How to see Salta in a day

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I woke up to brilliant sunlight streaming in through the window of the coach this morning, having spent twenty three hours in transit from Puerto Iguazú. We left the thick forests of Northern Argentina behind us and had passed through rolling countryside with the mountains in the distance. I had prepared for the trip last night by cooking a couple of hamburgers and fried eggs to keep me going, even though I had been fed at regular intervals by the coach company.

Once in the Omnibus terminal in Salta, I fought my way past the hordes of people trying to drum up business for their hostels to get to the information point. El Argentino Hostel had given me very clear instructions for how to get there from the bus terminal, and all I needed to know was where to catch the right bus from. With map in had, I found my way to the stop for the 6a and waited for the next one to arrive. I didn't have to wait too long thankfully, because even at 10am the temperature was already making me sweat. I brandished a AR$2 (£0.30) at the driver and checked that this was the right bus. Nodding, he pointed to a seat and gestured for me to get on. Although I had totally forgotten that Argentinian buses only take coins, a very nice lady paid for my fair in exchange for the two pesos.

The town was bustling, with people filling the streets and before long the driver signalled that it was my time to get off. I grabbed my things and thanked him for his help in my best Spanish, before opening the map to find out exactly where he'd dropped me. It was only a short walk up Pellegrini to the hostel where I was greeted by the diminutive figure of Justine. I was checked in and shown around the hostel, which of course came with a kitchen. I explained to Justine that I was only in salta for the day because of my flights and asked what I should see in Salta in a day. Justine confirmed the main points of interest that I had read about in Lonely Planet, as well as highlighting where I could go to get some food.

After the usual two hours spent fannying about and sorting out various bank accounts, I made my way into town. I had read that the best way to see Salta was from atop Cerro San Bernardo in the east of the town, so that's where I went first. I made my way through town to San Martin Park where I could take the Teleférico to the top. For just AR$15 (£2.23) I was soon seated in one of the cable cars headed to the summit of Cerro San Bernardo. The views over the town were spectacular and looked like they wouldn't have been out of place in Italy, with the many terracotta tiled roofs. As I took in the scenery I couldn't help but laugh to myself about how I had conquered my fear of heights. I hadn't been this high and unsupported since I'd been on Cat Ba Island in Vietnam.

Once at the top I explored the surroundings and took the same pictures as many of the other tourists there. I could only have appreciated the size of Salta and the Lerma valley from up here and it was vast. Once I had had my fill of the views I began the descent of the hill by the staircase that lead to the Güemes monument. It was around one-thousand-and-seventy-seven stairs, but thankfully it was all downhill. As I began my descent I noticed that there were small monuments at several points on the staircase. It wasn't until I was halfway down that the graffiti laden monuments held pictures depicting the twelve points of the cross. They had been so badly defaced with tags and posters that I hadn't realised at first what they were, but I began to count down the closer I got to the bottom of the stairs.

Emerging into the daylight once more I stopped to take a couple of pictures of the Güemes monument before making my way back into town. General Martin Miguel de Güemes was a hero of the war of independence who ashes are kept within the Iglesia Cathedral in the town. As I wondered down Paseo Güemes away from the monument, I noticed the rather grand looking houses that lined the street. Surrounded by high wrought iron fences and gates, the Tuscan looking houses were an apt reminder of the Italian influence that Argentina had undergone during it's fight for independence.

I wandered through the streets until I found myself at Plaza 9 de Julio. I was feeling hungry, so I decided to treat myself to a couple of alfadjores from a local bakery whilst I sat in the park and relaxed. Rested and content, for the time being, I crossed the plaza to the Iglesia Cathedral. The cathedral looked magnificent, a real architectural work of art... in pink. Sadly it wasn't open, so I made my way instead to the Museo de Arqueología de Alta Montaña. The museum housed fascinating discoveries from the Llullailaco volcano of three mummified children and sacred objects that were buried alongside them. The museum explained that when the Incan empire was at it's height, chosen children from each tribe were brought together and 'married' to affirm the bond between the tribes. These children were then given a draft of strong mead to send them to sleep, at which point they were buried alive as an offering to the gods. The one child that was on show, the lightening girl, looked perfectly preserved as were all the objects that she was buried with. As with most museums I wasn't allowed to take photos, but suffice to say it would be worth a visit if you ever found yourself in Salta.

Having had my fill of town for the time being, I returned to the hostel to check my emails. I was trying desperately hard to complete an early tax return for my work in Australia because getting this money was the only way that I'd be able to fund my travels through the US. Fortunately everything I needed had arrived so all that was left to do was forward the various documents to Tina along with a letter of authorisation. With my hard work complete it was time to head out for some food.

Although Justine had recommended a few streets to check out for some local food, I had read a lot about Mercado Central. It was advertised in Lonely Planet as a cheap place to get pizza and empanadas, as well as grab some groceries. Still needing things for breakfast and wanting to try and stay within my budget, I made the short two block walk to the market. As I walked through the market it teeming with people. It reminded me vaguely of walking through markets in Asia; hot and sticky with the air full of wonderful smells. I kept forgetting that it was getting close to Christmas and that this was the reason that so many people were rushing around the market with bundles of shopping bags in each hand. I toured the market and looked at all the fruit and vegetable stalls selling much of the same things. The butchers section was fascinating with each stall selling or specialising in different things. Some were making yards of sausage, some had ox tongue and other bits if offal and some had whole suckling pig. Suffice to say the smell led me to believe that there was very little chance of any of them having proper refrigeration, so I steered clear for the time being and went in search of pizza.

I had learnt very early on in my travels with Julie and Diane, that pizza was one of those staple comfort foods that you just couldn't get wrong. After walking through much of the upstairs restaurant area I was invited to sit down at one of the many White plastic tables by a young lady, who clearly spoke no English. Once seated, her male colleague came over and I ordered four slices of pizza and a medium beer. I was fortunate enough to be sitting right next to the kitchen, and could see just one guy systematically taking ready made pizza bases, smothering them in tomato sauce and placing slice of cheese cut from an enormous block on top of the lot. It was amazing to watch this guy just keep turning out pizza after pizza to fill the seemingly endless number of orders being taken.

I tucked into the thick, crispy pizza, once it had arrived, and delighted in the strings of cheese that clung to the slices that remainder on my plate. Although it wasn't going to rock the culinary world, it was exactly what I needed. There was a TV in the restaurant opposite where I was sitting, and as I ate I watched shocked as the huge Christmas tree that had been in Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires burn. I was gobsmacked that something I had seen less than a week ago, had now been sent up in flames by more protesters.

Once I had eaten, I descended back into the chaos of the market to find some supplies for breakfast. I found a halfway decent looking butcher and bought some blood sausage to have for breakfast the next day along with some eggs. I also thought that I ought to get some fruit and veg into my diet as well, as I hadn't eaten much since I'd left Australia. Once I'd loaded up, I wandered through the maze of shops to explore what else was on offer. There were shops selling knock off DVD's, some with spices of all colours and shops selling a lot of tourist tat that I tried to avoid like the plague.

Having had a whirlwind tour of Salta I returned to the hostel to relax before tomorrow. Now that I had started to skip from place to place again I noticed how much stress it could put on the body. I unwound with a AR$12 (£1.90) litre bottle of beer in the hostels back yard, before heading to bed to prepare for the stress of tomorrow.

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