Wow. Can you believe it. We made time out of our first wine hopping day to check out e-mail (and for me to post something).

Suprisingly, we made it to two wineries today. After our 13 hour (or maybe it was more like 15 hours) in a cool, double decker bus- we got the front window seats on top. It was cool during the daylight hours, of course- we got ourselves to the hostel for a shower (my first hostel experience, wahoo!) and hopped back on the bus for a jaunt down bodega lane.

But, of course, not without buying a pair of flip-flops (we each got a pair with a different football team logo on them) for the shower, freaking out about being in a hostel shower shared by both men and women (yes, I have been pampered all my life), buying 9 empanadas to share for the ride to the bodegas, and having a cute (I was really the only one who thought he was cute) stray, mutt follow the smell of our empanadas through the bus station (I'm sorry, Gussie, I couldn't help one of your brethren today. He surely would have followed us everywhere).

Once on our way on the bus we passed lots of things not quite sure where to get off at our first winery stop (We were hoping to hit Chandon and Norton -whose wines we had tried in both Bermuda and Buenos Aires). According to our handy Mendoza map, the two bodegas were next to each other.

Finally, after what felt like miles, we passed Norton expecting Chandon to be just past that last row of grape vines.

Ten minutes later we finally saw the Chandon bodega. We were very excited at this point that we weren't just basically riding around on the bus looking like complete tourists not knowing when to get off.

We met a pleasant security guard who directed us through the garden and over to another pleasant looking security guard, who would help us find our way into the wine vats.

Pleasant security guard #2 explained that the next tour wouldn't be again until 4 p.m. At 2.30 p.m. we didn't know quite what to do with ourselves with miles and miles of grape vines between us, Norton or any other form of civilization. PSG# told us to head down a kilometer or two where we'd find, what we thought he said, an English bodega.

Yes, you, crazy English-speaking people. Off with you, go find an English speaking bodega.

Miserable and worried we were being sent to some never-toured bodega we trudged down the road as slimy men honked at us (three girls walking down the road is probably not a common sight).

Lo and behold we came across the English bodega, Dolium, which was already looking quite unEnglish. A third pleasant security guard happily greeted us and made a phone call and a pleasant looking tour guide came and met us happily speaking Spanish. We were quite confused as to where the English bodega had gone to but continued our tour- meeting along the way some British folks.

A bottle of Malbec (each, Sarah two) and having sipped at least 5 different wine varietals later we were off to Chandon for our 4 p.m. tour- noting that the British folk had made it ahead of us. We got to Chandon just in time to have PSG#2 wave us back across the garden for our tour.

More wine and happiness at having been to our first wineries we hopped back on the bus explaining to the British folk that PSG#2 had directed us to the next bodega where he'd apparently sent some other English people- them.