Bad times in Mendoza

It's a bad start to Mendoza. I arrive at Buenos Aires

Aeroparque airport to chaos. I can barely squeeze

through the doors as the departure hall is packed with

frustrated travellers. All the check-in desks are

surrounded by angry people so it's impossible to find

someone to talk to. On the monitors it shows all

flights as delayed. I'm standing bemused with no idea

what to do when I bizarrely spot my Patagonian tour

guide in the crowd. He tells me there was a storm in

Buenos Aires last night which damaged the control

tower antennae? and it doesn't look like anyone will

be flying today.

 

There's nothing to do but hang around and see what

happens. I even make a start to Anna Karenina which

I've been lugging in my backpack. My flight at 5pm

ends up being cancelled and I'm put on standby for a

flight at midnight. After all the queueing and waiting

I feel lucky to get on.

 

I arrive in Mendoza at 2am shattered. The hotel where

I'm supposed to be staying is full so I end up

crashing on their sofa until the morning when I can

check in.

 

After a couple of hours sleep I decide to walk around

the city. I'm pleasantly surprised. Mendoza is a lot

bigger than I envisaged, with a population of over one

million, sitting at the foot of the Andes and

surrounded by vineyards and wineries.

 

Its wide tree-lined streets are bustling with

beautiful people. There are cafes and ice cream

parlours everywhere and the shady squares remind me a

little of Savannah in the US. I like it here

immediately. I start by visiting some of the leafy

squares in the centre of town. One of the most

attractive is the Plaza Espana, which has beautiful

tiled benches and a mural illustrating the epic gaucho

poem, Martin Fierro.

 

While I'm busily photographing tiles I'll called over

by four women in gyspy dress. They ask me to sit down

and ask me where I'm from. The conversation is going

swimmingly well until one of them wants to read my

palm. There are some (quiet) bells going off in my

head but at the time I think it might be amusing to

see if it's the same spiel I've heard before. She

leads me to a bench, looks at my palm and tells me

that I suffer from loneliness and have a lack of love

in my life. Oh dear. I have heard it all before. She

says she can 'fix' the problem and keeps repeating the

phrase 'You have no idea how powerful I am'. I should

have walked away at that point but I was curious to

see how it would pan out.

 

She says she doesn't want any money and then asks me

for a piece of paper so I give her an old post-it note

I find in my bag. She then asks for a note (of money)

but says she'll give it back. I give her one of not

much value and half expect her to run off with it,

although she´s no Linford Christie. Instead she

scrunches it up in her hand and pours water over it,

mashing it into a pulp. I watch this bemusedly with no

idea what's happening, apart from the fact that

somehow I am being conned. In a menacing deep voice,

not dissimilar to the Exorcist girl, she ask for

another note. Afraid of being stabbed at this point I

hand over another note which she proceeds to scrunch

up and pour water over too while chanting some

indecipherable babble. I'm not sure how I'm going to

get out of this awkward situation but then I spot the

money in her hand, grab it and walk off. She shouts

after me that I'll be cursed forever. When I look back

I see that her gypsy friend is holding her back and

saying to me 'Don`t worry you'll be very lucky in

life.' Evidently.

 

(Photo - Plaza Espana)

 

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