Mendoza, Seven Years in Tibet

I am well adapted to high altitudes, and love alpine skiing, but I am bad at drinking. In the winter, I came to Mendoza, the world-famous region that produces Malbec wine. Scaling the mountain peak, hitting the slopes, or touring wineries— what activities should I engage in to kill time?

In 2016, the southern hemisphere experienced a mild winter. By late June, even the high-altitude ski resorts in southern Argentina had not opened, let alone those in central Mendoza. Thirsty for knowledge, I decided to do some on-site learning about agricultural practices related to geography and geology.

The undulating snowy peaks of the Andes, which are more than 5,000 meters above sea level, delineate a complex border between Chile and Argentina. They also block the eastward movement of moist Pacific air currents, leaving the northern and central regions of Argentina located on the east side of the border dry throughout the year. However, unlike the mountainous areas in the American state of Utah in the north, the valleys around Mendoza should supposedly be arid deserts. But, the area is renowned in the New World for producing wine thanks to the abundance of pure glacial meltwater and loose sandy soil conducive to grape cultivation.

Most of the foreigners without professional mountaineering skills come to Mendoza primarily for its fine wines, a trend that dates back to the region's earliest settlers. In the mid-16th century, Spanish settlers arrived in the province with the intent of colonizing and developing the land. Having faced frequent sandstorms, they drew parallels between this terrain and La Rioja, a region in their homeland renowned for winemaking. With a hint of nostalgia, they identified this part of the New World as “Mendoza City located in the Rioja Valley”. Irrigation channels, strategically built along the snowmelt's path, breathed life into the imported grapevines. Adaptive production techniques were employed and it took years before Mendoza shot to fame globally for its Malbec wines.

On this land that enchanted the colonizers, their descendant – José de San Martín the Liberator – meticulously trained a 5,000-strong “Army of the Andes” composed of Black and mixed-race individuals over the course of two years since 1814. Crossing the towering mountains, they caught the Spanish garrison in the Chilean capital, Santiago, off guard and defeated them, transforming the war of independence in South America from defense into an unstoppable offensive. Simón Bolívar and San Martín, two great liberators of South America, took divergent paths after expelling the colonizers. One became deeply engrossed in the pursuit of power, while the other chose to retire to his homeland.

Interestingly, the subsequent generations seem compelled to reflect the contrasting personalities of Bolívar and San Martín and the differences in the naming of squares after them. In cities across northern South America, Bolívar Squares typically serve as the geographical point zero of the urban core. In contrast, San Martín Squares in the southern cities tend to be tucked away in a corner, relinquishing the central spot to “Independence Square.” Mendoza of the “Southern Alliance” is no exception. The five squares in its city center are akin to a five-sided die, with “Independence” in the center, and “San Martín,” “Spain,” “Italy,” and “Chile” each claiming the remaining four sides.

Today, 70% of Argentina's wines come from the surrounding areas of Mendoza, with those from the two large wineries in Uco Valley and Luján de Cuyo being the finest. I chose to visit Maipu, which was closer. I rented a bicycle and set off along the bustling provincial road, passing by numerous small and medium-sized wineries and olive oil mills. In this region, family-owned wineries like Cechin only have less than two acres of vineyards. They cultivate both varieties of Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon and are strategically surrounded by expansive peach orchards to shield the vines from harmful pests.

Touring wineries and wine tasting may be enlightening, but both pale in comparison to the depth of knowledge I gained from documentaries like “Mondovino.” It's a mournful film with the iconic accusatory line, “wine is dead.” To highlight his objectivity, the director points fingers at various targets that rigidly adhere to the diverse old-world terroir, including Burgundy, and criticizes such adherence for perpetuating class distinctions. The film also takes aim at the most influential wine critic Robert Parker, whose long-standing dominance in the publication “The Wine Advocate” breaks the ancient nobility’s monopoly of the industry by democratizing it but, in the process of aggressive global commercialization, leads to a form of dictatorship on taste, which is exemplified by regions like Napa Valley and Mendoza.

Generally speaking, the higher one goes, the better the scenery will be. As the provincial capital, Mendoza sits at a modest elevation of only 746.5 meters. However, heading westward from here, traversing mountains along the RN7 cross-border highway en route to Santiago offers breathtakingly crisp landscapes that emerge with ascension.

I signed up for a one-day westward tour. Ascending gradually, after about a two-hour drive, we reached the mountain valley town of Uspallata at an altitude of 2,039 meters. This dilapidated town only has a few streets and is surrounded by mountains exceeding 5,000 meters. A coffee bar with a signboard written with big words that spelled “Tibet Bar” situated prominently at a crossroad caught my eye. The decorative symbols on the façade of the stone columns seemed to resemble Inca motifs more.

Surprisingly for many film enthusiasts, the 1997 historical masterpiece “Seven Years in Tibet,” directed by the renowned French filmmaker Jean-Jacques Annaud and starring Brad Pitt, was entirely shot right here in Uspallata .

Firstly, it's conceivable that the Chinese government would never permit the shooting of a film like 'Seven Years in Tibet,' which narrates the friendship between an Austrian mountaineer and a young Dalai Lama and is laden with historical antagonism, on its own territory. Secondly, the extensive film crew had considered shooting in Ladakh, a region on the other side of the Tibet border in Indian-controlled Kashmir. However, according to the description under the “Production” heading of the movie's Wikipedia entry, the Chinese government pressured the Indian government, threatened to cut off the power supply to the shooting locations and refused to allow the film crew to open a bank account. It's puzzling why a film shot in India would be subject to such control over electricity and banking matters by China.

One of the producers who is familiar with the Argentinian highlands recommended it to Annaud. The film crew swiftly adjusted their shooting plans and spent a full four months filming in the province of Mendoza. It wasn't until after the release of “Seven Years in Tibet” that the director revealed having sent two separate teams to Tibet as tourists to collect materials for filming that will last approximately 20 minutes. Surprisingly, this 'daring offense' didn't hinder Annaud from later becoming an artist welcomed by the Chinese government. In 2012, he served as the jury president for the Shanghai International Film Festival and was subsequently invited to direct another major film set against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, titled “Wolf Totem."

On one side, there's Aconcagua, the highest peak in the western and southern hemispheres at 6,961 meters; on the other side, there's Mount Everest, the highest peak in the eastern and northern hemispheres at 8,844 meters. Given the similarity in their high-altitude landforms, it is convincing to disguise Mendoza as Tibet. However, what about Tibet’s unique urban features and its irreplicable Buddhist architectures?

After all, the film has a well-funded and extensive production team. Its capable production designers quickly erected a 200-meter-long replica of Lhasa at the foot of the Andes. Additionally, they transformed an abandoned garlic warehouse on the outskirts of Mendoza into an 840-square-meter replica of the Potala Palace. Unfortunately, the buildings were left vacant after the departure of the film crew and they were not preserved as tourist attractions.

In subsequent summers, the local government and cultural departments organized the Wine Film Festival (Vino el Cine) at around 20 wineries. In 2018, they established a local Reciprocal Guarantee Society – akin to a bond insurance company – designed to underwrite financing of up to US$3.4 million yearly for 20 productions shot in the province. However, Mendoza has never attracted a major production like “Seven Years in Tibet.”

The snow forecast turned out to be deceiving. During the course of the one-day tour, the relatively small Los Penitentes ski resort had opened its slopes. A not-too-steep blue piste, curved out from the depths of a valley, is reminiscent of the opening scenes of “Seven Years in Tibet,” where two Austrian Nazis escape from a British POW camp and traverse mountains to reach Tibet. If I had waited a while longer, would I see a weary Brad Pitt at the top of the ski slope, and would the Dalai Lama be seated inside Mendoza's “Potala Garlic Warehouse Palace”?

We were still quite a distance from the Aconcagua Base Camp in this journey, so we could only gaze at the mountains from afar on an observatory deck by the roadside. After we left the deck, we played Aerosmith's hit song "Crazy" on the tour bus. Outside the window, I caught a glimpse of two girls who bore a striking resemblance to Alicia Silverstone and Liv Tyler driving by. I could only hope that, like the ending of the music video for this song, the wild girls would pick up a young farmer at a wheat field, and a tractor would swerve about in the wilderness on its own, and inscribe the word “Crazy.”