As I read in a guidebook, Mendoza would be nothing without the trees, and it's true. Someone somewhere had the bright idea of planting a gijillion trees throughout the city, and it transforms a so-so town into something alltogether different. As is our custom, we ignored all things cultural in favour of expensive eateries and shops with shiny things. One restaurant was so expensive I had to leave when the bill came, walk back to the hotel, stuff my pockets with more pesos, then walk briskly back to a worried looking Maria. It was all of 20 quid, twice the price we had paid so far!
The area is a wine producing region, but we didn't drink a drop. Knocked-up Mrs stuck firmly to orange juice (typical Chilean, disgusted if less than 5 fresh juices to choose from on the menu - "they might have wine, but where are their juices?"), pasta and fish. We both ignored the veal tongue and other things that could only be translated as 'innards'.
The highlight of the journey back was Gate One at the airport. Diminutive Chilean found small expensive things in the Duty Free, while I watched a group of US tourists become increasingly worried that they'd missed their plane. Despite the gate not being open yet, and it being a good hour before the plane was due to depart, and all the other passengers not moving an inch, said group were visibly alarmed everytime there was an announcement that mentioned flight 933. Every time the speakers issued something the group would charge off down the tunnel like a brass band in a cul-de-sac, only to re-appear minutes later being ushered back to the waiting room by somebody in a yellow bib.
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