You can call me cultured, but not a camper...

The last part is unfortunately true, but the first part I am happy about, because now that I have been to a wine-tasting shindig and can call myself ¨cultured.¨ It might have been in a rural Chilean town, but hey, wine is wine, and people that drink wine know what they´re doing, and are cultured. Ladies and gentlemen, at the ripe old age of 20 years old, I can now proudly state that I am that person.

This weekend there was a Wine Festival (El Festival de la Vindima, if you prefer) in Curicó, Chile, about 2 hours from Santiago. We left early Friday and got there at about 10 in the morning. The festival didn´t start until 6, so we killed time by visiting a vineyard for absolutely free. One girl among us is Puerto Rican, therefore fluent in Spanish, and I have no idea how she pulled that, but this is one of the main reasons why I must know Spanish.

So we visited the vineyard in the middle of nowhere (yet again) and saw the giant truckloads of grapes be shoved into a machine that magically pulls off their stems. They then get sucked into two huge vats that squeeze all the juice out of the grapes, one by compressing them with wood and another by compressing them with air. This concoction gets moved into more huge vats that are dated, and get yeast poured in so they can ferment. Basically, thats how you make wine.

That night, we went back into town and paid a muderously cheap rate for as much vino as we could drink. $3 for a obligatory glass cup, and $1 for every glass afterwards. Every vendor around that area was there, except for the vineyard we visited, which was about 12-15 different companies. Although I probably could have sampled more, I stuck to three glasses of different wines (Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, and Merlot) some delicious Alfredo pasta, and some chocolate covered bananas. It was fantastic.

The next day, we ventured south about 1 1/2 hours more to camp near this place called Siete Tazas (Seven Cups). It is a series of beautiful waterfalls located in one of Chile´s numerous national parks. The waterfalls were just as stunning as they sound; some flow into one another, and some are solidly spilling into a rounded lagoon which does remind you of a teacup. We came back to our campsite and had some more wine and grub, and sat around an illegal campfire that we didn´t get caught for. Because there weren´t as many tents as there was people, two other girls and I slept in the hostel next to it, (this is a good time to point out I have never been camping, and even though I would, I didn´t feel the diehard need to like some people did.)

This trip was planned last minute, but I am so glad it turned out as well as if it were planned weeks in advance. I really recommend Chilean wine (especially from Concha y Toro and Miguel Torres) if it is an option. If not, just come to Chile, I´m sure if you´re reading this I miss you and hey, you´ll get some delicious (and cheap) Chilean wine.