Why Argentina?

“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?

A day in the life of a Grape Picker

Many people have a romantic image of grape picking: fuelled by holiday packages grape in Southern France, sun soaked paintings of pickers at dawn and Russell Crowe movies. Even Mendoza's Vendimia festival gives the impression that the harvest is somewhat glamorous. But beauty queens (who rarely visit a vineyard), parades and cocktail parties are a mile apart from the tough reality of grape picking... Hours are long, conditions are difficult and payment is poor.

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

How to bluff your way as a wine expert!

Mendoza can be a daunting destination for wine amateurs. Gentle bar chatter in a city with a swollen population of sommeliers, oenophiles, wine snobs and fiercely-proud locals (where everyone and their grandmother would happily correct Michel Rolland) can be a somewhat bewildering prospect. So how can you fake your way as a wine expert?

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).

8) 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!

Cabernet Footprint: Organic Wine!

'Organic', like 'sustainable', often appears as a marketing term hijacked by companies aimed at giving stay-at-home, yoga practising, yummy mummies an affordable sense of wellbeing.

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.