Putting the Salt in Salta

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So now I know why this place is called Salta.

I spent the day on an excursion to Salinas Grandes, the salt flats, high on the Puna (high altitude desert). We began the day by going back to Purmamarca to the same crafts market that we (ok, I) saw on Monday. As the others on the excursion were all different people from before, I used the opportunity to sit in the plaza and read.

After Purmamarca we veered in a different direction in the Valley of Seven Colors and climbed (climbed sounds better than drove, right?) up and over a very tall mountain. Upon the descent, it looked like we had found the Tundra.

But no, what appeared to be miles upon miles of pure, wind-driven snow was actually salt. Apparently, before the plate shifting that created the Andes Mountains was complete, this part of Argentina was on the Pacific coast. Then earthquakes, volcanos, and other fun party games occured, and up popped Chile, abandoning a lake of sea water until the water part eventually dissovled. It's actually the same phenomenon that is still underway in Utah.

What I had not known about salt was that in addition to being an ingredient in everything, a tool for de-icing your driveway, for making things kosher, for exfoliating, and for torturing people with open wounds, it is also construction equiptment and an artist's medium.

As we left the road and drove out onto the salt, we saw a giant sculpture of an owl. It turns out, this sculpture is made entirely of salt. The artist, who we got to watch work, also makes smaller sculptures to sell to tourists. He takes a chunk of salt and whittles it like wood. Slowly, owls, llamas, and other forms emerge.

After playing in the salt for about 20 minutes (ok, the rest of the group wandering and taking pictures, me taking a few pictures and then playing), we got back into the van and headed to the "town" of El Mojon, perched saltside.

This town consisted of five mud huts and a blue church resembling a child's treehouse. We were treated to a local lunch in a restaurant/pub that occupied the largest of the huts. Inside, we noticed that all of the tables were crafted entirely out of salt. The rest of the decor was cactus bark. It was actually very charming. We were served empanadas with a spiced meat and a rissotto type dish. For dessert, we had polenta with lemon and peach juices mixed in. Yup, this is as far away from Jack in the Box as one can get.

After lunch, we were given a tour of the town (the church as well as the local museum which featured a recreation of an Incan family dwelling). Our guia was the twelve year old son of the restaurant chef.

The modern tribe, who's name I cannot recall, but who identify themselves first as descendents of Inca and second by their modern name, sustains itself in textiles. They have a giant loom that takes up an entire room, and shelves upon shelves of woven sweaters, hats, gloves, toys, and about anything else you can think of.

The church was full of alters and those things that get carried in parades. It also had some less holy items, like a soccer trophy that our guia had won.

There were supposed to be two more town stops after this, but the weather became inclement, and so we only stopped in one to use the restroom. This was fine by me, as after four days of sitting in vans in back country, I was ready to get back on my feet.

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