I woke before the sun, as I usually do, and went to the main house in search of coffee. The main house was dark and locked up. On my way back, I heard a familiar cry and found a small black cat on the back patio of the main house. The cat was very affectionate and we spent a few minutes together before the chill of the morning got to me. I had not brought my coat so I returned to our bungalow/cabin/suite accommodation. The cat followed about half way before being distracted by some small critter to hunt.

A note about coffee: I like good coffee and I like it early when I wake. Because I am (a bit of a / very much a) coffee snob, I am disappointed with what I receive a majority of the time. In hotels and accommodations in the US, most rooms have the means to make coffee, usually a Keurig machine or a basic drip coffee maker. In some hotels, the room may not have the means to make coffee but coffee is available in the lobby for late travelers to enjoy. In situations like this, the coffee is usually appalling but it is better than nothing.

During this trip, coffee has not been available at all until the breakfast component of bed and breakfast starts. Finca Azul was the only place that provided a hot pot to heat water for tea, but that was about as close as we have gotten to having something hot to drink at a whim.

The conclusion to this note is a lesson learned: Bring a french press, ground coffee, and possibly an electric hot pot with which to heat water. It will occupy valuable real estate in the suitcase but for me, I would regard it as an essential.

Breakfast at Posada Pasos de los Patos was disappointing. Although they did bring coffee, it was cheap coffee and upon finishing it, I received no more, despite having asked nicely, in Spanish.

Because we had the whole day to ourselves, we relaxed until midday when I found a pizza place in town for us to have lunch. Upon arrival, the pizza place had a CERRADO sign on the door (closed) but the place next door was open. Lorna and I shared a breaded pork cutlet, a salad, and a bottle of Torrontés, made in San Juan. The Torrontés was the star of the show.

During the lunch, a tiny striped cat prowled the edge of the cafe roof, meowing down at the patio diners, asking for handouts. Her cries did not go unanswered, as some of the diners brought her pieces of meat. The same could not be said for the three dogs who wandered around the patio tables.

A note about dogs and cats in Argentina: In every province that we have visited, dogs roam the streets and we find cats everywhere. People do own pets but there are just as many homeless dogs and cats with no animal control to keep the numbers down. Homeless animals just choose a place to live and try not to get killed by traffic. If the residents tolerate their presence and food is somewhat available, they stay. Every time that I have asked the staff about the name of a particular cat, the response is always “Gato sin nombre” (cat without a name) or just “El Gato”.

While relaxing on the back patio of our bungalow/cabin/suite, Lorna observed a Vaquero on a motorcycle, herding horses. We also observed a more or less traditional Vaquero  on horseback, but looking down intently at his mobile.

At 5:00 PM, we went to the main house for their tea service. During this time we were talking to our trip representative to find a wine tasting tour in Cafayate for next week. Surprisingly, there was little available and the costs were quite high: $300-400 US for a tour of three bodegas and lunch, not including the cost of tastings or lunch. We may just do all the logistics ourselves, which involves making calls or sending emails to determine availability for tastings on the days that we will be in Cafayate.

For supper, we drove the treacherous path back out to town and found the El Aleman Posada y Restaurante. Our dinner reservation was for 8:30 PM, which can be regarded as early in Argentina, because we were the only ones there. Some others showed up later on but it was just us for the first 30 minutes.

The restaurant appeared to be a husband and wife team, neither of whom spoke English. The cook did speak German, but we never saw him except for a glimpse behind the entryway to the kitchen. At one point, our host brought us bread with spicy mustard and I had to ask her about the senf, which is a German spicy mustard. She didn't know the word and had to ask her husband, who explained that senf in German is mostaza in Spanish.

The German sausage and sauerkraut was the star of the meal, which Lorna and I both ordered. There was an option for German goulash, which neither of us ordered. We gave the El Aleman a rating of tres estrellas.

Next up - Day 7: Barreal to La Rioja

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