One of the perks of being a journalist in Argentine wine country is that you get to try a lot of different and great wine, but that brings a snag too. People can be pretty judgemental about your comments when wine tasting, and even more so when you are a ‘writer’ – they either expect you to know everything, or assume you know absolutely nothing, and either way it sometimes feels as though they are waiting for the first words you utter out of your wine soaked lips to verify their assumption.

Of course it doesn’t help that you are often tasting a wine with the winemaker or winery owner, who are not only experts on that particular wine but also quite defensive. I imagine it must be a similar uncomfortable feeling for new teachers as they sit face to face with a pair of protective parents during a parents’ evening at school.

I think the best advice I have ever received about wine tasting is (in politer terms) ‘sod it!’ Just enjoy the tasting, give your honest opinion if you have one and always remember that there is no-one’s opinion more important than that of the lowly consumer – at the end of the day, the person who pays the pennies to buy a bottle of wine is who the winemakers should aim to impress.

I love doing wine tasting with a group of friends because it is always so fun to see how different people can describe a wine in so many different ways: some will give you all the elaborate fruit descriptors in the world (honey infused vanilla pod crème brulee), others will tell you about the acidity and alcohol content (yawn!) and some will come up with the most amusing descriptors which is all you will even remember at the end of the night (It’s the same funky smell in my grandma’s loft!)

I’ve been to sommelier classes and wine courses and they do help in giving you more confidence in understanding what goes into winemaking, but the good news is that the best practice and way to learn how to taste wine is to taste lots of it. Some people are born with incredible palates where they can remember wines from 10 years ago, but others are not. If you want to look back on a wine you tasted a long time ago, keep jotting notes down – but remember wines change, as does your tongue.

I recently went to Cahors, France, the original land of Malbec, and had some really eye opening wine tasting experiences. I tried barrel samples of the same wines from different cooperages; samples of the same wines but harvested with one week’s difference in harvest times; and samples of grapes taken from a terroir two meters apart – they were all interesting, learning experiences. However the one I learnt the most from came at 10am on my first morning.

Thinking I was going in to a small wine tasting, I sat down to about 70 Malbecs (and forgot to have breakfast that morning)… My friend who I had convinced to come along with me on this fun wine tasting trip to seek out handsome French wine makers and try and get ourselves invited to their romantic French chateaus, was frankly appalled at the idea of sitting inside for four hours on a sunny Summer’s morning to spit out a few dozen wines. So she went off in search of coffee, pastries and a sun drenched bench somewhere with her book. I thought that at around number 17 I would want to join her… but actually after the first couple of wines, I really got into it and enjoyed trying each wine up until the very last one, despite having to spit them all out. I think my big black grin at the end proved it!

There is a clear moment when something you enjoy changes into something that you want to do for the rest of your life. In fact I think the moment I decided that my love of wine tasting went more from enjoying the odd tipple, to somewhat boring professionalism, was when I had the discussion with my dentist that drinking wine was more important to me than pearly whites (yes I am British, so I probably would never have had ‘pearly’ white anyway…)

“You live here? Why?” is the most frequent salutation from any Argentines I meet. With shock and disbelief, locals wonder why any European would leave the greener grass the other side of the Atlantics and actually choose to reside in a country with villas (slums), cowboy politicians and out-of-this-world inflation.

The simple fact is that Argentina is a great country, and their second question demonstrates why: “But don’t you miss or love your family?”

Always instantly feeling like an inhumane, cold and uptight Brit at this question I respond with red cheeks burning, explaining that yes, I do miss and love my family but I want to travel and experience different countries and cultures while I am still young and can (and probably when I am much older too – but their big surprised eyes always steer me away from furthering their disappointment in my life choices.)

The concept of travelling is understood but not widely admired here in Argentina. Whereas everyone at home was rather more of the “good for you” mentality, here the sentiment is that I am rather queer and I guess they assume I did something bad in England.

People here are very tied to their land, which is ironic as they are mostly all second or third generation European immigrants. But it isn’t hard to see why none of them want to leave this colossal country:

Argentina has some of the most exciting and beautiful landscapes ranging from hot and sweaty tropical jungles in the north east with colourful birds and monkeys, and terrific heart wavering waterfalls; to the winter wonderland in the far South with its creaking glaciers, crystal blue waters and snow-capped mountains hovering over deep green pine forests. And in between you can visit penguins and whales on the coast, llamas and salt flats in the northern desert territories, alligators and massive guinea pigs in the wetlands, and of course cowboy country and breath-taking Andes landscapes in the West.

The diversity is quite outstanding and the views even more so. This is a huge advantage to Argentina for me – there is so much to explore within one country and infinite space and clean air in-between.

The other thing that’s great about Argentine landscapes is that you can actually enjoy them because it is usually sunny! In fact, much more than just usually – but normally! Mendoza’s 350 days of sunshine a year is normal here!!! As my excessive exclamation marks demonstrate, this is obviously a big draw for someone weather weary (like my poor Wimbledon-soaked self), and a big enough reason to want to live here. Don’t underestimate the importance of the sun – not just for your mental health, Vitamin D and happy hormones, but more importantly you can make plans and actually keep them! It almost never rains on BBQ day.

This sun factor could lead to the third great thing about Argentina – the people. Maybe it’s a bit of a longshot to say the sun is the reason for Argentinean’s warmth – it’s more likely that you can attribute it to their festive Latin roots and laissez faire attitude – but for whatever reason, within 10 minutes of meeting your first Argentine you are most likely to be invited to meet all the family and come over for a BBQ. And unlike in Brazil, they will actually follow through.

Sharing is a key element in the culture here – it’s all for one, one for all. Expect to have every drink, food and clothes item passed your way, and expect to do the same in return. Although the first time you have your glass of wine taken from your lips to pass around the room comes as a bit of a surprise, you soon get used to it and not having enough glassware is never an awkward problem at a dinner party. It’s the Argentinean way, and it’s rather charming.

Perhaps it takes a pair of foreign eyes to recognise all these qualities – but Argentina is really something special.

That all said, politically Argentina is still a complete shambles, to do anything legitimately appears to be a crime here and financially it’s a nightmare to try and live in (with the price of most items practically a different price between the time you enter and exit the shop). But every nation needs something to complain about, and with almost perfect weather, what else would they moan about?

Most cosechadores are from northern Argentina or illegal workers from Bolivia and they just about make a living travelling around doing fruit and vegetable harvests of different seasons.

Here is my ‘a day in the life of a grape picker’ compiled through interviews with grape pickers, vineyard managers, winery owners, other associated professionals and a rather feeble day of grape picking in last year’s harvest. A hard, but honest day’s work.

6.58am

In a squalid, run down rented house in Lujan de Cuyo there is a musty smell of stale sweat as 17 grape pickers sleep precariously in four shambolic rooms. Some lie on mattresses, others on floor mats and three in hammocks erected in the corners. Squeezed in together, sleeping head to toe, this band of grape pickers will live in this delapidated house as they see out the season (February to May) picking in the vineyards.
The travelling group come from a small village in Southern Bolivia and have been picking in Mendoza for 8 years, which they combine with picking different fruit and vegetable harvests during the rest of the year in Argentina. They keep together, knowing that as 17 experienced black market pickers they have more power as a group than individually. Aucapoma (who uses a more ‘Spanish’ name, Marcelo, in the vineyard) is the group ringleader and constantly reminds them of their collective power – grape pickers could hold a vineyard owner to ransom if they strike for better payment the morning of a pick. Harvest time is precious and many vineyard owners might just agree to pay. But Marcelo and the others know that cosechadores are one a penny. And this year four of them have been asked to do the prestigious night pick again. It is too much work to risk losing.

7am
The alarm clock sounds next to Marcelo’s heaving body. He swipes it with his arm, grunts and barks at the others to wake up. Obediently everyone gets up and there’s some chatter among the four women as they peel apples and heat the coffee and tortitas for breakfast. Marcelo jostles people awake in a busy-body fashion, relishing in his role as leader. He is not in charge for any particular leadership qualities but rather because he was the first person with a minivan – a precious and essential commodity for travelling harvesters – and so naturally this became his clan some 10 years ago when he inherited the van from his ill brother. The group has another rundown minivan – collectively bought – which is how they travel the country. Often they might camp but as the vendimia (grape harvest) is almost 4 months long, they rent Snr Velazquez’s rundown finca house for 300 pesos a month which includes water for the 1 flushing toilet, basic shower and gas for the hob.

7.15am
Everyone piles into the minibuses heading to the vineyard. They arrive 8 minutes early and wait to follow the bodega truck to the vines.

7.30am
Picking starts. Catunta (aka Carlos) and his wife Mahala (aka Maria) work in pairs: Maria picks, Carlos runs the buckets to the truck. Today they are picking grapes for wine that retail at $20 US. Carrying three empty 18 kg crates, Carlos and Maria both start picking their row. Bent over the vines with the crate directly below, Maria finds the stalk and chops it with a pair of scissors, dropping it into the crate careful not to take any leaves or bad bunches with it. You are paid per crate – so they pick as fast as they can. It takes them 7 minutes to fill a crate and then Carlos hauls one on his right shoulder and runs it to the truck to stack it on the back and collect a ficha or token (worth $1.40 AR) in exchange. He puts the token in his belt bag and runs for the next crate.

10am
Cut. Drop. Cut. Drop. Cut. Drop. It’s starting to get hot and Maria’s lower back is aching from the crouching. She keeps cutting.

12pm
35*C and Carlos is pouring sweat as he runs with loaded, heavy buckets to the van. At 56 it takes him longer than it used to. Maria’s hands are caked with sugary juice from the grapes. It’s starting to irritate the cut on her forefinger from a late Chardonnay harvest two weeks ago. She should wash her hands and leave it a few days to heal but she keeps going – its only 1 hour until lunch break. Cut. Drop. Cut. Drop. Carlos pauses for a slug of warm coke, Maria catches his eye. He puts the coke down and pulls out his scissors. Cut. Drop. Cut. Drop.

12.52pm
“Stop!” calls the vineyard manager – it’s their lunch break and no staff member wants to lose one minute of it. Carlos and Maria combine their crates, Maria quickly throws in three more bunches to fill it and Carlos runs to the truck as it pulls away towards the bodega. Someone’s brought a bucket of water and they all wash the thick, sticky layer of sugar off their purple hands. Water removes the sugar but the bluish purple staining will last the season, and the dirt is almost permanent. Maria looks at her hands and thinks of the hands of the Vendimia queen in a poster she saw plastered on the road side. She couldn’t read what it said beneath but did notice how clean, elegant and white the young lady’s hands were. Carlos is rummaging through her woven bag, Maria pushes him out of the way and delves her own hands in to produce their lunch: rice with carrots and onion, a small piece of meat and a tortita each. They eat with their hands whilst sat on the floor by the shade of an olive tree and finish in 5 minutes. They use the remaining 45 minutes to sleep.

2.12pm
The permanent vineyard staff come back after their siesta. The pickers had been complaining that they were running ten minutes late – cutting into their picking time. But as the truck pulls up they run out to the vines and start picking. Carlos puts his hand straight behind a bunch and swears loudly as a wasp stings him. Maria passes him a small onion from her pocket. He digs around for his penknife with his good hand and cuts a small slice of onion, wiping the white juice on his sting. He replaces the peel and keeps the onion in his pocket for dinner, or another sting.

3.45pm
Carlos loads another bucket. The vineyard manager looks in and tells Carlos to take out the leaves. He hollers at all the pickers to pick grapes, not leaves. Carlos runs back to the vines glaring at Maria who he sternly tells is not paying enough attention. Maria, with her head deep in the vines, blushes. Carlos touches her lightly on the back then turns to pick again. Cut. Drop. Cut. Drop.

4.36pm
“Stop! We have enough!” The vineyard manager shouts as the final buckets are loaded on the truck. Carlos collects their last token of the day. Carlos and Maria collected 78 crates, 78 tokens – $109.20 ($54.60 each for 8 hours work). They hold onto the tokens to exchange at the end of the week. Another water bucket is presented – Carlos washes his sucrose soaked hands, minding his sting, and follows the rest to the minivans, then home. Some men are already talking about forging tokens. Carlos raises his eyebrows at Maria – it’s all talk, no-one would risk it. Carlos starts to nod off and hopes there’s a free mattress at the house.

9.30pm
Carlos reaches over to turn off the alarm and pulls on more clothes – it’s cooler now. He goes to the kitchen for some potato and corn stew the women have made. Maria smiles with pride and brings him and the other three night pickers a small bit of ham. Young Cesar (who isn’t doing the night pick) grunts at no ham, but understands.

9.50pm
The four park the minivan and report to the vineyard office. They await their instructions – night picking is for expensive wines that retail for $70US on foreign shelves. The vineyard manager makes them each demonstrate the technique: cut the bunch and squat, placing it in the crate. Carlos doesn’t fully understand the manager’s Spanish but thinks he is telling them (again) how they are investing a lot of trust in them as outside pickers, that they will be paid $100AR per shift (not per bucket) and not to rush and lose any precious juice. Carlos nods anyway and they troop to the floodlit vineyards.

11pm
Cut. Squat. Place. Cut. Squat. Place. Night picking is slower and the cooler weather makes it nicer but working in the dark has its problems: Carlos almost tripped with a full crate not seeing a mound of earth, and he has just nipped his finger with the scissors. He keeps quiet though, it will stop bleeding soon.

11.40pm
A television crew have arrived and are slowing down the process even more. One journalist asks Carlos a question; he stares blankly – unable to decipher the educated Spanish. The vineyard manager cuts in directing the journalist to a picker further down the vine – a trainee oenologist from Mendoza, working fulltime in the bodega. Carlos blushes and keeps picking. His knees click each time he bends to the bucket.

4.20am
The shift is over. They finished picking the vineyard ahead of schedule and the manager is happy. All the staff and the four bolivians walk back to the bodega. A breakfast of coffee, pastries and ham and cheese sandwiches is laid on a table. Marcelo eats three sandwiches. Carlos catches the manager’s eye and only takes two. The manager smiles and walks over with their $400AR thanking them. The Bolivians walk back to their minivan to rest before the day pick. The staff at the bodega stay a while longer drinking mate and talking about their plans for their day off in lieu.

4.45am
Carlos enters the house, there are no mattresses left and Maria is sleeping on a hammock. He grabs the last sleeping mat and goes to sleep outside instead.

7am
Carlos hears the alarm clock and Marcelo shouting from inside. The sun is up and it is time to start picking.

An article I wrote for Wine Republic:

http://wine-republic.com/wine/512-a-day-in-the-life-of-a-grape-picker

My parents introduced me to wine from a young age and having slurped my way up from sickly sweet Blue Nun (shameful but a necessary rites-of-passage) to some rather more expensive (and ergo surely better?) wine, I figured I was ready for joining such a community. How naive!

Within half an hour of my arrival it became quite evident that Mendoza´s wine drinkers were well out of my league. Arriving one night in February (the height of Vendimia madness and wine know-it-alls), I jumped off the bus and headed to a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for the evening. Gazing at rows and rows of labels (and that was just the Malbec), I tried to navigate my way to some sort of decision.

Resolving that a 25 peso bottle with a pretty label was the most sensible way to go, I reached out to the middle shelf. “Ooooo, tush, tush, tush” came a disapproving tutting sound and head shake to my right. My hand faltered midair, suddenly feeling exposed.

“Is this not very good?” I blushed.
“Feo (horrible)” came the simple response.
“Uh – what do you recommend? Maybe the Trapiche?” I desperately scrambled for approval.
“Hmmm… this one is good” my elderly wine guardian pointed to a 50 peso bottle. Dammit. I struggled with my pride and purse strings.
“Or this one is not bad” he pointed to a 12 peso wine. I thanked him, grabbed the cheapie and walked to the check-out to reassess my future in Mendoza. If I can´t even stand my ground in a supermarket showdown how will I manage at, God forbid, a vineyard or tasting room?

Enter Escuela Argentina de Sommeliers (EAS) and its introductory sommelier course (or essentials to bluffing your way as a wine expert). Figuring this was a chance to learn the basics of Argentine wine, a few fancy wine words and drink plenty of nice wine under the guise of educational betterment – I signed up.

So after two months of learning the history, process and tasting of wine, and spitting and swirling our way through over 40 bottles, here are my top tips for bluffing your way as a wine expert:

1) To spit or not to spit?

An age old question. Sadly, no matter how good a wine is, in a tasting room, the real ‘expert’ would always spit. This took a few classes to learn. After trying to not so artfully half-spit and half-hoard in a hamster-like fashion, the messy aftermath forced me to spit it all out in the end. The theory behind this is obviously that in order to appreciate the different flavours and aromas of a wine, it helps to not be drunk.

2) May the force be with you
When spitting, try to find a happy balance in your force. Spit too ferociously and you end up with splash-back from the spitoon all over your face; not forceful enough and you will dribble down your chin. Swirling your wine in the glass to aerate it is another one to practice at home with a bib on.

3) Let it flow
Sommelier Bárbara Jones encouraged us to share whatever we thought we smelled and tasted (and admirably she tried to agree with most of our ideas). Wine is completely subjective so the true secret to bluffing is picking a likely aroma candidate and saying it with enough conviction. Red fruits and spices tend to go with reds, and white fruits and herbs for whites, but don´t be afraid to say something slightly unusual. Soon enough everyone will be smelling Tabasco sauce.

4) Inhale deeply
Most of the sensation of a wine comes from its aromas, so spend some good time inhaling and pondering like a professional. If, after 5 minutes, all you can genuinely come up with is ‘alcohol’ or ‘red wine’, perhaps just go with a classic faker’s response: a moustache-twitching “Hmmm, interesting – I can’t quite put my finger on it”.

5) Keep your names to yourself
Name-dropping is an instant giveaway for a wine bluff and a wine bore. Say you like the wine from the wrong bodega and you will instantly be cast off. If you insist on name-dropping vineyards – go for some smaller, boutique operations with a local presence, they are more likely to impress, and even better if they haven’t been heard of.

6) Break the rules
I learnt in my EAS wine and food pairing lesson that the classic combos (although classic for a reason) can be a bit tired. Spicy and rich chicken dish? Try matching it with a Cabernet Sauvignon. Sushi? Go for a Rosè. Mushrooms? Pinot Noir. Chocolate? Forget the wine, whisky all the way!

7) No way rosè
No self-respecting wine snob likes to admit they like rosè but they will all admit that sometimes a rosè cannot be replaced (for example with dessert). The key to being a wine-know-it-all is to know that all wines have their appropriate place and time (and preferably to know when that is, or furthermore, isn’t).

Probar, probar, probar!
My favorite EAS rule: probar, probar, probar (try, try, try)! There is no better way to become a wine expert other than by trying the stuff – Salud!

On a recent trip to an organic vineyard in Valle de Uco called Occioverde, I learnt that beyond the marketing phenomenon there is actually an inspiring motive. But before donning my hemp shirt and Birkenstocks, I asked owner and winemaker Paolo Addis to explain what ‘organic’ actually is and why there’s all this fuss about it.
 

Organic wine is both a new phenomenon and also a very old one. ‘Organic’ simplistically means respecting the environment by not using synthetic chemicals or anything that pollutes the environment. So it goes without saying that in the 7,000 year history of wine – it is only in the past 100 years since the invention of synthetic chemicals that non-organic wines have been made. Now the use of herbicides, fungicides and pesticides has become the norm; the ‘conventional’ method, and so conversely ‘organic’ is now the alternative. It is only in the past 10 years or so that Argentina has returned to some organic production with a handful of organic producers.

There are two ways to make ‘organic’ wine: producing organic wine, or producing wine made from organic grapes. Sound more or less the same? I thought so, but Paolo explained that where the first uses organic methods for the entire process (including the winery), the second uses organic grapes with conventional production in the winery (allowing them to add more sulphites, tannins and use different cleaning products). Most ‘organic’ wines are made the second way – with organically grown grapes.

Occioverde is one such producer with vineyeards located in La Consulta south of this beautiful valley. “What interests me about organic is the sustainability,” says Anglo-Italian Paulo as we walk through his sunny patch of vines with the Andes towering in the distance. “Conventional vineyards rely more and more on chemicals and get stuck in a vicious circle. The more you use synthetic chemicals, the more you need them.” As with all living things, the vineyard adapts to the chemicals and stronger formulas are needed to make an impact – thus taking it further and further away from its natural state, and shortening its life. “Put simply,” says Paolo, “if you fed someone a diet of McDonalds and steriods, they won’t live as long as someone with a healthy balanced diet. It is not healthy for the plant to be pushed like that.”

So if organic production is more sustainable and perhaps better for the earth, why is everyone using chemicals? Because they are much easier, cheaper, involve less work and higher production. But for Paolo, his business partner Elisabeta and numerous other organic producers, it is ‘vale la pena’ (worth the effort) and he believes that not only does it respect the land more but that the quality of the grapes are much higher. “With organic vines you get a much lower yield but a longer life – vines should last centuries, and pumping them with chemicals burns them out earlier.” It does not necessarily follow that the grapes are better quality if organic (it all depends on the individual winery) but usually organic vineyards take a more artisan approach, paying more attention to a smaller, more concentrated yield for better quality.

To conquer some of the many obstacles that Mother Nature throws at them, organic agronomists have to come up with some creative yet simple solutions. To stop the infamous and enormous Argentine ants and other pests munching their way through their budding crop, organic farmers might spray their vines with strong garlic or hot chilli (the bugs, like many Argentines, don’t like picante on their food). Another option is to grow ‘cover crops’ (or weeds for the less organic-literate) around the vines which give the pests their fill of tasty weeds rather than tucking into the rather more lucrative vines. This increased biodiversity is a strong principle of organic farming.

It all sounds much harder, more fiddly and demanding than just spraying the crops with ‘kill all’ somethingcides, but actually on a sunny afternoon in the vineyard, this lifestyle seems quite appealing. And it certainly sounds healthier.

“Organic is not just about the crop though – the people are also important,” says Paolo. “With conventional methods the workers are put at a health risk. When I was working in a vineyard in Italy, I once got some of the chemicals on my hands when they burnt through the plastic bag and very soon I felt sick. Not only did the headache put me off but also that these chemicals were strong enough to burn through plastic. I decided I really didn’t want to eat or drink these chemicals in any way!”

Organic farms are obliged to hire workers legally (which is often not the rule of thumb in rural Argentina) and thus workers handle safer products and have more legitimate working conditions (with insurance and pension etc). So if the people, environment and wine are perhaps better off organic, why aren’t more people doing it?

“I often joke that organic farming is actually less environmentally friendly because of the number of trees you use.” says Paolo. “There is so much paperwork involved in becoming certified that it puts a lot of people off. It does take more time and costs more money from this point of view.” To be ‘organic’ you need to be clear of chemicals for 3 years, have regular inspections and get certified by each country you wish to distribute to as well as complying with your national government’s regulations. This certainly builds up – the costs of certification and inspections can be around $4,000 US a year.

However it would be misleading to say that there isn’t some financial gain in going organic. We are back to the marketing ploy. And in Europe and the US, it is a great one. More and more consumers are looking for organic or fairtrade products, and whatever their or the producers’ motivation, this phenomenon is driving a positive change around the world. Within Argentina there is very little demand for organic, however with international consumer demand, organic and more sustainably produced wine is on the up, along with many other organic products in Argentina and the rest of the world.

So, on a personal level, is it worth a vineyard going organic? “There is more work and the risks are high, but we believe organic is much better for ourselves and the environment and our grapes keep getting better and better”

Paolo and Elisabeta are even thinking about trying to move to the holy grail of ‘green’ – biodynamic. If organic seemed difficult, biodynamic is a marathon. It is a method of organic farming which also takes into account the astronomical calendar, uses herbs and crystals and aims at having a practically complete self-sustainable farm. With preparations such as putting ground quartz in cow horns and stuffing flowers in deers bladders and cows intestines, burying them for a few months and then spraying the crops with the composted remains, biodynamic is probably a bit of a far stretch for most vineyards, let alone those in Argentina. However organic is really working its way more into the mainstream and proving to be more than a fad, and although I won’t be putting on my Birkenstocks just yet, after a healthy day at Occioverde I am certainly starting to see the greener side of life.

In a land with cheap booze, late night bars and no spirit measures, things can get a little rough around the edges by the end of the night most likely culminating in a banging resaca the following morning. Here are the top five ways to get around a hangover in Argentina, like a local.

Mate: ‘Hair of the dog’ doesn’t really wash here however hooking yourself back onto your caffeinated life-support is perfectly acceptable. Grab your mate, fill it with the powerful herbs, hug your warm thermos close to your needy hungover body and drag on the bombilla (straw) to pull out all that caffeine goodness that will spring you back to life in no time.

Empanadas: Soft, warm and full of melted cheese – empanadas were made for hangovers. One of the staples of Argentine cuisine and so cheap that you can go for any or all of the flavours to suit your unpredictable, irrational whims.

The Pancho: Panchos (hotdogs) are more popular than empanadas in some Argentine towns. The closer you get to Chile the more hotdog chains you will notice and in many cities this is the hangover cure de jour! Order a cheap suggestive-looking hotdog, slather it in sauce or whatever toppings you fancy and feel the booze blues slip away.

Siesta: After the enormous effort of getting up and eating, you are sure to have peaked and this is where one important cultural rule of Argentina really starts to make sense: siesta time. A couple hours of snooze in the afternoon is always welcome and it might even give you a second wind for the night ahead.

Cleaning your pavement: If you just can’t manage anything other than repetitive, menial tasks then a hangover is the perfect opportunity to get in with the locals and join your neighbours in the national obsession: cleaning your pavement. Take a broom, hosepipe and mop, put on your sunglasses, and slowly push the leaves back and forth, back and forth. Like a mother rocking her baby to sleep.

Hundreds of grape pickers flock to Mendoza to work the season pulling at the year’s bounty on the vines. They work long, hard hours and are usually poorly paid, earning an average of around two pesos per bucket of grapes. And these buckets are very big and very heavy.

However I, like many wine drinkers, still hold onto a fairytale fantasy of doing a day’s hard work in the field picking grapes and then sitting back satisfied in your contribution to what will surely turn out to be a great bottle of wine.

So I found myself dressed in my ‘farm’ clothes stood outside an unmarked door one dusty morning in Lujan de Cuyo, not really knowing what to expect but ready to get my hands dirty. It didn’t quite turn out like that.

Hacienda del Plata is a small, family-run vineyard with 14 hectares of land. But despite its quaint, laid back and romantic appearance the workers here don’t wait around. I arrived to find the pickers working rapidly in the fields, demonstrating masterfully how quickly one can clear a row of vines from all its glorious fruit.

This profession apparently starts in the womb so I was at a severe disadvantage in even attempting to compete with their nimble, quick working hands. To be honest, I couldn’t even lift a bucket half full of grapes and even meandering into the mud made me feel in the way and like a complete fraud. Bending over all afternoon to lop off grape bundles is no easy work, and a journalist plucking off a few grapes could never claim to have experienced working with the land. I would also be no good at it.

Pablo Gonzalez, the owner of Hacienda del Plata, recognised this. “This work is not for everyone – it is not easy,” he explained to me, politely pointing out the obvious. “These grape pickers have been picking for years and are skilled at what they do. They are no different to you or I, but this is what they do – it is their profession and they work hard at it.”

Pablo was right, I had perhaps taken it for granted that anyone could pick grapes all day, but this is really not the case. Perhaps you can enjoy an afternoon of an organised tourist activity in one of the vineyards here, gathering grapes at a relaxed pace for a few hours and then putting your feet up to enjoy a glass of wine and top notch lunch. But a few hours of work and boozing is not the harvest. The harvest is sweaty, tiring and utterly unglamorous.

Grape pickers spend a period of three months waiting for the few days or weeks in which the vineyard decides they want to pick the different grape varieties and then it is all hands to the dirt. A race ensues as the pickers get through the vines in the fastest, most efficient manner possible while being careful not to damage or miss any of the liquid gold. The truck is filled with tons of buckets and then the fruit gets shipped to the winery and the pickers off home. The reality is that it is a hard but honest day’s work. And you have to admire it.

These solid values of the grape pickers and land workers are the foundations of Hacienda del Plata. With vines over 80 years old, Hacienda del Plata has been producing grapes for almost a century and Pablo took over the vineyard from his father Carlos Enrique González to become the fourth generation owner. He believes the identity of the business today was borne out of the values of its land workers, something which his father taught him to respect.

“Hacienda del Plata focuses on the values of the people working on the land,” he said. “My father wrote about these ideals and qualities of the people – hard work, honesty and humility – and they are reflected in our wines.”
Pablo clearly takes inspiration from his father and holds dear his teachings to respect the pickers and ranchers for their contribution and value that they give to the land. He acknowledges that it is also their sweat and toil which makes a good wine.

“Working on the land is a great educator to respect people,” he says. “These grape pickers and workers do not have any expensive education etc but you learn to respect them as soon as you learn how hard it is to work on the land – this is what my father taught us.”

To add to his family’s legacy, Pablo started to make wine ten years ago in a bid to leave his own legacy – taking Hacienda del Plata in a new direction. Although the vineyard has a long history in vines, it is comparatively new to wines.

“The decision was more of a romantic vision than a business one,” he told me. “When I die I didn’t want to just leave grapes, I wanted to leave more. So I thought, why
not try making wine?”

Recruiting the help of experienced enologists, Pablo has spent the past decade learning how to make wine. “I like this activity, it is honest and noble,” he said. “I have discovered processes that I love in wine making: I love to see the wine transform, to see and smell the changes and taste the development.”
His eldest son, Juan Pablo, who moved back to the family home a couple years ago to join his father in his new wine venture, shares his father’s child-like, wide-eyed passion for experimentation.

“I consider myself lucky to have grown up here on a vineyard and it was always a childhood dream of mine to work in wine,” he said. “I really like to make wine, and now I am involved in every aspect of the wine – you see the process and you are in the process,” he explained.

Wine was however not what Juan started doing. He left home, like all of Pablo’s four children, to study something else and pursue his own career choice. For Juan this was Industrial Engineering.

However when Pablo started making wine, the temptation to join his father in the vineyard was too much for Juan. And now they both spend the rest of year in the bodega, trying and testing new methods in order to come up with something that they think is special. It doesn’t always work out, but when it does Juan says it is worth it: “The wine is like your baby and when it comes out well, it is a very proud and exciting moment.”

Pablo is also a proud and excited father. All four of Pablo’s children have come back home to work together in this new project, despite no such request from him. In fact Pablo, like his father, has always encouraged his children to follow their own desires and interests. When they all decided independently to work with him at Hacienda del Plata he was surprised.

“At first I was worried to work with family,” he admits, “but now I am very happy that I had the opportunity to do this and I can see how happy they all are here.”
As with most family businesses, the Gonzalez family has had its share of historical family feuds but this generation is adamant that they will work hard to stay together on everything.

“We are supporting each other and are all focused on the same direction,” says Juan. “We want to keep it as a family business and make it grow.”

Pablo’s eldest daughter Rosario has also returned to work in the family business and is living on their other small vineyard, Castro Barros, with her husband. They are expecting their first child this winter. For her, this is a chance to return to the idyllic lifestyle that living on a vineyard gave her as a child and to give her future family the same enjoyment.

“I had a lot of fun living here,” she reflects. “I love the life that wine gives you – it always creates great moments. Those moments of sharing the wine and enjoying each other’s company – that is what I love.”

It is clear that Hacienda del Plata is driven by the family’s passion and desire to enjoy the lifestyle of living and working on a vineyard. At the moment they produce around 60,000 bottles a year and the plan is to remain a boutique production and keep the core values and traditions at the heart of Hacienda del Plata.

“The vision for the future is to have a bodega that aims at high quality (but not high volume) wines and never forgets the beautiful part of this, which is the nature and the people,” added Pablo. “We don’t want to lose this, and for me this is the pure pleasure – to stand under my vines of 100 years knowing who and what has gone into them.”

As much as Pablo and his children enjoy the process in the barrels and drinking the final product, he admits that the real ‘wine making’ starts in the ground – exactly where Hacienda del Plata came from. “Seventy percent of a good wine is made in the vines,” he says.

Grape pickers and land workers don’t get any great esteem or Wine Advocate points for all their hard work on the vines but Pablo is keen to stress the value of the sweat and toil of those that work at grassroots level. This is their lifestyle and passion too. Many workers start at a young age in the field and stay there right into their later years. Their faces become sun drenched and weathered like the vines – a real portrait and testimony to their hard work.

“The most important thing is the years of work that have gone into the vines,” concludes Pablo. “The values and work of the people are alive in the wines.”
You know exactly what he means when you look out over the slumber, old vineyard and see dozens of pickers hard at work.

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I learnt the names of the main grape varieties in my teens, I learnt at University not to drink a wine when the cork smells funny and since arriving in Argentina six months ago I even know that you should gurgle the wine in your mouth before glugging it.

When I found out about the short courses taught at Escuela Argentina de Sommeliers (EAS), I enrolled on one in the hope that I could learn more about the world’s greatest juice in all its glory (I also figure it might bolster my credentials at any pretentious dinner party).

I started the eight-week course on Wednesday evening at the schoolin Hipólito Yrigoyen. Trainee sommeliers, restaurant workers and mendocinians who simply like wine formed the small group.

For our first lesson we were welcomed by Sommelier Bárbara Jones who gave us a short introduction on what we would be covering in the course and took us through a brief overview of Old World and New World wines. We touched on the important French heritage in wine and the interesting reason behind Mablec’s name (so called because in France it was a bad wine and in French, Malbec means a bad nose).

Bárbara then taught us the main three steps of wine tasting: the first impression (looks and smells), experience in the mouth (flavours, aromas, tannins, alcohol and acidity) and finally the finish (aftertaste and length).

After happily learning the theory in an approachable and unpatronising way, we moved onto the best part of the lesson: the practical.

Now I am not sure whether it is a ‘waste not, want not’ attitude or perhaps a minor alcohol addiction, but either way I am not accustomed to spitting out my wine. In fact, to me spitting out a good wine is almost sacrilege. However Bárbara informed us that spitting was the only way to go at EAS and so holding back from my British tendency to guzzle everything in front of me, I restrained and learnt the hardest lesson of the day – how to spit out delightful vino.

We worked our way through three whites and then three reds in a blind tasting, trying to pick up on different aromas and tastes. We could smell fruit and flowers and our teacher was encouraging about our (probably incorrect) guesses, but I think we are still very far off from detecting anise and leather. After revealing the wines, there was a chance for us to finish our tasting cups – this time we were allowed to swallow, joy!

I left happy, intrigued, eager for next week and thirsty for another glass of wine.

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I went to my first football match last Sunday. I have watched the game on television once or twice and I think anyone who is remotely conscious during the World Cup can just about understand the concept of getting the ball through a net to gain points. So the football itself was no surprise. It was everything around it that took me aback.

Before even embarking on the short walk to the stadium in Parque San Martin I had been warned by many that football was a dangerous game – not for those playing but for the spectators who may be pushed around, mugged or even smacked in the face.

A seething mass of police cars, officers on horses and flashing lights were enough to make me slightly concerned for the safety of my spectacles however we carried on following the sea of blue and white uniformed Godoy Cruz supporters.

Smelling the familiar whiff of Choripan, I bought the obligatory completo to placate my nervous stomach and followed everyone into the stadium. Although not before a police search on the way in.

Estadio Malvinas Argentinas (ahem, time to switch from my English accent and attempt an appalling Australian one) is bigger than I expected, seating just under 50,000 spectators and was built for the World Cup in 1978. Apart from that the stadium was not used for any big matches, as Mendoza did not have a team in the first league. That was until recently.

Godoy Cruz made its way up to the Argentine Football First Division in 2006 and since then Mendoza’s Stadium has been put back on the map. Last Sunday’s match, I was informed, was a bit of a milestone for Godoy Cruz. They had never reached so far in the First Division and so obviously there was palpable excitement in the air.

Supporters thundering big drums, tooting their trumpets and setting off bangers and fireworks made for a colourful tribal procession into the stadium. One half of the stadium was full (obviously the Godoy Cruz side) and on the other end there were only a handful of supporters for Buenos Aires’ Banfield team, who had been smuggled in through the other entrance and were camouflaged in civilian’s clothing to avoid any trouble after the match.

The football fans got busy putting out their banners and flags, while setting off more bangers and fireworks as kick-off approached. Four sets of riot squads moved out to guard the corners of the pitch and sniffer dogs sat hesitantly on the sidelines. Loud boos and whistles heralded the entrance of the opposition and then cheers, whoops and newspaper confetti were thrown as Godoy Cruz walked on – it felt like a pantomime that was only missing a dame.

After a huge build-up the football started. They played well and the goals and almost goals were exciting but to be honest I was more riveted by the action off the pitch, and I wasn’t the only one.

An onslaught of what looked like toilet paper was thrown at the pitch and Banfield’s goalie spent most of the first half tidying up. Water balloons were hurled at the riot squad (although I seriously doubt it was water…) and everyone started jumping and shouting all sorts of obscenities in Spanish.

We were winning so I am not sure why it was necessary to call anyone a ‘c*ncha de madre’ but everyone seemed to feel that way. I found myself stood in front of the loudest supporter of them all who felt impulsed in a tourettes-like manner to shout every obscenity under the sun down my neck every two minutes. Thank you for expanding my vocabulary.

During half time we all sat down to rest our feet and vocal lungs and then it was back up again to shout, jump and avoid all the dangerously low-flying fireworks and water bombs. Godoy Cruz won 2-0 and everyone left happy and peacefully, content that their bad language and toilet paper had nailed the game.

Actually, I bet the Romans would have loved it. I did.

A beer at a bar in Punta can cost more than a night’s accommodation in any other South American country and during high season (December to March) prices are at a premium.

A black hole in the credit crunch universe, luxury apartments are still being built across the peninsular and with demand increasing the popularity of the city doesn’t look set to wane anytime soon.

Full of rich Argentineans, blinging Brazilians, moneyed Mexicans, wealthy Europeans and the occasional lost Uruguayan, Punta del Este is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the continent.

If you want to see what all the fuss is about but can’t afford the bar bill stay in neighbouring Maldonado, fill up on the cheap chivitos and enjoy the pretty beaches while splashing out on the odd party.

The city

Punta del Este sits on a peninsular where the Atlantic Ocean and Rio de la Plata meet. The river side on the west provides tranquil bathing beaches of Playa Mansa and the sea side on the east creates attractive surf and party beaches of Playa Brava and infamous Bikini Beach.

Filled in between the two coasts are trendy boutiques, over-priced restaurants, outrageous apartments and possibly the most beautiful McDonalds in the world.

Famed for its nightlife, most of the action in Punta happens in La Barra – a neighbourhood joined by an attractive bridge just off the peninsula. La Barra’s restaurants, bars and clubs pull in thousands of young people every night and make it popular with travellers who fancy an indulgent and expensive break from the usual cheap lager and table wine.

If you want to see Punta in its full ‘glory’ (and for free) visit the Conrad. This huge zoo-like hotel is full of minor celebrities, surgery sculpted oldies, tasteless tourists and serious gamblers who come for the fashion shows, free toilets and large casino. Sit wide-eyed in the Casino watching men hand over thousands of dollars for a few plastic chips while their wives (or otherwise) kick back mulling over a drink and their new diamond from neighbouring Tiffany’s.

Beyond the bling

There are however some real gems in Punta del Este. This is still Uruguay and rich culture and interesting architecture are just about visible under the big signs and multicoloured lights.

The large hand buried in the sand on Playa Brava is one of the most recognisable images of the city but nearby Casapueblo on Punta Ballena is one of the biggest architectural draws. This hotel/restaurant/gallery was designed by local artist Carlos Paez Vilaro and is a surrealist’s wet dream with curvy, white, labyrinthine hotel rooms dripping over the cliff side. The night view from Punta Ballena looking at the bright lights of Punta del Este is also worth the trip.

Back in the city the harbour is a nice spot to visit so long as you can handle boat envy. Luxury yachts and boats bobbing along at sunset make great photos but make sure you cast your eye over the dry land beside the harbour where local fisherman sell their catch at bargain prices.

For culture, the city hosts regular free exhibitions and artisan fairs (visit the cultural centre and Plaza Artigas).

Maldonado

To escape the inflated prices and see how the real locals live, visit Maldonado. A city tucked closely behind Punta with an attractive square (Plaza Maldonado), affordable bars and restaurants, a humble cathedral and full of normal looking people, Maldonado makes for a nice change.

It has a small town feel and hosts a big Sunday market and also South America’s most popular red light district.

A world away

Punta del Este comes as a complete shock travelling from any direction. It is a world away from some of its less developed neighbours and more closely resembles St Tropez than any other coast destination in Uruguay. It will cost you, but if you want a peek into South America’s playboy playground, Punta is worth every penny.