Left Iguazu by plane and flew to Mendoza, home of the Argentina wine industry.  Mendoza at this time of year is usually very sunny, hot and dry, but it has been cool, humid, and a little rainy since I got here.  Can only see an outline of the Andes.  I blame Boston (for screwing up the worlds weather), global warming and George Bush, in that order.

Anyway, rented a car today and took to the Argentina roads to visit a winery in the Uco Valley about an hour and half south of Mendoza.  I say a car, but it was more like a ride a mower with  a roof.   A feeling of physical security it did not engender.  If I a collided with one of the ubiquitous motor scooters, it was not clear who would come out worse.  Of course, since the Argentines dirve like mad men, what was the worry.

You do see some unsual things on the road.  While I on the highway, I saw a guy who had set up shop for a barbecue in the median strip, fire burning barrel and all.  Did not have time to inquire whether he was selling anything.  Road signage does not seem to be of concern here. I spent a good hour this morning planning my trip by different route numbers, none of whch I actually ever saw.  And using blinkers to change lanes, well, that is not an Argentine practice.  Out of habit, I did it, but I wonder what any Argentine following was thinking- why is that guy using his blinker?  Is he exiting the highway right here in the middle of nowhere?

Anyway, got to the winery where I had a reservation for lunch and a tour.  When I got there, there was a guard at the gate, who did not seem very impressed either with me or the egg beater I was driving.  He sort of scowled at me and took my name and called the higher ups,  He came back a couple minutes later all smiles and said something about nice car in Spanish, I think, and let me through the chained gate.  Different welcome from your winery in California.

Ended up with this 6 course lunch with accompaning wines from the vinyard.  I cannot remember when I had a better meal, or one with better presentation, though it was a strange experience as I was the only one in this beautiful restaurant overlooking miles of vinyards running up the Andes (I wish the guard could have seen me then).  It was also a lot wine in the middle of the day, though I did not drink nearly all of it.

Anyway, inadvertently half in the bag, I jumped back in the

underpowered John Deere mower, sped down the lane and past the guard with barely nod and roared out into the road with all 3 cylinders firing and headed back to Mendoza not at all worried about no road signs or crazy Argentine drivers.  At least I think I headed in the direction of Mendoza.