“Pachamama,” said our driver, Orlando Condori. He took off his glass, pouring a colored wine on the sand.
“Si, La Pachamama!” He said everyone else, doing the same.
They looked at me.
“Pachamama!” I said as I threw half my drink on earth. I had no idea what I did or why I did it, but I did.
It was a shame. I had enjoyed the rose. Again, it wasn’t the worst idea – I was gloomy. So gloomy that I had to sit back.
“This is not the wine,” said Niki Barbery-Bleleyben, An Ambassador of Conservation for Prometa, an environmental organization that focused on community viability and durability. “This is the altitude.” We were in 3,500 meters, or about 11,000 feet.
We were at a table on a plateau overlooking the Organic Reserve Cordille de Sama in the southern part of Bolivia. We were in the high desert, the bright sun high above the head, with the view – everything. From our perch we could see under the extent of the Cordillera de Sama Mountains. Between us and what seemed to be the edges of the earth: sparse, empty, dust earth, a glittering lagoon with the imagination of Flamingo and so much sky that I had to fill my throat to find its edges.
The reserve is located in Tarija province, an agricultural area located in the corner of Bolivia bordered by Paraguay and Argentina. Tarija, which is also the name of the city in the province, is not large – only about 14,000 square miles, making it click larger than Maryland. But its topography is amazingly varied: forests, deserts, lakes, mountains, sun, rain, snow. It has pumas, alpacas and llamas, as well as three species of flamingos. This is the Bolivian wine country-a collection of half a dozen of the best known wineries in the world surrounded by a huge, untouched desert. Pour in a five -star resort and a celebrity wedding, and Tarija could be Tuscany.
With one side of magic.
“We are very spiritual in Bolivia,” said Dr. Barbery, who has a ph. D. in social policy. “We are rooted in various indigenous traditions dating from centuries.
This cosmovision explains the wine that is poured. “Pachamama” is a word that offers gratitude to Quechua and Aymara, which comes from the indigenous natives.
“It’s a way to thank Mother Earth,” Dr. Barbery explained as we loaded our tools at the back of the receipt for the two -day route back to Tarija, walking slowly to avoid the rush of the head.
Altitude
My girlfriend Lisa and I were to explore Tarija’s wine with Dr. Barbery and her girlfriend Julie. It turns out, if you know what you are doing, altitude is an essential ingredient for winemaking. “High altitude wines are now fashionable,” said Jurgen Kohlberg, owner of Bodega Tayna; a biodynamic vineyard Just outside the city of Tarija. Mr. Kohlberg’s vineyard star is Pinot Noir – one of the highest altitude Pinot Noirs in the world.
We were in 2,100 meters, almost 7,000 feet – and that wasn’t the only challenge.
“There is no ground,” he said, as we walked through his vineyard. In fact, the soil consists of tiny rocks called “Lajas”.
Mr Kohlberg, a little man with a white beard, has high ambitions. “My goal is to make the best pinot noir in the world,” he said, explaining that he only collects “at night in complete silence. It’s very magical, no?”
We returned to the mini Hacienda, Casa Tinto, on the other side of the city, thinking of Mr. Kohlberg and his quiet magic harvest. It is not surprising that it only makes 2,000 bottles per year.
The next morning, after the breakfast of Black Bolivian Coffee called Takei and Avocado Toast, we walked through the city to get some handmade woven things to bring home. Later, it’s time to visit Campos de Solana, perhaps the most intense vineyard in the area. Manicated trails, lavender shrubs, front doors 20 feet high – Campos de Solana could intimidate the most bougiest of Tuscany wineries.
“We should not have viticulture here. New Zealand in South Africa, Patagonia is in the southern zone in about 33 degrees,” said Luis Pablo Granier, the General Manager, referring to the latitude in which these countries are found. “Spain, France, Italy is the northern zone. We are in 21 degrees in Tarija, so wine makes no sense.” In other words, this latitude is usually very hot for winemaking. “But because of the altitude we can produce even if we should not be in a position.”
Like most wineries in Bolivia, the vineyards at Campos de Solana also produce a drink called Singani (in their case under the Casa Real label). Because it is distilled by wine, Singani is often compared to cognac or pisco, but with true faithful, he is alone in a class.
“I felt like I stumbled upon this jewelry that no one knew,” director Steven Soderbergh said when we talked about Zoom. In 2007, Mr Soderbergh partially filmed the film “Che” in Bolivia. “When I was first given Casa Real Singani, there was a three -step experience. It’s very floral and I’m not used to a spirit that has such a nose on it. Then you try it and is very complicated. And when you swallow it, no It was burning.
“When the Spanish colonized in Bolivia brought wine,” Bodega Kuhlmann Winery later explained. “But it spoiled when they arrived at the shore, so they had to depart the wine. This became a singani. It was a way of keeping the wine.”
Mr. Soderbergh was so taken with the drink THat in 2008 collaborated with Casa Real and created Singani 63 (Mr. Soderbergh was born in 1963), the first Singani introduced in the United States.
“I think there is an incredibly inaccurate belief on the part of people who have never gone to Bolivia, that it is a bit indefinable,” Mr Soderbergh said. “There is an incredibly living culture of food and drink. You get there and realize they have everything.”
Wine, Gastronomy and Neil Armstrong
A few days on our journey, we started to have everything.
Lunch at Atmósfera, the restaurant at Kohlberg Winery, was an outdoor affair. We sat at a table under the branch of a mulberry tree overlooking the acres of rich green vineyards. At distance, birds.
Our team had grown up in 10 – members of the Kohlberg family, friends, cousins, an executive wine or two. You could be forgiven that you think every Bolivian knows someone who is friends with a cousin or a neighbor. It’s a small part.
We started with homemade bread with wine butter.
“We use everything from respect for the planet,” said the chef, Pablo Cassab, who had passed to introduce his food. “Nothing goes to waste. If we peel a carrot, dry the peel and convert it into carrot powder. ”
“The gastronomic route to Bolivia passes through La Paz,” he said, referring to the country’s capital. “But as people learn about wine, they start learning about food. This leads to Tarija.”
Then the next lesson: Artichoke grill, Fried Broccoli Florets with crisp onions resting on a paste white beans. A moment later, a new wine: Stelar, a white Ugni grapes, the oldest vineyards in the vineyard. Stelar comes with its own trick party: the label changes the color with the temperature.
As the sunlight weakened, the air grew heavy, the bachansal ended. We returned to the truck as fat, deliberate rain falls on the windscreen.
It was amazing cold as we headed to Tarija for a stop at Tajzara, a tiny store that was not much larger than a closet full of handmade sweaters. A few Alpaca and Lama shawls later, we walked to Diabla, a high -degree boutique with an inspired neckline, cocktail dresses, woven bracelets and a small atelier on the back where every garment was done.
At another meal we were told a story that is often repeated in Bolivia. It is said that the American astronaut Neil Armstrong saw the country’s Uyuni Salt salt in the 4,000 square miles of the largest in the world, from the moon and thus took its beauty that was sworn in on a visit. (Later, with his family.)
Like Armstrong in front of me, I was surprised by Bolivia. So much of culture seemed unlikely. It has grapes that should not grow. Gastronomy to compete the best in South America, but much less well known; Rocky, punishing the ground that supports strong agriculture. This pocket of Earth inhabited by Llamas and Flamingo and History is so closer to the skies and deeply connected to its roots.
