Mendoza, Argentina

Mendoza, Argentina, has traditionally had close ties with Chile, given it's geography-it's just a hop over the Andes, and way closer to Santiago than to Buenos Aires. But national alliances prevail, especially in times of dictatorship, and only in the last while have Mendoza and Santiago started to rebuild their close ties.

And, despite the fact that there's a humonguous mountain range in between Chile and Argentina, there sure is a lot of traffic going back and forth. And yesterday was no exception, as I got on board a bus for the 7 hour journey from Santiago to Mendoza.

Intercity buses in Chile and Argentina are like a million times better than what we're used to in Canada. First of all, it's cheap ( my 7 hour international journey cost abou $16). Second of all, you have your choice of class- you can take a normal bus (clasico), or coche-cama, where the seats are bigger, and recline right out into beds. And even on the clasico buses, there's usually food or drinks served.

My seatmate was a chatty one- Rafael from Rosario. He's studying to be a bartender and he invited me to stay at his house if I go there. I traded him one of the empanadas I brought for lunch for one of his chocolate milks.

The best part about the bus ride is that YOU'RE CROSSING THE ANDES. Like, driving right over them. So for the 2.5 hours it takes to get to the border, which is right at the top of a mountain, you go through the foothills, and then finally a road that winds through the snowy mountaintops. And then you cross the border and wind through some more snowy mountaintops until you get to the foothills on the other side and finally to Mendoza.

Crossing the border is a huge hassle, though. If you're on a bus ( and there were about 10 other buses while we were there) you have to wait on the bus at the top for about 30 minutes, then everyone has to get off, line up to officially exit Chile with the Chilean border guards, then line up again to enter Argentina with the Argentinian border guards. Then they search the bus, inside and out, the motor, undeneath and everything, then they search all the checked luggage. The only person on our bus who they really searched was this little old Granny who seemed to have like, all the equipment for a full kitchen and presents for her 85 grandchildren in her suitcase.

All this procedure at the border is interspersed with much waiting around. The cool part is that you're surrounded by snowy mountains. As I waited I talked to this guy who was seriously the biggest hipster I've seen since outside Montreal. He had a shaved head and weird glasses and tight little jeans and a sweatshirt and jean jacket and sneakers. He was listening to music on these huge earphones, and was reading something intellectual. He was going to Buenos Aires to buy comics for his brother's comics store. I was like, "Haven't I run into you at Casa before?"

The most exciting part of the bus ride (besides the Lindsay Lohan movie) was when on the highway between the border and Mendoza, this car in the on-coming lane, for whatever reason, pulled a 180, screeching out into our lane. The bus driver McGyver-ed onto the shoulder, swearing like a sailor, and then pulled us back out onto the road. I don't even think he took his foot off the gas.

And so here I am in Argentina. This will be the last time I mention it, I promise, but it's SO CHEAP. I'm staying in this really nice hostel, right near the centre, with a shared kitchen and living room, with my own bedroom with a private bathroom. It's $11 a night! And that includes breakfast. AND my room has a bidet! ( Now I just have to, like, Google search to figure out how to use it...). We could go into the international politics of why Argentina's so cheap, and whether or not that's good in the long run for the country. But, for now, I'll just keep using my bidet and leaving big tips in the restaurants.

Since I've only been here a matter of hours, the most prominent observation I've made on Argentina after an afternoon of people watching is that the mullet is alive and well. Only amongst young men, though. And it's not really the full-out, super-cropped on the top and long and flowing down the back. It's like the Latin-Americanized mini-mullet, let's call it a mulletto. It's like a normal haircut, but at the back, it's just a little longer, just long enough to touch the collar, and maybe a little puffier too.

I'm here for a couple more days before heading north to Salta. But, in the words of Queen, I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike! So I think tomorrow I'll rent a bike and ride around the park!