I got to the Gregorio I and for a feed, was told to head to the new shopping mall. “It’s your only option,” said Martín the concierge. I sloped off, tick-ticking sights along the way. San Francisco Church, which is deceptively old looking, the cathedral, Cabildo and General Belgrano Square – not a drunk in sight, although plenty of Kirchneristas keen to remind me that Néstor is indeed alive on the first anniversary of the former president’s death.

Bog-standard mall fare awaited me on the second floor of the Annuar Shopping so I wandered back down Belgrano street to one of several taco joints I’d spotted. Un taco solito – just the one for AR$8 – freshly sizzled beef and then around 15 dips to shovel on top. I chose black beans, butter beans but none of the creamy sauces which looked like they’d been at their prime (rather like me) several hours ago.

Panza llena, corazón contento so off I wandered to see some more north-western history. I clambered up into a stunning old-school Club Social, all dark wood and pannelled walls, briefly wished I was a member knocking back a Fernet and coke and as I walked back down the pedestrianised area, realised just how many ladies’ slutty shoe stores there are in the capital of Jujuy province.

In Salta, a city with its fair share of cobbled streets, I had noticed women teetering about, wobbling, without a care in the world about their instability. But 97km north in S.S. de Jujuy, the more outrageously vertiginous the heels (tacos) have become, made out of plastic and other awful man-made materials that frankly look unsightly and impossible to even stand in – maybe it’s because the city is 1,259 metres above sea level, a whole 72 metres higher than sister la linda Salta, that the ladies feel the need to be higher.

Lame explanation? Sure, but I wanted to share tacos in all their evident forms near the Quebrada de Humahuaca. It’s just that for me, it’s well ‘ard to conquer high heels at the best of times, never mind on cobbled streets or in dry, arid mountain heat. Taco, taco? Best off eating one, me thinks. Over and out.

A stone’s throw (360km) south of Buenos Aires, a tenacious young land owner, Héctor Manuel Guerrero, made it his mission in 1917 to improve on 1,700 hectares of ever-shifting dunes which encompassed his inherited Dos Montes ranch. Thirty years later, he had accomplished that challenge: after using the estancia as a giant nursery, Guerrero had created a fledgling forest with more than 700,000 plants and trees.

For the rest of this story please check out The Real Argentina.

1. Gran Parrilla del Plata
Perú and Chile, San Telmo
Cow-hide seats and relaxed waiters who won’t hurry you over a lengthy dinner complement the juicy ribs at Gran Parrilla del Plata. Portions are fit for two and the recently extended steak house on a prominent San Telmo corner is buzzing with Argentines and foreigners alike. If there’s room for afters, give the chocolate-heavy dessert tasting menu a whirl – and get a taxi home. My local.

2. Cabaña Las Lilas
Alicia Moreau de Justo 516, Puerto Madero
One of Buenos Aires’ high-end steak houses, if not the swankiest, Las Lilas literally brings Aberdeen Angus and Hereford beef from its farms straight to its tables in Puerto Madero. Don’t be defeated by the whopping size of the T-bone steak (photo), a house specialty worth forfeiting breakfast and lunch for. Las Lilas’ encyclopaedic wine menu has won several awards from Wine Spectator so take advantage of your sommelier.

3. Costanera Sur
For a walk on the real side of life, head to the nature reserve and riverside path opposite Puerto Madero for a wander with the “porteños.” The sizzling smell of choripan - sausage slapped in bread and covered in lashing of a mildly spicy “chimichurri” sauce – cooking at roadside stalls will lead you into temptation without a doubt, but choose a stand you like the look of – and enjoy the moment along with all the others chomping and strolling.

4. Hernán Gipponi Restaurant
Soler 5682, Palermo Hollywood
While bleeding steak and an iron high might top your list of Buenos Aires priorities, a time will come when you might need a little fishy on your dishy. Give the lavish eight-step tasting menu a go at Hernán Gipponi’s restaurant in the Fierro Hotel and the world is almost your oyster. From perfectly grilled prawns, squid, paella and a fish of the day as well as a wine list compiled by Andrés Rosberg, head of Argentina’s sommelier association, this place truly is a catch made in heaven.

5. Museo de Casa Gardel
Jean Juares 735, Abasto
Before contemplating dancing an “ocho” move, make your way – without any eye contact – to the home of legendary singer Carlos Gardel who died in a plane crash in 1935 and whose house opened to the public in 2003. This museum offers an insight into El Zorzal’s (the song thrush) life with some rooms still perfectly preserved. Located in the Abasto neighbourhood, dip into any Peruvian restaurant after you’ve had your fill of tango and stock up on some refreshing “ceviche” – line-marinated seafood.

6. Cocina Sunae
www.cocinasunae.com
Although this is a magical closed-door restaurant – make a reservation and the address shall be revealed – which serves up exquisite pan-Asian delicacies, it’s a favourite with Argentines and foreigners alike thanks to its ever-changing menu designed by owner Sunae Wiseman. Think Filipino steamed pork, Thai shrimp salad and Pla Lard Prik – a succulent and Thai-style fish of the day – your mouth may be watering but leave room for the refreshing green tea ice cream.

7. Natural Deli
Rep. Árabe Siria 3090, Botánico
Doing exactly as it says on the tin, fresh and as much organic food as the chef can get his hands on is served up at this elegant café. Drop by for a filling Oriental steak salad, stuffed with seasonal goodness, an energy-boosting Blue Velvet smoothie to get you through the hot and hazy afternoons, or try and take away organic Colombian coffee with a chocolate muffin – the delicacies lining the shelves will keep you hanging around for a little bit longer.

8. Milión
Paraná 1048, Barrio Norte
Co-owned by award-winning TV presenter Ernestina Pais, the fabulous town house was converted into a bar and restaurant that serves up what has become a favourite cocktail (of mine), the basil daiquiri. Three floors of über-cool grandeur plus a luscious garden mean you can ramp up the decadence and slap on all your finery, or simply lounge about with a prime viewing seat at the bar to watch the international crowd have a good time while nibbling tapas.

9. Museo Evita
J.M. Gutierrez 3926, Botánico
Argentina’s most emblematic woman (sorry CFK), Eva Duarte de Perón had a museum opened up in her memory 50 years after she died and despite the fact it is extremely complete – covering her childhood through to her role as the nation’s First Lady – foodies should stop off at the divine restaurant which is steeped in history. Although around 60% of Argentines have Italian heritage, it can be hard to find risotto made with Arborio or Carnaroli rice in Buenos Aires (so simple!) but the Museo Evita Restaurante serves up a delectable mushroom risotto dish with perfect consistency – and the right rice. One of few places I’ve found with perfect risotto.

10. 0800 VINO
Tomás Anchorena 685
No Buenos Aires list would be complete without throwing yourself into the hands of an oenologist and Nigel Tollerman is the man to do it. Duck into his wine cellar for a tailored tasting among dozens of wines all just calling out for a new home. From blind tastings to nights dedicated to rosé, you can always make room in your suitcase for just one more bottle of Argentine malbec.

First published on Got Saga on January 28, 2010.

“We do this for us, for the pure enjoyment of it, plus it is completely free for anyone who wants to eat it,” says Milena Pomiés, one of the 90 or so guild members who breaks eggs and bears the 32-degree heat of the frying pan along with her five-year-old twin sons Jano and Siro, the guild’s youngest members, and her mum Silvia. “So it doesn’t really matter whether they come or not. Although one French town uses 16,000 eggs, those are cooked in two sessions, so we know ours is the biggest because we only use one pan.”

The annual event, now in its eleventh year, ties in with the founding of the French town, which celebrated its 125th anniversary last Friday. The party is an international affair, says Master of Ceremonies Eduardo de Castro. “You’re an English woman in a French town talking Spanish in Argentina and about to eat pasta made by an Italian,” he says prior to the welcome lunch which the guild is hosting for its 40 visiting French counterparts.

There are seven omelette guilds around the world: the Confrérie de l’Omelette Géant began in France 35 years ago in Bessières and Belgium, the US, former French colony New Caledonia and Canada also host the event. Although it is the newest, Pigüé’s guild actively promotes its French heritage by taking the omelette show on the road, and has visited Córdoba and Villa Carlos Paz among other cities. Bessières’ brotherhood has been involved with Pigüé’s party since its inception so it’s an ideal cultural exchange for the 40 French men and women to stay in the Argentine agricultural town which houses its own French Alliance as well as a Peugeot dealership.

MORNING HAS BROKEN. As dawn begins to break Saturday, although there is no sun rising, some older ladies on the coach start to chatter simultaneously with the birds outside. Their final destination is also Pigüé. “Oh yes, we’re going to ‘omeletear’,” says one, rather too enthusiastically for the time of day. Sleepily stepping off the coach an hour or so later at 7am, grumpy grey clouds nestle threateningly close to the hills: would rain call off play? Would all those eggs end up in a good home? In 11 years of extra large omelette-making in Argentina, it’s never been cancelled…

The giant omelette party is very much a community-focused one involving various generations and all its ingredients — 15,000 eggs, 150 kilos of ham and 20 combined kilos of spring onions, parsley and chives — are donated by local producers. From teachers to journalists and the local mayor, people from all walks of life are involved with the guild, some even coming from Bahía Blanca to participate, which is where the eggs also originate. Honouring the town’s French heritage on its anniversary, the 90 members start preparations a week before the cook-off to wash down the frying pan and remove the pig fat which has protected it from rusting over the past 50 weeks.

As the cook-off taking place on the first Sunday of December, work begins in earnest the day before. The herbs and ham require cutting and chopping, which even the twins Jano and Siro assist with. “If they didn’t enjoy it then they wouldn’t come,” says their mum. And of course, the giant frying pan on wheels needs to come down from its 90-degree angle in the air and be set up onto its tram line. Then the wood needs to be unloaded, the fire laid, the eggs broken and then blended by a giant (naturally) drill-like whisk, and of course 16 square metres of metal will need to be scrubbed down once every last piece of egg has been scraped from the pan and digested… but only if it doesn’t rain.

PAN-IC ATTACK. On chopping duty at Pigüé tennis club hall, the 12 women with their knives poised, are anxious. It’s Saturday afternoon, and water is bucketing down with some kind of vengeance to make up for the previous 10 years. One guild member says it’s never rained for the omelette party, and that the heavens normally open a day or two after the event. “Don’t let the farmers hear me say this but I really wish it wasn’t raining!“ she admits, referring to the appalling dryness of the local land. Nervously, one of them puts a nose round the door every few minutes to give an update, and once the chives have been dispensed with come the magic words: “the wind is coming from the south.” The clouds start to shift and word comes that the giant skillet is about to uncovered in the municipal park. The mood also shifts and the women turn to the task in hand, making short work of the ham and sighing over the more problematic parsley as they discard the yellowing leaves, only pausing to share mate. One lady picks up hammy scraps from the floor for her dog — everyone benefits from the giant omelette — and the hall permeates with chives, then parsley and finally spring onion.

The ground is surprisingly solid at the park, despite the 10mm of water that descended upon the town in two hours. Supported at a 90-degree angle, the frying pan which measures 4.5m in diameter reluctantly judders its way onto the grass and comes to rest on its rail track. Once the eggs are cooked it will then be wheeled away from the fire so the guild members can serve up the 8,100 portions. A few hours behind schedule, the cleaned pan is now out and the wood has been prepared, ready for an early start Sunday morning.

SUN-DAY. Could the day begin in any better way? The skyline is spotless, not a menacing cloudy puff in sight. Saturday is but a bad dream. Walking up to the municipal park, the eucalyptus trees’ scent is eclipsed by smoking fires as meat is slowly grilled for the unlucky few who won’t get a piece of egg. The frying pan has now been cordoned off and is surrounded by hundreds of spectators eagerly cheering the guild members on. By following the white chefs’ toques which are standing to attention despite the morning heat, whose wearers are all busy breaking eggs and pouring mixture into huge bowls, preparations have just begun.

Now, Pigüé’s annual party is called the giant ”omelette“ but it should be clarified that this is not of the flipping variety. Eduardo explains: ”In France, omelette actually translates as scrambled eggs, and the version that is flipped over — which traditionally has cheese and ham in it — is a Swiss omelette. It shouldn’t be confused with the Argentine ”omelet” which is similar to that.”

Talking while guild members are serving up thousands of cholesterol-laden portions (“We’ve run out of forks!” one says excitedly, Eduardo admits the rain gave cause for concern.

“The weather wasn’t very promising at all and it would have made it very difficult to place the frying pan onto its rails,” he says. Nodding towards the deep blue sky, he adds: “The forecast had said it would be cloudy, but that was just a forecast, wasn’t it? We really weren’t expecting such a sunny day, and neither were we expecting such a great response from all these people.” Attendance figures are officially confirmed by the number of plates used.

Back in 1999 there was some interest in the first cook-off, and Eduardo reckons this has increased ten-fold. Although they have always used the same pan, the guild needs to take into account the increasing numbers of portions year-on-year, although it won’t be investing in a new skillet.

“No, but we have been talking about raising its side so it’s taller and has greater capacity,” he says.

Making giant scrambled eggs, the only such dish on such a large scale served up in Latin America, and for free, takes team work although less organisation is required after 11 years as the guild is a perfectly oiled machine that knows what it’s doing. With five grand masters, three men and two women who are chosen by a secret ballot, offering their invaluable experience, Eduardo confirms that preparation really begins just the week before.

As it is the only such event on the continent, people travel from all over, including Santa Fe, Concordia and Entre Ríos, for their portion, and the French contingency is always supportive. However, Canadian colleagues are notably absent this year, probably because of the economic crisis and also swine flu, says one guild member. “We’ve made a big promise and now we need to keep it for 2010,” adds Eduardo.

EGGS-PERIENCE. Watching families and friends work together to satisfy the greater hunger of the masses (I, for one, didn’t breakfast on Sunday), it’s quite a sight to watch the scrambled eggs come together. Despite the enormity of the meal, it takes around 40 minutes before the grand masters decide the eggs can be served up and Pigüé cooks them substantially so they aren’t runny. “For the first few years we cooked them like the French do, quite liquid, but there was a lot of wastage which was a real shame,” says Graciela, Eduardo’s wife.

The guild members take turns scrambling the eggs before they are poured into the hot oil, switching in and out to stir it up with their enormous paddles — it’s a phenomenal team effort which is utterly efficient and they all have a jolly old time doing it. The Herald slips on some rubber gloves and gets stuck into cracking a dozen or so eggs (romper los huevos is a fabulous double entendre) and also takes charge of a paddle briefly: the heat was so intense alongside the skillet that combined with the blazing sun you could have fried an egg on my forehead.

And of course there’s the million-dollar question. What do giant scrambled eggs taste like? Given a more-than-ample portion (clearly I had “no breakfast” written all over me) and accompanied by a chunk of a three-metre baguette, the texture was firm but not too chewy, there was plenty of parsley and ham to give an overall taste sensation and it was extremely satisfying — nothing more passed my lips until 9pm that evening — although I would have added some salt (but I’m frequently accused of being rather Argentine with regards to my high sodium intake so that is not a criticism).

Essentially a show, the Pigüé giant omelette party is unique due to the dedication and love that goes into its production. With a huge cast and a larger audience, any show that simply draws to a close because its spectators get to eat it can only be classified as “eggstraordinary”.

About Pigüé
The valley town of Pigüé is in the south east of the Buenos Aires province 545km from the capital and 132km from Bahia Blanca, and was founded by French immigrants from the Aveyron area. Its name is taken from Pi-Hue which means “meeting point” or “place for assembly” in the Mapuche Indian language, and refers to the battle of Pihué which took place on February 15 and 16, 1858, a fight instigated by the Indians over claims regarding that particular area of land.

The guilds
France: Bessières (1973), Fréjus (1987)

New Caledonia: Doumbea (1984)

USA: Abbeville (1985)

Quebec: Granby (1988)

Belgium: Malmedy (1996)

Argentina: Pigúé (1999).

Ingredients
15,000 eggs weighing 55 grams each

150 kilos of ham

Around 20 kilos of parsley, spring onions and chives combined

Salt and black pepper

An unspecified quantity of sunflower oil, “so no one else can copy us and make it!” says Master of Ceremonies Eduardo de Castro.

First printed in the Buenos Aires Herald in November 2009.

But it took a visit to the Maritime and Prison Museum for this austral city to make sense. Located on the Beagle Channel, Ushuaia is in Tierra del Fuego province whose very name incites passion, desire and a need to conquer and unravel the mysteries that this Argentine island holds. And at 1,000km from Antarctica, closer still to Cape Horn, a home to pirates and prisoners, seals and penguins, Malosetti’s nephew, the guitarist Raúl, summed up the city’s beginnings, which start in 1896, in an interview. “Those inmates were the reason Ushuaia came into existence. Guards and security followed those prisoners. And then the prostitutes arrived.”

And although that is the simplistic reason for explaining the city’s foundation, the multi-functioning museum tells the stories of the almost-naked Yamana Indians who were forced into man-made clothes by colonists and died out within a matter of years, navigational dramas courtesy of steely sailors attempting to put their surname on a slice of the new world, pillaging pirates who felt protected by the Beagle Channel, the Norway-England battle to reach the South Pole first as well as the marine life which has always called Tierra del Fuego home, and of course the ball-and-chained prisoners who wore Xeneizes stripes and hacked down trees come rain or shine to build a railway line.

Man continues to try and outdo nature but after a mere six days in one of the toughest climates in the world and witnessing Ushuaia’s winter intensify, the best Man can do is attempt to keep up with it. But even the harshest of weather hasn’t keep music lovers away from the six-day jazz festival.

Photo by Horacio Sbaraglia
More info: http://www.jazzalfin.com.ar/
Part two to follow, if, of course, the World Cup doesn’t get in the way.

Full story on Wednesday’s paper (January 13, 2010).

Photo courtesy of David Collett.

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Around 15,000 eggs go into this monster.

Appearances can be deceptive. Judging by the vast number of exhibitors at the annual Feria de Turismo Internacional (FIT) at Palermo’s La Rural, tour operators are clearly oblivious to the financial crisis as are travellers keen to check out destinations. Unless, of course, that is as close as they are likely to get to seeing the Pyramids or the Eiffel tower over the next 12 months…

Closing on November 17, the fair dominated various pavilions at the exhibition centre for four days. Aimed at both the traveller and the professional, the weekend attracted thousands of visitors, who took advantage of free pisco drinks at the Peru stand, warrior dancing courtesy of Chile and fancy leather baseball caps given away by the Patagonia city of Bariloche. According to FIT’s website, over the course of the fair more than 80,000 visitors wandered their way through Argentina, Brazil and Uruguay, the Caribbean and Central America and other international destinations with ease.

According to FIT, 1,788 exhibitors participated in order to tempt both tourist and tour agent into taking up their destinations. Argentina’s sector was the largest with most of the provinces’ tourism boards in attendance as were individual resorts such as Pinamar and Mar del Plata, beach destinations looking to kickstart summer 2010.

North American Allen Graziadei, who lives in Buenos Aires city and went to FIT on Saturday, said: “Corrientes had a rather grand display as they paraded through the venue in full Carnival kit and banged on their drums. It was pleasant, if perhaps a bit awkward, to watch half-naked ladies in glittery head gear strutting their stuff in front of the typical polo shirt-wearing trade show crowd.”

He added: “However, the Puerto Madryn stand explained really well when the best times to visit would be to see specific types of animals and when would be best to get some good photos without too many tourists around.”

In the international section, both Taiwan and Egypt emphasised that 2010 will see a push into the Latin American markets. Elsayed M. Khalifa, consul and director of the Egyptian Tourist Authority in New York, confounded fears about the risk of terrorist attacks. He said that tourism is the number-one revenue source for the Arab nation, and that Egyptians absolutely appreciate that. He added that tourists should, of course, consult their local bureau of consular affairs before travelling anywhere.

THE TIME IS NOW. But one destination that totally captured my imagination, as well as my appetite, is in Argentina and its event of the year is fast approaching.

A starvation and a cholesterol health check are mandatory preparation for a weekend away to Pigüé in the Buenos Aires province. Why? The French town will be hosting its annual Giant Omelette party, where the Brotherhood of the Knights of the Giant Omelette will be have a cracking good time breaking open 15,000 eggs (that’s 1,250 dozen) to cook up in a frying pan measuring an impressive four metres in diametre.

The valley town of Pigüé is in the south west of the province 545km from the capital, and was founded by French immigrants from the Aveyron area. Its name is taken from Pi-Hue which means “meeting point” or “place for assembly” in the Mapuche Indian language, and refers to the battle of Pihué which took place on February 15 and 16, 1858, a fight instigated by the Indians over claims regarding that particular area of land.

The first such eggstravangza took place in 1999 on the first Sunday of December to commemorate the founding of the town on December 4, 1884, and the event is overseen by the brotherhood. Sixteen teams of four members first pour in 30 litres of oil and then constantly move the mix around for a good 20 minutes (now you see why a pre-Pigüé cholesterol health check is necessary?).

Not only do the local chickens offer up their produce but so do the local pigs: some 100 kilos of ham make it into the frying pan, as do three kilos of green onions, four kilos of parsley and five kilos of chives, and each year, the town’s tourism board, which had a stand at FIT, assured me that an eggstra special ingredient is added to spice up this bad boy. An obvious addition to the mix would be cheese but for once bovine products don’t enter the equation for two reasons. First, the cheese-and-ham omelette has its origins in Switzerland and this event is all about French heritage, and second, cheese aggressively sticks to the pan, creating even more mess. Which beg(g)s the question: who washes up this enormous skillet?

In case you think this food festival is some kind of bad yolk, fear not, three-metre baguettes are baked especially for the occasion to mop up your free meal. That’s right, your portion is free, although dessert is not on the house. And if you’re still peckish, plenty or barbecued meat is available from the Municipal Park where the party takes place.

But there’s a moot point: how do the 16 teams flip an omelette? Well, it‘s all in the translation. Omelette, to the good people of Pigüé, means scrambled egg, and should not be confused with “omelet” which does in fact mean omelette of the flipped variety in English.

Confused? All you can do is get your cholesterol levels checked out and head to the valley town for December 6 with an appetite verging on unhealthy to claim your share of the 8,100-portioned omelette.

This trip was organised fun, a tour operator taking five coach loads of fun seekers to the world’s third-largest Oktoberfest, and the idea of obligatory activity participation in the search for frolics and fun is less than appealing. Fortunately, our three-day weekend was disorganised fun from the start: first, we went to the wrong pick-up point on Friday in Plaza San Martín and then our tickets and itinerary were stashed away at the bottom of our team leader’s suitcase, which was buried underneath everyone else’s luggage. (Rich was first in line, so keen was he to get this show on the road.) Boarding the coach was touch and go, given that the drivers weren’t prepared to begin excavating for anybody…

The last package tour I took was to Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast in 1998, so despite bad thoughts directed towards enforced volleyball games and obstacle courses, it was refreshing to allow someone else the helm, just for a few days. I haven’t unearthed any statistics as to the number of alcohol-related Oktoberfest accidents per year, but health insurance was also included in the deal. But that wretched itinerary was nowhere to be found so meal and bus times involved guesswork, and to top it off the six of us hadn’t the least idea as to where we were actually heading. A genuine magical mystery tour ending some 10 hours later.

WHERE IN THE WORLD? Córdoba province was destination in general at some 770km from Buenos Aires, and despite a hazy guess of an estimated arrival time between nine and 11 in the morning from the co-ordinator, we rumbled up a two-km drive at precisely nine-oh-two in Villa del Dique, a half-hour drive from Villa General Belgrano, the heart and soul of Oktoberfest. This Bavarian-style town’s numbers swell from 6,000 to around four times that over the two-week Oktoberfest period as revellers from Argentina and other nooks of the world looking to down some beers in the garden head there.

So what makes the Córdoba province town’s festival, now in its 46th year, so popular? Founded by Paul Heintze and Jorge Kappuhn in the 1930s, the physical landscape is pure Bavaria: Villa General Belgrano is a small town nestling in the Calamuchita valley with that typical Germanic geometrical architecture of square church steeples, cones atop roofs and plenty of wood. But residents’ roots don’t just stem from Deutschland but also Austria, Switzerland, Russia and Hungary, so the blend of pageant participants who dance and sing and play their hearts out is truly international – and it’s this racial mixture that makes Argentina’s Oktoberfest stand out from Munich’s. Besides the designated beer garden, the whole town turns into a watering hole (although it is illegal to walk down the street with a beer in hand) and it has an intimate feel to it, although you are sharing this little piece of southern hemisphere Bavaria with thousands of other boozers. The added bonus, thanks to its compact size, means that it’s practically impossible to get lost, no matter how drunken your haze.

WILL RAIN STOP PLAY? Shipped into Villa General Belgrano late Saturday afternoon, no sooner than we stepped off the bus than the heavens well and truly delivered. Our group, comprising four Brits, a North American and an Argentine, brazened it out as we weaved our way down the street. Squelching along in flip-flops, I reflected that at least my footwear would dry out quickly. A white minibus roared up next to us. “Come on, get in,” the driver shouted. We threw away our barely smoking cigarettes and clambered on, sitting on laps or anywhere there was a space, happy to be getting closer to our goal of the sacred beet garden. That little act of generosity was a sure sign of things to come, and the nature of going drinking in Villa General Belgrano. These guys simply loaded up their bus with strangers, happy to help and make new friends. We didn’t see them again, although they also gave a lift to some guys staying in Villa del Dique with us who did keep popping up. By coincidence, on the walk down to the beer garden on San Martín street, I bumped into a South African friend who had been on the sauce since lunchtime, and was headed home as the clouds decided to play ball.

Our organised fun providers had already given out admission tickets so there was no need to queue to pay the $30 entrance, the price for the final weekend. A quick frisk and we were walking under the famous Oktoberfest sign and into the beer garden! The plan was to head directly to one of the many wooden stands selling sausages bursting at the seams and laden with chucrut and fill our jugs with the main reason for our being there: beer. But two metres in and we were drawn to the very first hut that was selling red, black and yellow belts to sling diagonally across your body and then attach your glass to. “I want one,” Verónica and I said, as if we were one. At $15, it seemed a great souvenir to show the grandchildren although on reflection pointless, given that the aim of my game was to have a foamy and frothy jug on the go, not a barren, empty one with a musty smell of hops. A cowboy hat plus tankard plus belt combo were snapped up for a reasonable $40 by both Vero and Harry.

REASON FOR EXISTENCE. The grassy beer garden had taken a hammering with the downpour, and there was plenty more to come. As we finally got to a beer stand, down it came again, and people were grabbing white plastic chairs and covering themselves with light-blue plastic sheets as makeshift protection. Only those who I’d call smug foreigners, prepared for every travelling eventuality, were wearing sensible outdoor coats to beat off the unexpected elements.

Turns out the rain wasn’t unexpected at all and everyone I met knew it always rained on the second Saturday of Oktoberfest. So why hadn’t anyone mentioned that to us? In the end it was all part of the disorganised fun, as the men in our group built a variety of Wendy house out of tables and trestles, we women cleaned and dried the seats and the group of six took up residence. I was thankful for the allocated health insurance when a “roof” fell on my head although it may have simply knocked some sense into me.

Being unprepared for a storm sounds like no fun at the best of times, but frankly it couldn’t have worked out any better. Harry and I wandered off to watch the outstanding Russian male dancers buck and leap about on stage – my word, what admirable upper-arm strength – and I started chatting to a student journalist about said upper-arm strength. Once my half-litre tankard of porter beer had run dry (refills varied between $15 and an outrageous $25 depending on the stand) and my new drinking partner had reached the end of his one-and-a-half litre lager ceramic jug (refill $60), we headed back to camp to find a new bunch of friends taking refuge, some kilted, shivering Cordobeses chatting animatedly about The Beatles and conversely, death metal. Our Wendy house was a good ‘un and attracted a surprisingly eloquent mix of people to pass through its non-existent doors.

By dark, Oktoberfest had morphed into a miniature Glastonbury, that most famous of muddy music festivals, and all those people who had put on their best white trainers for the occasion would be regretting it by dawn. But that didn’t stop the good times from rolling, oh no, there was dancing and jigging with jugs, and beer bongs (a sliced plastic bottle with a funnel attached), and the small crowd braving the rain at the front of the stage roared their approval at the Russians. Nobody’s spirits were dampened.

MORE BEER, DEAR? Once the rain relented and the threat of squatters moving in had passed, it was time to find pastures new. To the right of the main stage were some independent breweries, including local companies Interlaken (red, dark beer), Viejo Munich (double bock, honey and strawberry), Brunnen (fruit beer, lager, honey) and Cassaro from Córdoba city (pilsen, stock, red), which all specialise in artesenal beers. More recognisable brands included the Mar del Plata microbrewery Antares, which will open up a bar in Pinamar this summer, and Duff, the fictitious beer drunk by Homer Simpson now turned into reality by some enterprising Argentines. Dave bought a litre of Duff strawberry beer for $35, overly sweet for his palate, but I managed to help him out with it substantially. Mmm, beer.

When drinking at Oktoberfest one needs a tankard and not a family heirloom which is bound to end up in smithereens. Try to take one that denotes an experienced drinker, one with a lid or a musical one. Something attention-grabbing. We’d been on a pre-Oktoberfest shopping spree in San Telmo to pick up some original ceramics but needless to say my dreams were shattered Saturday night when a guy staggered into me and my tankard, which was swinging about at hip level (and I’m damn certain it wasn’t the other way round). The indignity of treading on my own broken tankard and cutting the sole of my left foot remains with me three days later.

Bella had in her possession a charming chunky moss-green tankard, which she managed to convince most of the bar staff measured just 330ml. The same capacity as a can of coke, she could top up for $10 a pop, but remains convinced it was a bottomless pit, a deceptive half-litre jug. Strong as an ox, that little green baby made it back to BA safe and sound.

My San Telmo find, however, was replaced Sunday with a brand new one for the price of $18. The weather was now impeccable and despite the infamous second Saturday Oktoberfest downpours, a precise 49,438 tickets had been bought up by Sunday, the day before Oktoberfest shut up for another year.

Organised fun meant that there simply wasn’t enough time to wander the streets or celebrate the different nations’ traditions: our emphasis was strictly drinking and we had a timetable to stick to.

But socialising in the enormous beer garden gave us the chance to meet and make merry with people from all over Argentina, all friendly, happy, charming and interested in the four Brits, the North American and the Argentine and why we were at Oktoberfest together. Although we didn’t see as many parades or dance shows as we should have, plenty of new friends were introduced to traditional British drinking games such as “21” and “I’ve Never.” If Oktoberfest is about anything, it’s about an exchange of culture and we certainly played our part in that.

Revellers reveal:
Chris from the US: “This is my first time at the Córdoba Oktoberfest and Saturday, my first day, as far as I recall, was fairly epic. There was a lot of pre-party which is a bit foggy but the set-up was great although the weather was touch and go. There was a lot of mud and I was watching my step where I walked. I tried about six beers but Antares was my favourite. We also did some post-partying at a warehouse in ruins that had been converted into a disco. Now I’m on the second day and I think I might make it to about 4am. We North Americans tend to peak earlier than the Latinos.”
José from Buenos Aires province: “This is the first day I’m here and I am with some friends on a stag do. In fact they’re just buying beer right now. I think it’s good that people aren’t allowed to drink in the street because whatever can ensure everyone’s safety is fine. I don’t know if there were problems previously, but it’s good that it is all very civilised.”

All photos by Christopher Harry Kemp.

Seeing as Villa General Belgrano, a small town in the province of Córdoba, was founded by two Germans just over 80 years ago, it makes perfect sense that there’s an annual beer festival to celebrate Bavarian heritage. In fact the first Oktoberfest in Munich was held in 1810, the same year that Argentina gained independence.
It’s easy to see why they set up new lives there: the Alpinesque valley-based settlement which around 6,000 residents now call home, receives 300 days of sun a year and is agriculturally rich.
Those pioneering footsteps were quickly followed up by Austrian, Swiss and Hungarian immigrants keen to move to a similar central-European looking landscape, and these new landowners adapted quickly, raising families and continuing to observe their own traditions.
Although on the surface this may appear to be an alcohol-fuelled occasion — indeed it is the  third-most important Oktoberfest in the world after Munich and Blumenau in Brazil, it is mainly an opportunity for the local communities to get together, don their regional costume and celebrate their heritage. Expect dancing and merry-making from orchestras and troupes from Poland, Armenia, Palestine as well as Mexico, Saudi Arabia, Syria and the Ukraine. Not to be missed is the Ballet Kolomeia, a group of Ukrainian dancers who squat on the floor then leap onto their fellow dancer’s shoulders, maintaining perfect balance.
The Argentine version of the beer festival is now in its 46th year, and events and the official opening takes place this Friday, October 2. The first day will include music and dance as well the inauguration of the national festival (see below).
Traditional German fare will naturally be served up, so get ready to tuck into Frankfurt sausages, smoked pork ribs and sauerkraut, followed up by Black Forest cake.
Okay, don’t be fooled by dances and cuisine — it is all about the alcohol, which is exactly why my flatmates and I are heading north for the second, busier weekend. An important tip from Get Out! editor and old Oktoberfest hand Pablo Toledo: “Take your own beer glass, otherwise you’ll pay through the nose for the official mug. A beer’s a beer, after all.” Should you be tempted into purchasing one as a souvenir, don’t forget that size matters. The bigger the mug obviously means larger quantities of alcohol are poured in each time you top up therefore more pesos are splurged.
A pleasing 25 degrees is predicted this opening weekend, and although it’s a touch early to predict how the weather will be treating revellers next weekend, spring is here and the hills will be alive with the sound of music and clinking glasses for the next 12 days.

Day 1 of Oktoberfest: October 2

2pm The Parque Cervecero beer park opens. Featuring central European music throughout the course of the day.
6pm Adolfo Meza from Paraguay.
6.40pm Las Majas from Spain.
7.15pm Ballet Kolomeia from the Ukraine.
7.55pm Dance Centre from Ireland.
8.15pm Parades in the main streets held by invited delegations: Monje Negro, Salchichardos, Aldeanos, Carrozas, Orquesta, Oktoberfest Argentina Queen 2008 and National Beer Festival Queen candidates for the 46th Oktoberfest Argentina.
9pm Die Biermusikanten Orchestra (central European music).
9.10pm. Official inauguration.
9.40pm Central European Enzian Body of Dance.
10.10pm Die Biermusikanten Orchestra (central European music).

Where & when: 46th National Beer Festival, Villa General Belgano, Córdoba province. Friday 2, Saturday 3, Sunday 4, $20 per person per day. Entrance is free during the week. Friday 9, Saturday 10, Sunday 11, $30 per person per day. Visit www.elsitiodelavilla.com/oktoberfest

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