kellita the señorita the ibby dibby dow: Holy Cow

i still step in dog poop from time to time

I’ve left my smart packing, budget traveling self behind this week. After a touristy weekend in Buenos Aires, Jane and I arrived in Mendoza this morning in style. In booking our bus travel on Monday night we decided to pay the extra $20US for the first-class overnight bus. I don’t know if I can ever go back.

We boarded the bus Tuesday night and were giggling like little girls as we fell into the plush leather seats, reclining back and up again testing the various comfort possibilities. We placed our shoes in the “shoe bags”, lost the game of bus Bingo, ate dinner complete with unlimited wine and champagne, watched a movie, played on the wi-fi enabled internet, and finally reclined our full beds to sleep soundly for the night.

We were greeted in Mendoza by some serious winds which made enjoying the city a bit of a challenge. We walked around shielding our heads from falling tree branches, our mouths from dust-induced asthma and after a few hours took solace in our hotel room. Yes. I said hotel, not hostel. Thanks to Jane, I’m living in style at the Aconcagua Hotel, and it’s lovely. When we arrived she remarked the room was a bit small, but for me, sharing a small room with only one other person sans bunk beds is sheer luxury. I took a nap to refresh my dusty eyes, and we researched our options for dinner.

Jane’s friend had recommended a restaurant called 1884, and we decided to go for it. We hopped in a cab and were somewhat confused 15 minutes later when the driver stopped in front of a large cement nondescript building. Jane and I exchanged weary glances as a security guard emerged from behind an iron gate and asked if we had a reservation. Luckily the answer was yes. As soon as he confirmed my name on the list the iron gates opened and the cab drove us into what I can only describe as a castle-like structure. It felt like we were on a big secret, the kind of place where you half expected some big fat Italian guy to ask you for the secret password. But there was no password collector, and we were allowed to enter the beautiful restaurant.

We had read a review online that we should order the steak for 2, and that it was big even by Argentine standards. Jane hadn’t had her Argentine steak yet, so there was no question that was the thing to do. When the waitress set the “plate” down in front of us we just started hysterically laughing as the entire restaurant turned toward us, laughing as well. The steak was i longer than the length of my entire arm and thicker than my 9^th grade math book. It was ridiculous. They should advertise the steak as fit for 10 people to eat (Jane says 4 is more realistic, but I like to think big). A neighboring diner told us that if we could finish the entire thing our meal was on the house. As if.

We ate as much as we could, laughing through the whole dinner, entering soon after into content meat-induced comas. Peter Lugar has nothing on 1884.