Cruising the Argentine outback

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So where did we leave you...ahh, Iguazu. After another one of those tremendous bus trips, I think this one was 28 hrs in toto, we stumbled out into the fresh 7am city air of Tucumán, a sizable town in the noroeste de Argentina. We're movin on upwards to that elusive equator! But still chilly now, and we trek through the traffic congested streets, held up by a parade of futbol fans waving flags and singing, who were following a bus with their (winning, we assume) team hiding inside. This at 7.30am! Too much excitement for us at the time, but it turns out that was about as much excitement as we were going to get in Tucuman. The rest of our time was spent trying to email and call an English school in Ecuador, in search of the perfect job that would sustain us for another 6 months in South America....

This quest took us north to Salta, a beautiful and bustling European-like city, where we did in fact end up securing the job, what a relief! Now there was time to relax, enjoy the city and the impending World Cup that was taking Argentina by storm! To us Aussies sport is pretty important, but I think these Argentinians take their love of futból to another level. Every TV, every corner store and every shop window is covered with the blue and white streamers. A begging child comes up to you as you sit in the park, puts a cheap trading card on your lap and returns a minute later to see if you want to pay him for it, and you find that on the back there is a World Cup fixture. And the commentators, they are hilarious. The ball goes through, and for a full 20 seconds afterwards there is an ecstatic cry, GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!

It was while watching one of these thrillers, Germany vs. Ecuador, that we met German couple Anna and Arne, who we would embark on our next journey with. They were planning to rent a car and do a 2-3 day drive through the Cafayate region, and cars are always cheaper (and more fun) with more people in them! It was all set, the next day we jumped in a nice little Chevy, crammed in our backpacks, and Arne drove away as we weren't quite up to a right-hand-side city drive yet. We flash through the yellow morning, town by dusty town, out of the city and into the rural areas. Mountains constantly surround us, close on the left and off to our distant right, and you knew you were in the South American countryside - Cacti by the bucket load.

So we were surprised when we came across a ghost town down in a valley, by the name of Alemania - the Spanish word for Germany. Intrigued, we drove across a rusting steel bridge, past a goat on the roof of a house (as you do), and pulled up at the overgrown train station that announced that this indeed was Alemania. Apparently the Germans had founded this town early last century and had shipped back home some of the minerals from the nearby mountains. Who knows what happened to the town, but the only souls to greet us were a bunch of puny dogs. After a wander we found no-one except a lonely artisan who sold his wares in the old station, to any curious tourist who drove past. We weren’t the only ones, as he was making a nice enough living!

The next leg of our trip took us through some familiar looking countryside, scattered vineyards and tobacco plantations here and there, old beaten up cars - relics of rust. That old merc makes me think someones holiday in 62´ was postponed for quite some time. So on we roll and I´m hoping for a change of scenery. I got it soon enough, the first of many dramatic changes of scenery.

The grass, crops and mercs crossfaded with rocks, sand and stone of the Quebrada de Cafayate. I don´t mean that garbage that you get on the side of road, I mean real rocks. Great ancient beasts that make human civilisation look like a newborn pup. As though that weren´t enough, some of these red-stone wonders had something more to offer - awe, mysticism and amusment. First but not least, the Garganta del Diablo (yep they really like that name, re: iguazu) was this great crack in the earth that simply boggles your mind. We came upon a tour group lead by some kind of coca-chewing madman who explained to us (through his coca-bulged mouth) the mystical side to this extrodinary rock formation. It was explained in the most backward, miss-mashed, nonsensical way, and his mystical tale of devils, brothers, plants, bones, flutes, mothers, children and flowers was, at the very least, good for a laugh!

We investigated the remaining notable rocks, El ampiteatro, El Sappo (the toad) and El Friar before a lack of light had us heading for the safety of a hostel. On the way, down in a valley next to the road, we saw a strangely magical and liberating sight - a pack of wild horses, black as night and galloping, playing, rolling in the white dust of the dried-up river. Never before have I seen such uninhibited beauty.

The second day we made our way to Quilmes. Now aside from being the national argentine choice of beer, Quilmes is also the site of one of the last native strongholds against the conquistadors. Interesting place, but a guide or a degree in archeology would have made it something else I´m sure. From Quilmes we took a long straight road somewhere else. Where is not important, whats important is that on the way we came onto an open plain and were surround by an leigon of cacti, armed and dangerous. Anyone who´s seen or read 'Day of the Triffids'will know why an army of strange plants are not to be taken lightly.

After the fear had passed and I knew we were safe, a grumbling stomach was the next point of call. We all agreed to stop in the next pueblo, and so we came upon the tiny dusty San Juan, and stopped at the main plaza which was full of friendly rusting playground equipment. Always people on bikes, old and young, three sisters wobbling along with a tiny tot squashed in the middle. We sit down at one of the only comidas visible, and order one of the 2 things on the menu(only available verbally of course): canneloni, or empanadas. Poor Anna, a vegetarian, has to pick through the canneloni which apparently had 'no carne', but contains a suspicious looking pink substance which turns out to be part of a pig, obviously not considered meat by the cook! The lovely girl who serves us the meal is happy to explain everything there is to know about San Juan and the area, and her cute twin boys show us their handiwork, some hand-carved buttons, that we could buy for 25c a pop.

Warm from the sun and beer, we could better appreciate our next and most dramatic change in scenery. But to get there, we must give up the luxury of paved roads - and high speeds. With no warning but a tiny old sign, we shoot out onto white dust and sizable rocks, enough to keep us at 40ks for the rest of the day! But it definitely felt like the country when over the first hill we came across a gorgeous group of scruffy kids surrounding a single donkey, making their way to the next pueblo. For the next 3 hours ahead, a jumble of great boulders that we had to weave through and could admire from every aperture, a fascinating landscape all soft sandy road and big jagged boulder. A great thrill before pulling in to Angostaca, the next sleepy town for a cup of tea. While we drank another world cup game finished and the channel was instantly changed, to Rocky II, by some mysterious force. Enquiring as to how this was possible, our host explained that all tv channel changes in this town are controlled by one person. A great and dangerous responsibility! Our host gave us more than we bargined for, belting out a few tunes on the guitarra and showing us his extensive collection of postcards and foriegn currency. Gracìas Señor Josè Vicente, and we will send a postcard when we return home!

Because of the bumpy road factor, we were running behind schedule. Instead of driving the 4hrs to Cachi, weary and hungry we wheeled into Molinos, a tiny excuse for a pueblo, not even sure if we could find a place to sleep! But the friendly Hospedaje Familiar surprised us, literally we were staying in someone's house, and did we get some strange gringo stares (although they were watching Charlie's Angels when we walked in). The only restaurant in town, Los Tres Chinos, fed us all for 30 pesos. Apparently the name comes from the appearance of the Argentinian owners and children, but we didn't think they looked Chinese at all.

A frosty morning finally set us off for Cachi, although after 20 mins driving Arne realised he had left something at the Hospedaje....Greg and I took the chance to soak in the scenery, so while they drove back we enjoyed the morning sun and an eerie and complete silence. We stood as still as cacti to fully appreciate this moment.

We arrived in the town at 10am, just in time for the Australia vs Croatia game....but due to a similar TV arrangement, the only sports channel was showing paparazzi footage of Argentinian players talking on their mobile phones and going to their hotels. AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH! This is a World Class game, people! Even if it is only us Aussies, inferior to your grand sport!

Feeling a bit dejected, we made our way back to Salta in the blinding sun, past more desert scenery and thousands of soldier-like cacti. In the 2.5 days, we observed so many drastic changes of scenery, we could have been in 10 different countries. If you get the chance people, do this - the bus won't take you everywhere!

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Photos

Cachi poochi
How can he be so cute and so ugly at the same time?

Kids on horses
We actually followed these kids around the tiny town so we could talk to them and of course get a photo

Alemania, the Argentinian one
With a strangely Islamic looking sign...? Arne and Greg comprehend this

Garganta del Diablo
Swallowed by the red rock....the haven of the devils

Traditional welcome at Angostaca
Señor Vicente puts on a real show with his own songs

No trains here
The view from Alemania

"¿Ruff?"
We decided that the smaller ones probably survived the best, from being so cute and pathetic you had to give them some food.

Comments

[vagamundo]

Alemanía
Hi there. Love your wild horses photo!! I will go back to that area in 3 days. Alemanía (with accentuation on the "i") does not have anything to do with Germany, although I made the full tour van go there being the only German in the car. The name derives from an Indio/an tribe. I will try to find out more about them this time.