Salta la Linda

Well, my week in Buenos Aires continued to be intriguing - but relaxing it was not. The constant noise, traffic, pedestrians and political demonstrations of central BA begins to take control of your senses. Whereas London has noticeable rush hours and quiet hours, BA is a relentless urban maelstrom, and thats depite the fact that many portenos (BA residents) leave work at lunchtime to have a siesta. They must dream of exhaust fumes and screaming motorbike engines.

Don´t get me wrong, its a great city - especially at night. Went to some fantastic bars and restaurants´in the trendy barrio of Palermo (Portenos eat out at around ten pm and go to nightclubs from 2am). Went to BAs premier nightclub, Pacha, and found it to be Balearic in all but location - even the outside of the building, with its whitewashed sandstone and terracotta tiled roof, looked like it had been airlifted out of Playa D´en Bossa and over the Atlantic to BA. Music was pretty good too...

Also went to see River Plate v San Lorenzo on Sunday. It was an amazing atmosphere - the ramshackle enormodome of a ground was packed with around 60,000 bouncing, shouting, swearing, teargas-dodging lunatics. The away fans were housed in an area above where we were sitting - and proceeded to hurl missiles at their alleged enemies below for the entire 90 minutes (we were under covers, thankfully). Although I dislike resorting to superlatives, the 0-0 draw we witnessed amounted to easily the worst game of football I have ever seen. And Lord knows I have seen enough dreadful football matches in my time. Even Northampton Town FC, in their darkest mid- nineties days, looked like the Brazil 1970 outfit in comparison. I think River had one shot on target, and that was in the 89th minute when San L were down to nine men. Also of note, River´s manager was everyone´s favourite Argentine Diego Simeone, who achieved English notoriety for getting Beckham sent off in the World Cup of 98.

On Wednesday flew to Salta in the north-west of the country, about a thousand miles north of BA. It is on the edge of the Andes, and around 2,000 metres above sea level. It is known as Salta la Linda (Pretty Salta), for its charming array of colonial buildings, swaying palm trees and a fine 19th century pink cathedral. However, the palm trees are cruelly deceptive - one night one, the temperature dropped to minus three at night. I was relieved I had purchased a hat, scarf and gloves earlier in the day...

Went on an organised tour to the tiny village of Cachi, about a hundred miles to the south west. To get there you have to pass through a yunga gorge (a semi-tropical valley, yunga meaning ´warm´in Quechua, the language of the Incas). Then you climb up to around 3,500 metres in 11 miles of zig-zagging road. The bad news was that the mountains were swathed in clouds and you couldn´t see your outstretched hand. The good news was that you also couldn´t see the 1,000 metre sheer drop a foot away from the edge of the unpaved road. Neither, of course, could Miguel, the amiable driver. He didn´t look fazed, although it did look as if he was chewing his coca leaves with slightly more vim during the hairier moments...

After we ascended and descended the mountains (not the Andes, but a smaller range before them), we reached a broad valley populated exclusively with stoical cacti. After that we reached Cachi, an oasis town populated almost exclusively by indigenous people. They survive on mainly tourism, but apparently also on a spice mill and, like virtually everyone in the Andes, farming. Its the first time I´ve ever felt genuinely different, and got stared at by everyone as if I was an alien. (Apart from certain pubs in Northampton, that is). I also got my first glimpse of the feted mountain range, and although they were mainly hidden behind clouds, still felt a bit awestruck. Everyone I´ve met tells me I´ll be sick of the sight of the damn Andes by the end of my trip. I´m not so sure...

Next - I may stay in Salta for a while, as it is a good base to explore a lot of the sights in the area. I may also go to San Pedro de Atacama, over the Chilean border, and check out the driest desert in the world. Or I might just head for Bolivia, where everything is ten times cheaper, and go to a music festival in Cochabamba, which is south-west of the capital, La Paz. Its refreshing not to have any definite plans!

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