Having had this experience something told me that it was time to make a radical change and so I went with my gut. If I was going to have a good time I had to be more active and go for it myself. It was from this logic that I made the decision that I would travel alone to Mendoza.
A series of fatal events took place leading up to this which would shape the remainder of my time here. At the Universidad de Buenos AIres Facultad de Filosofia y Letras, I thought I had settled my class schedule finally with a class on Latin American Revolutions. One night, waiting in the fotocopiadora (photo copy room), I realized that I would be waiting forever, so I made the decision to go have a little drink and meet some of the natives rather than just wait for photo copies. So I gathered up my courage, went to this little hole in the wall bar near the University and ordered a liter of beer and some empanadas. I struck up a conversation with some of the people in the place who turned out to be really cool and patient with my Spanish. One of the guys there coincidentally happened to be from Mendoza and also a plumber (my dad is a plumber)and shaped my trip by telling me I had to go to San Rafael. I had an odd sense that these sequence of events were just kind of laying themselves down in front of me and I was steering on a predestined path. I was becoming a subscriber to the very hackneyed and cliche idea that everything happens for a reason.
"All this life is but a play
Be thou the joyful player"
I continued to talk and drink with this random group of guys and had really lost track of time and of how much I was drinking. But, it was all part of a play whose conclusion would reveal itself in a short while in grand fashion. So I dragged myself back to the fotocopiadora, just as it was about to close, got the stuff I needed and then began the journey back home on the colectivo.
Afraid that taking a picture of my host mother would release some kind of evilness into the world and possibly enchant my camera, I can only provide you with a rendering of her approximate appearance. Imagine opening the door and being welcomed home by this...
Terrifying, right? In all seriousness, I apparently had spooked my host mom(as you all know I am a very scary and intimidating person), when I came in slightly intoxicated. She was conveniently standing right by the door, chatting on the phone, when I came in. In typical fashion the lady completely overreacted and decided to use this moment as a pretext to lay down the law. Thinking that she could make an example out of this situation, she attempted to resolve this perceived problem by sending in reinforcements. The next morning I had an unexpected and unwelcomed visit from the father into my room. He basically busted into my room and tried to physically intimidate me, a tactic which he often used on his own children. I however was not his child, and rather than feel intimidated, I lost trust, realizing that a breach had occurred here in an attempt to get me in line. After this incident I just felt really awkward being around the parents.
As I prepared to go Mendoza, I was at first was thinking that maybe I was wrong and that I should try to fix this situation. However, as you'll see reader, I had a moment of clarity in San Rafael, which quickly reminded me that this was exactly what the family wanted me to think.
But first, my trip to Mendoza.
So i get on the bus in a sort of bad mood - I had really made the decision to come to Mendoza on the spur of the moment. My original intention was to go to Cordoba, but I decided I was in the mood to go out into nature, have some sweet berry wine, and just kind of chill out. So I got on the bus or Micro as they call them and was riding in style. I won a bottle of wine on the bus by playing bingo - great start to the trip. This is an Andesmar tradition apparently, and I was pretty amped, this was my lucky trip. The trip was 14 hours of bus, but really wasn't that bad. I got out of the bus that next morning greeted by a much chillier climate, and a very relaxed environment. It was a very necessary break from the constant turmoil in the city, I said some time to relax and enjoy the views.
Eager to do something on my first day, I sought out a travel agency and got put on a wine tour that afternoon. It was cool, but I kind of felt out of place with a bunch of like 40 year old couples and retired old ladies who looked at me, with the question on their minds what the hell is this 21 year old guy from New Jersey doing here.
I decided that the next day I would be heading out for a short trip to San Rafael the second biggest city in the province of Mendoza. From what the mystical plumber man had told me it was extremely worth it to come here because of the awesome scenery. So I went for it, and wasn't let down...
San Rafael was really great. Aside from the town which was a super tourist trap reminiscent of the town of Niagra Falls. However, the surrounding environment and its views were awesome. I went on a tour and our group had a strange chemistry which you don't normally have with a bunch of complete strangers. This great lady who sort of knew English took an interest in me and we began talking. It's strange how a certain of group of people will get on well and open up to each other while another group will remain stiff. Often this is the deciding factor in whether a class is good or not, whether things loosen up and people start to kind of reach out to one another. It makes it much more pleasant to pass time to if you have some level of familiarity or rapport, what they call buena onda here. People who can open up a group like this are pretty rare and are appreciated.
It was with this group that I had a tour of the area and especially Los Reyunos. This was supposed to be my last day so I was very happy that this was an awesome day and the view was very emotional - it put a lot of things in perspective for me.
It was during this that we had the option to do some activities, one was "hacer bungie" and the other was some boat thing. The lady of probably about 60 years old next to me was the lone volunteer for the bungee thing and everyone on the thing convinced me to do it, by talking about "la juventud" and I submitted against my better judgment. I was thinking it was one of the things where you jump off of a cliff like 1000 feet straight down and was like, oh shit, what am I getting myself into. It turned out to be pretty lame, you just kind of soared across the water to another rocky area. When I came back people were impressed by my stoicism and we all began chatting over some coffee and mate. When one woman asked me a question about my host family and I had a break through moment. She simply asked "te tratan bien?" (do they treat you well?) and I thought to myself, no not really. What am I doing stuck in this bad situation. I'm leaving. And so I did, when I came back within one day I would change out of my living situation.
I was extremely satisfied with my day in San Rafael, and wanted to see more, there was a problem however, because my ticket was scheduled to leave for the next morning from Mendoza. I decided that even if I couldn't change my ticket I was happy and had a good day. However, I wanted more. I came to learn that if I could change my ticket to leave from San Rafael on a later day than I could have another full day in San Rafael. And so begins my hatred and frustration with Andesmar. Trying to change my ticket with them was an impossible task. I had purchased the ticket online and for some reason the people at the bus station said that they couldn't do anything for this reason. I persisted to no avail, tried calling about 100 different customer service numbers, nothing worked. I scheduled another excursion for the next morning figuring that I would eat about 100 dollars if need be to stay for a little longer. But as it turned out, the tour guide must have been been feeling especially generous because they helped me change the ticket and everything was good. It was a real pain in the ass though leading up to this and really needless aggravation. So this day I would be seeing Canon el Atuel y Valle Grande - as recommended by the lady I had met the day before. It was also really great, but our group didn't have the same dynamic unfortunately.
On the way back to Buenos Aires, I had to settle for a Semi-Cama bus back, aka, cheaper and without all the bells and whistles of the seat I had on my trip there, when I had a full bed. I wouldn't be winning any more bottles of wine unfortunately. I found myself sitting next to a Bolivian woman and saw this as a grand opportunity to work on my Spanish and make a new friend. She was a great lady and had it very tough off as I imagine most Bolivians who come to Argentina do. She had been in Mendoza for a completely different reason from mine, because there was work and fruit to be picked. She was heading to Buenos Aires with no idea of whether there would be any work or anywhere to stay. Unfortunately, I'm sure this wasn't a unique position but it was sad and I felt the frivolity of what I was doing in comparison to this woman who was struggling to get by.
We came from different worlds, and yet were able to connect in some minor way. When we exchanged information at the end of the trip I didn't ever expect to hear from her again as usually is the case when you exchange information on a trip. However, wouldn't you know it, she sent me a text message about a week after our shared trip. Hola Christian, Espero que seas bien... etc. I decided for a period to introduce myself as Christian to everyone to avoid the impossibility for Spanish speakers of pronouncing "Zack". I responded to the text reciprocating her good feelings, but realized in the back of my mind that I could never have a normal friendship with this woman without the radical difference in our respective situations coloring any interaction in the outside world. In other words, the class divide between us became very apparent and there was something in the back of my mind saying - "well that's impossible". Just as I don't hang out with the yuppies or trust fund babies at my college, I wouldn't hang out with this poor woman. Just as the trust fund kids can somehow pick up my scent as a middle class kid, and therefore will never accept me, I picked up this woman's scent and feel bad to this moment that I let this jade my perspective on the situation. It was an unwritten societal demand which I was subconsciously feeling. Let's just say that I had decided to hang out with this lady and out of the goodness of my heart decided to be charitable - maybe she wasn't even looking for charity and I was just making a crazy assumption. The ghost of class would still exist and this reality could never be broken. It is like someone doing a ton of charity work because they have the time and are sufficiently well off. Many times these people, although doing a very nice service, can never interact with the people they are trying to help, and their service while noble, often remains at arms length, not fully trusted or accepted. Outside of the confines of a forced social situation (the bus, charity) in other words I had the cynical feeling that I was an economic opportunity to this nice woman who was trying to make a living.
Here are some photos of Valle Grande, it was really great...
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| May 14, 2011 |
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| Mendoza |
knowing you, you probably got trashed off of one glass of wine and then puked all over the floor, but you apologized so it was all cool afterwards
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