Bodega Familia Zuccardi

Mendocinos (people from Mendoza) are very kind, welcoming and respectful people. They also love to make fun of each other and me. The other server here are always asking about my family and friends, what kind of music I like and what I do for fun back home. They tease me about going to bed early (which is what happens when you live on a vineyard 20 miles away from the nearest bar), and my silly language mistakes. Today, I thought I asked my friend Dani is she could bring some water to the server station. What I actually said was,"Could you bring water to the gas station?" I try to think of my friend Caroline's wise advice: Always be able to laugh at yourself. Right, Karo?!

The Mendocino accent is proving to be pretty difficult for me to understand, as opposed to the porteño (from Buenos Aires) accent that I am used to. Often times, I have to ask someone to repeat something two or three times. It can be frustrating, especially in groups of native speakers, because you don't want to stop the conversation to ask, "Wait, what?" I try to enjoy the learning process, but I so badly want to speak and understand all kinds of Spanish naturally.

Another interesting thing about the vineyard is that people are always zooming around on two wheels. People that work here ride around on motorcycles, but a lot of people use bikes, too. There are also sirens that go off at all hours here, which is very strange, because nothing goes on here at night. We're going to try to get our hands on some bikes to use on a day off.

There is a dog here named Syrah, like the wine. He is big and friendly and keeps me company while I write these blog entries. He keeps himself busy trying to catch the frogs in the pond.

One last tidbit before I go-last Sunday, which was actually Mother's Day in Argentina, I accidentely set off the alarm at the restaurant. I didn't get the memo that we were supposed to arrive at 10 a.m. instead of 9 a.m., and when I tried the door, it just sort of popped open. Alarms, everything. Those who know my tales from Buenos Aires know this also happened to me at my host family's house. Anyways, I waited for the security that seems to be around at all hours except for just then, but no one came. I slinked away back to our little Casa 5 and then later told my boss. Shame, shame, shame. At least I can laugh, no?