which is delicious; and their red wines were lovely. (I am no oenophile - my response is a pretty unsophisticated “yes I like it”, or “I’m not so keen”, but, as Kevin said, it can be a bit like modern art - you know what you like, and that’s ok).
Jemima hadn’t been allowed in the tasting room, MUCH to her annoyance, so after we were done we collected her and retired for lunch. A gorgeous terrace with spectacular views, this was the main draw. We chose the 3 course set menu with wine pairing: more empanadas (I can’t get enough!); pork rib; then a flan. All very well done, with a view of blue sky above green mountains topped with fluffy clouds ringing the vineyards, and in the foreground the beautiful gardens with birds flitting about, including, excitingly, a neon green humming bird drinking from a flowering bush right in front of us like a little jewel.
Absolutely sated, we took a (safe) taxi back to an afternoon of blog-writing for me, and her weekly update for school for Jemima, in the shady hotel courtyard. Washing collected, Kevin headed out for a wander, and returned full of excitement - things were happening in Cafayate!
It turned out the following 3 days were a big folkloric festival, and this was the warm-up: crowds were on the streets being talked through murals local artists had done on the walls of the stadium where the event was to be held. (We popped our heads in - massive stage, lighting, banked seating - it was going to be huge.)
Then in the main town square there was all sorts of fun: a parade led by a devil, accompanied by skeletons, followed by people wearing giant headdresses, blowing whistles and banging drums. The candyfloss man was out, as were clowns and uncyclists, all with appreciative audiences.
The best though was a man with a dog puppet, who was so good, the dog seemed alive - it could move its ears, eyes and tongue, had the movements of a dog (lying down, sniffing things), and could even lift its leg and wee. The best moment was when it had a stand off with a real dog, a little poodle-sized thing (similar size), who was so confused - it was hilarious. He was so good we came back to watch him until he packed up for the night. And then, finally, so did we - leaving a still heaving town centre. The road trip continues tomorrow…
Laundry trip into Cafayate (a bag front, back, left and right):
Our car in front of the hotel:
Jemima loving doing her maths homework:
Piattelli Vineyard:
Jemima waiting patiently:
Lunch with a view:
Pre-festival fun in Cafayate:
The artist explaining her mural:
Market at sunset:
Stuffed tortillas for sale:
The parade:
The dog puppet:
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