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Mendoza was amazing! After a 10 hour journey over the Andes from Chile, I arrived in the mountain city. I was expecting Mendoza to be a little like Queenstown in New Zealand, but despite being at a higher altitude (800m) you cannot actually see the mountains from the city and it takes about an hours bus ride to get to the actual snowy capped mountains which one envisions at the mention of the Andes. However, thats not to say that it still wasnt an incredible stop-off on my South American journey. My hostel was undoubtly a stark contrast to the unfriendly Andes Hostel in Chile. There were only 4 rooms for a total of around 25 guests. This gave the hostel a bit of a family type feel in that after only a day of being there I knew everyone staying in the hostel and had already made some great friends both backpackers and Argentinians themselves. The night I arrived there, the whole hostel was going moonlight white water rafting and whilst tempted to join them, I felt that nothing could surpass my rafting experience in NZ which is without doubt the home of Adventure Sports. Instead I spent the evening getting to know a few of my fellow backpackers.
My first task for the next day was to actually get some Argentian Pesos. I had arrogantly assumed back in NZ that everyone would take US Dollars in South America. The look of bewilderment when I had procured a wad of dollars to pay for my meal in Santiago had confirmed in my mind that it was probably best to stick to the local currency. Besides, the currency crash a few years ago meant the Argentina was notoriously cheap. Designer clothes, shoes and jeans could be bought for just a few pounds at many of the boutique stores in Buenos Aires or Mendoza and a meal out at a posh restaurant with three courses and a top bottle of wine would cost only 3 pounds! I did a bit of shopping to catch up on bits and bobs I needed in SA and then in the afternoon headed to a museum about the citys history as a colonial outpost in the Andes. The weather was unbelievably hot and was constantly above 30 so I joined the locals in embracing a siesta in the heat of the day. In the evening I went out to a restaurant with some of the people from my hostel and treated myself to my first Argentian steak. I was so full afterwards that I literally had to be rolled back to the hostel.
The next day I went mountain climbing. For some strange reason, ever since I did my Duke of Edinburgh award, I've always loved long walks in the mountains. The Tongariro crossing in NZ was one of my favourites as well as a trek in Switzland when I was 16. The term 'mountain climbing' is deceptive with regards to climbing the Andes. Unless one is a proffessional mountain climber with years of experience and a good few weeks to spare, your not going to be sprinting up the worlds second highest mountain range. There were alot of climbers in Mendoza many of whom had just failed in their attempts to climb the worlds highest mountain outside the Himalyas. Being only weedy backpackers craving just a mere taster of the whole Andes experience, we only climbed some of the smaller, less daunting mountains. Even then, it took 2 hours to get to such a height that we felt even close to the mountains and then 6 hours of trekking to get to an altitude of 3500m (the bus took us to around 2000m). It was spectacular. Condors circled above us and random mountain dogs followed us in the hope that we'd give them our lunch. In fact, one tiny little furball who looked like it could hardly walk let alone climb a mountain put all us hikers to shame by charging up and down the mountain several times although it got a little overconfident when it tried to pick a fight with some of the other bigger mountain dogs twice its size! The highlight of the climb was emerging on a plateau which had a perfect view of the surrounding mountains and provides the base point for the more serious climbers. We had to wait to pick up some of the horse riders and white water rafters after getting off the mountain. Turns out one of the girls who had gone on the horse trek had passed out after being kicked 3 times in the leg by her horse and rushed off to hospital. Everyone else however had had an amazing day, and I managed to get some advice on Brazil and Carnival from some Brazilian girls on my way back to Mendoza.
On getting back to the hostel I headed off to the shopping mall with Sarah, and American friend, Nardia my Argentinian friend and two Argy guys who had just arrived at the hostel. Sarah needed to get some running shorts so whilst she headed of with Nardia the Argentinian blokes gave me an introduction to picking up the ladies - Argentinian style! Pedro, who had the best english was in all honesty, a bit of a sleeze. He had long greasy hair and refused to strut around in anything but a wifebeater (a type of vest). He also had an almost unhealthy obsession with all things english as lapped up anything I said with doglike devotion. His 'pickup style' consisted of whistling loudly whilst giving the women in question an even sleezier look than I'd thought could be possible. After his sixth attempt, which nearly resulted in a well deserved slap, I suggested that maybe his technique wasnt quite working and that perhaps he should try a different way of meeting girls. I was quickly met with a defensive cry that whistling was an Argentinian way of respecting a womens beauty, a further probe revealed Pedro had been single for least three years suggesting that this part of his countrys heritage wasnt quite working wonders for him!
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