Veni, Vidi, Vindimia!

Nearly a month ago, Emily and I resolved to make it as far north as Mendoza for the city's annual celebration of the wine harvest. Held the first weekend in March, Vindimia is an unrivaled spectacle of vino, consisting of parades and music and dance extravaganzas, and culminating with the election of a beauty queen from among the ranks of the city's rival districts.

Normally we're pretty lax about scheduling, but in this case our planning paid off. We stepped off the bus on Saturday morning and into the throng of Carrusel, a procession of floats, marching bands, and sequined dancers. From the beauty queens throwing fresh (and often heavy) produce to the throngs below, to the gauchos who struggled mightily to coax their horses across the grates in the street, there was a great deal of excitement to observe.

Mendoza is Argentina's wine capital, and as such, it's a major port of call both for oenephiles and dilettantes who dig free tastings. The two of us fall squarely into the latter category, so we decided to spend our Monday in Maipu--the satellite town where the bodegas are most densely clustered. While waiting for the bus to bring us there, a slick salesman sidled up next to us and told us about a bike rental place in central Maipu. He explained that the evil cartel of "Bikes and Wines" was run out of Mendoza, while the mom-and-pop operation he was helping--unimaginatively called "Rental Bikes"--was a local operation. This was our first indication that a battle for the hearts and minds of malbec-guzzling bike renters was being waged in wine country.

Unsure with whom to pledge our allegiance, Emily and I decided to walk to the first bodega. Nicknamed "La Rural", San Felipe is a vineyard that churns out the usual batch of malbecs and syrahs, while also housing a museum dedicated to winemaking. After admiring some 16th-century cowskins used for mashing grapes and marvelling at rich U.S. buyers who dumped half-glasses of $80 peso wine into the communal jug, we decided to move on.

Fortunately, we weren't long before meeting a very friendly couple from Buenos Aires who were driving from bodega to bodega. The "Bikes and Wines" vs. "Rental Bikes" debate had been settled for us. We sat in their backseat while they navigated between wineries, and quickly discovered that being chauffered between cool cellars was far superior to pedalling under a scorching sun. Plus, we were able to drink about three times more red wine than would have otherwise been possible.

We tried to duplicate the magic the next day, but failed miserably. Two of the three bodegas we visited charged money for tours and tastings, and a fourth turned out not to exsist at all. Now that Vindimia's over and most of the major bodegas are under our belts, Emily and I have been using our time to stroll around Mendoza's wide, shady streets, hang out in its spacious parks, and explore its smattering of sites, including an anthropology museum, an aquarium, and even a greenhouse housing deadly snakes and spiders. We can't quite bring ourselves to trudge out to the bus station and buy our next pair of tickets--things in Mendoza are laid-back, friendly, and addictively relaxing. -NSH