Morning judging

I rise at 7:30. And realise that there are a couple of things I don’t know. Or have forgotten. When judging will start. And where it's taking place. Luckly there's the WhatsApp group to answer my questions.

It’s not the greatest of breakfasts. And the breakfast room is very quiet. Usually, it's full of judges. I’m guessing that most are staying at another hotel.

Bierlife, the judging location, is just a 5-minute stroll away. Just enough of a walk to wake me up properly.

A specialist beer pub in an old, single-storey building. Bending around an inner courtyard.

I’m one of the last judges to arrive. Still on time, mind.

I’m judging with Lee Lord and local Carolina. I remember Lee from the Williamsburg historic beer conference a few years back.

Judging samples lined up on a judging mat.

It seems that I needn’t have brought along my laptop. It’s all medal rounds. Brilliant. Someone else has done all the hard work taking notes. I just have to pluck out the best three.

We have some good styles. Notably, Pale Ales sand Bitters. Which is right down my ginnel. I find style like Pale Lagers really difficult. Probably, because I rarely drink them outside of competitions. Just not my thing. Unless I’m in Central Europe. Where you’d have to be a complete fucking idiot to dodge Lager.

My nose is a bit runny, which doesn’t help the tasting. I can really do without a cold. Not just for the sake of my sensory abilities. Being sick while away from home is no fun. Been there, done that, thrown up into the sick bag.

Lunch is a sort of shepherd's pie. Which is quite nice. Served on a slate. Which would piss my son Andrew right off. He’s a committed plateist.

Shepherd's pie thing.

We only have one flight after lunch. We're finished by 14:00. Brilliant. I trundle back to my hotel. Where I doss around for a while.

It’s all been pleasantly relaxing, so far. My hotel is a ten-minute walk from the judging location. Meaning no pissing around waiting for buses. As soon as I’m done judging, I can bugger off back for an afternoon nap. Not that I do that.

Tonight, we're eating where Carolina brews. The bus is supposed to leave at 18:00. I'm shocked when it pulls away at 18:07. It's about a 20-minute ride.

Bierlife Sala de Barricas is a typical industrial style taproom Quite Spartan. Decorated with not particularly realistic paintings of hops. (A reassuringly common motif in taprooms worldwide.) The beer served out of the side of a small van. I get myself a Quadrupel. Don't want to go too crazy.

Not a particularly realistic painting of hops.

There are various bits of food. Meat on a stick. A type of stew eaten with a fork. (A new one for me.) And BBQ meat. It seems that they’re into their meat here in Argentina. Who would have guessed that? Only joking. We’re in South America. The meat is bound to be dead yummy.

Bottles of beer are shared. With and without proper labels. Wee Heavy from quite a bit South of Edinburgh. Things I’d never get to taste, in the normal world. 

BBQ Meat.

Using all my old person skills, I've grabbed a seat. At the table where Eduardo, a very jolly Brazilian judge, has placed a bottle of cachaca. Weber Haus 3-year-old. I’ve bought their cachaca before in Sao Paulo duty free. Good stuff.

"Open it up whenever you feel like it, Ron."

I don't need to be asked twice. Or even once. It's rather nice. So nice, I pour myself a second and a third.

When I’m warmed up a little, Pete Slosberg asks me if I want to share his Uber. It's only 20:30. But I don't want to be out too late. And all the cachaca has evaporated. Not much point in staying any longer.

La Lechuzita Loca.

I stroll back from Pete's hotel. It's not a long walk. One which takes me past an empanada shop. “La Lechuzita Loca” (The Crazy Little Owl) It would be impolite not to drop in. Empanadas are sort of like the kebabs of South America. Except they’re eaten for breakfast, too. And lunch. Anytime, really.

"A meat empanada, please."

"Normal or spicy?"

"Oh, spicy, please."

It's rather nice. And cost just 1.80 euros. Bargain. I’ll have to message Mikey.

I don't stay up late. A little Tomatin propels me onto the sleep train.




Bierlife
Humberto 1º 670, 
C1103 Cdad. Autónoma de Buenos Aires.


La Lechuzita Loca
Chacabuco 780, 
C1069 Cdad. Autónoma de Buenos Aires.


Disclaimer: my hotel, some meals and some drinks were paid for by Copa Argentina de Cervezas.