A front row seat on my 18-hour bus ride delivered me from Northern Argentina to the West of this enormous country, during which time I met two girls who had been learning Spanish in Buenos Aires and decided to take a tour of the country before leaving.

Before extricating myself from the body imprint I left in the chair after such a long time, we made plans to meet up that night and I set off to find my hostel. I booked it prior to my arrival because travelling without a guidebook (throughout South America actually) I wasn't sure what my resources would be in this wine capital. Luckily it was quite ready for tourists and the man behind the counter offered me a smile, a map and directions to the hostel.

That was the good news. I wish I had not booked a bed here: six people to a dorm in the basement, a door that constantly creaked and slammed, a cockroach in the shower and toilets that didn't flush. I was not a happy camper, but was so tired after the bus ride I could not be bothered to try and find somewhere else to live. (I believe many hostels in this part of the world depend on weary backpackers who cannot be ars*d to move, and so offer the bare minimum).

Two rays of sunshine in the dirty basement were a couple of German guys who were also on the same quest to try drunken pedal biking to taste the wine of the region. I mean this is WHY backpackers migrate here – the wineries that dot the Maipu Valley about a half hour away and the Dark 'n' Stormy-type trail possible between said wineries in a day (with the same results I might add).

After formulating plans for the next day I set off to meet the two girls from the bus for dinner. Mendoza could easily be transplanted to Italy or Spain with its wide, tree-lined boulevards, pedestrianised streets, pavement cafes and restaurants and parks. It is also a town that caters to all levels of tourism – from backpackers with little to their names, to those who have the budget for fine dining and a wine experience that does not include pedal bikes.

For dinner we (me and the two girls from the bus) found outside dining the way to go. Located right next to a bus stop we were a little unnerved, but dinner proved to be thoroughly enjoyable as did the random wine we selected from the menu. After a quick drink at a second location on the street (apparently the only way to hang in Mendoza as the crowds enveloped most free space on these wide sidewalks), I bid them farewell and set off for my basement dorm and to retire for the next days' activities (so glad I did).

I was up at 6 a.m. thanks to the owner's drunken friends and a radio that randomly turned itself on. Apparently the only one who could be bothered to turn it off, I found the two men passed out on the couches. Ahhh I'm so glad I chose this hostel. Luckily the Germans were not too far behind (waking up that is) and we booked it for the bus that would deliver us to the Maipu Valley and Malbec country. Heaven.

We had to have exact change for the bus so after a few stops at corner stores to buy mints all three of us were ready. Just a side note Argentines LOVE change. Or so it would seem. There never is any. While in England you can't get rid of it fast enough, in Argentina it is like winning an Oscar. When you receive some coins you thank the store clerk (I mean you REALLY have to thank the clerk who would rather turn away business than give you his or her change) and the people who came before you and selflessly sacrificed their coins. And then you spend the next five minutes relishing in the beauty of the gold hue. No couch cushions being moved in this country. There is just no change. Don't ask me why. I don't know and no amount of asking produced results. It's just the way it is in Argentina. Basta.

OK, enough of my ranting. Our bus ride dropped us near Mr. Hugo's rentals where the family business got us started right with a glass of wine before even boarding the bikes (do they have insurance?).

While we were finishing our first and definitely not last glass, a couple from North American also staying at our five-star hostel arrived, and we ended up joining forces. The five of us set off with maps and a prayer that drunk biking was not an offence. The first winery was closed. Second stop? An eight kilometre or so ride away. At least we got the longest ride done first. At this winery (as with all of them) we suffered through a tour before the important part – tasting the wine.

We hit three more wineries picking up two bottles of wine along the way. No fear to be shared among five of us, though wine in this part of the world has a higher percentage of alcohol than in others. This is due to the vast amount of sunshine and higher altitude which together, produce a lot of sugar in the grapes. Fine by me!

Four hours after we started our last stop was where else? The chocolate and olive oil factory!!! Talk about an indulgent day. What freaked us out though was as we started for the rental place a police car pulled out and crept along slower than us – five drunkards on bikes. What a creep! We were all sure we were going to be in the Argentine clinker that night rather than enjoying the one bottle of wine we had left. Besides just freaking us out, the copper was actually hired to ensure we arrived at Mr. Hugo's in one piece and with all of our belongings (stealing, as you can imagine, would be high here with drunken tourists with cameras).

We survived our wine tasting to arrive in Mendoza by taxi (me on the laps in the back) to enjoy a Mexican dinner and our bottle of wine before crashing. I had an 8 a.m. bus the next morning which required a very early call, which surprisingly I made.

I was on my way to Valparaiso (a coastal town in Chile renowned for its coloured houses. So, of course I had to see if it matched home). The only problem was the border crossing. While entering Argentina by land is no problem, Chile is hung up about any food that might be imported. The crossing here is also over 3,000 metres above sea level and amongst the snow-capped Andes mountains. Fun at any time. A sheer joy after a day of wine indulgence.

Disembarking from the bus, I was shuffled from the Argentina out desk to the Chile in box before reclaiming all of my bags from the bus.

Then, like naughty school kids, the entire bus was forced to line up behind two long tables placed for our belongings.

Do you have any food on you? Milk, fruit, vegetables? said an overly friendly customs officer (you know, the whole good cop/bad cop scenario). Of course this exchange was given in Spanish first, then English and well probably any language you wanted to ensure they could nab you when they found out you were lying.

No sir. Nothing. Oh crap I have peanut butter. Would that count? I didn't know and I wasn't going to pay a $1,500 fine for crushed nuts. I ran to the trash can before watching some poor women pulled in front of the room for a slap from the ruler and to be reprimanded for dried lentils. Who knew lentils could be a security threat?

We eventually made it to Valparaiso and luckily, after my last hostel experience, I found a lovely coloured and clean room in a tiny four-floor location. The woman who answered the door seemed slightly unhinged but she took one look at my exhausted face and gave me a single for no extra cost.

I was in love! I spent the next few days enjoying having some of my own space, found a store with gluten-free food and cooked, while wandering this city.

I love Chile. Have I said that before? Such a change from Argentina. While run down, and definitely poor, the town of Valparaiso was so inviting. The people were always up for a joke and even enjoyed my broken Spanish (or well they at least humoured me). Unfortunately, I was not that impressed with the houses and the colours (they had a lot to live up to) so after a couple of days of pure relaxation I decided to head to Santiago.

A friend, Dan, was going to be in town with some of his buddies for their trip around Chile. It was great to catch up and have another infusion of familiarity before I had to head off for the last leg of my trip Machu Picchu.

Next stop: A plane from Santiago to Buenos Aires to Lima (in one day).