Where there was no hope, he brought hope. 29.12.12.

Where there was no hope, he brought hope.

Firstly, let me set the scene. I came to South America knowing it was a 'beer desert'. And as I write that what strikes me is just how utterly daft I was. What on earth was I thinking? Perhaps Sarah doped me like BA in the A Team.

Anyway, I knew this fact; there is no decent beer in South America.

But...... Today we came to the end of the dirt section of routa 40, tarmac taking us smoothly into the village of San Carlos. It is the sort of place every traveller wants to find; the tourists do not stop as they head straight to the wine town of Cafayata only 20k down the road, so the plaza and cafes are populated by the locals. Working gauchos arrive in the plaza on horseback, even parents carry their children around on the saddle infront of them.

We immediately liked San Carlos.

We sat at a small cafe and I spied a different beer bottle in the glass-fronted fridge....Moving closer I realised I was looking at a range of 'artisanal' beers from that very town.

I tried one, then another. And I rejoiced! A Belgium gent (and he was a real gent) Alain - was brewing Belgium style beers at his hacienda, La Vaca Tranquila (the sleepy cow), on the edge of town. Only 1.5kilometers away. 9 beers in total from a refreshing 6% to the Rochefort-esque Lunes at 11%.

 

The beer was good, very good, and I gave thanks. Alain had given me hope. For where there is one who brews, there may be a second, or a third.....

Hallelujah!

And so it came to pass that we stayed at his wonderful hacienda for two wonderful nights. And my cup runneth over....and my head was soreth.

 

 

(Me echo la Burro means 'my falling down donkey').

 

Never run with scissors.