Moving on up - the beauty of Salta

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I stayed in Mendoza longer than planned. I spent a full week there, during which I finally got my bearings - well, just about!

Mendoza has the feel of a European city but at a fraction of the cost. I have had some delicious meals for a little over a pound as well as an 80p haircut. It's also a perfect city to sit with a coffee and people watch. As mentioned in my previous blog entry, it is a very leafy city, but I was to discover that sitting with a coffee under a tree has its pitfalls - a bird nestled in one of the trees decided to poo directly on my head. Looking on the bright side, I guess it could have landed in my coffee. Another notable feature of the city is the incredibly long siestas. Everything shuts down promptly at 1pm and stays closed until at least 5pm. No wonder everyone looks sleepy when strolling around town, they are obviously getting far too much sleep (it should be renamed Men-dozy). Not a bad place to live, then.

One afternoon I was sat in the hostel itching for something to do. I had arranged to visit some of the nearby wineries (or ´bodegas´) with some of the hostel crowd, but as time progressed it became clear that they had no real intention of leaving the side of the pool. I collared a guy called Terence, from Stratford, who was also waiting impatiently for the others to get active, and suggested that we catch a bus to Maipu, home of many of the wineries. However, having boarded the bus, we realised that neither of us had enough change and we were abruptly chucked off. During my trip so far I have found that bus drivers are generally very reasonable when it comes to lack of change - I have even had a few free rides - but this driver was having none of it. We managed to sort out the change problem, but we were still stuck in the bus station with nowhere to go. Then I spotted a bus with "San Martin" listed as the destination. Having nothing better to do, I suggested that we go to San Martin as a bit of random fun. Terence was up for it, and so off we went to San Martin.

I imagined that San Martin might be a lovely little town in the mountains, with perhaps a few sights to keep us occupied. As it turned out, San Martin was as flat as a pancake, with not so much as even a hill in sight. And there was absolutely nothing to do, save for sandal shopping, which Terence seemed to have a penchant for. We did spot a poster advertising a winery and we walked for ages trying in vain to find it (none of the locals seemed to have heard of it). After a few hours we gave up trying to find anything of even remote interest and got on a bus back to Mendoza. On the bus a girl from Mendoza, Shirley (interesting choice of name for an Argentinian), started chatting to us. Basically, she was asking us what on earth we had been doing in San Martin. We explained to her the turn of events which took us to the most-boring-town-on-Earth and, perhaps out of sympathy, she invited us to her family home for dinner. I was chuffed at this, as it meant that my random plan to go to San Martin had come to some fruition after all. However this satisfaction quickly evaporated on arrival at Shirley's house. I greeted Shirley's father with a chirpy "Hola!", only for Senor Salort to give me the most evil stare you can possibly imagine. The mother was only marginally more friendly, and the brother's opening comment was "We don't like the English". On top of this, the aggressive looking Boxer dogs were going beserk, diving for our ankles as Shirley desperately tried to restrain them. Gradually the Salort family warmed to us, except for the father who didn't speak a word. It was difficult to steer conversation away from the Falklands though, which remains a very sore subject, not helped by Carol Thatcher who, according to the Salorts, is still in Argentina filming a documentary titled "My Mother's War" to mark the conflict's 25th anniversary. The Argentines are fuming about the bare cheek of this and I can't say I blame them. So thank you, Carol, for fuelling the Argentines' animosity towards the English - just what I need. The Salorts are actually reasonable folk and as the evening wore on they were treating us very warmly. Even the dogs were acting like we were their best friends. The tide had turned so much that at the end of the night we were invited back for dinner for the next day. Maybe, just maybe, they had changed their views about English people a little... the government should really be paying me for my diplomatic relations efforts.

The next day Terence and I managed to make it to Maipu (the vino place) without too much ado. One of the best ways to see the wineries is by bike, notwithstanding the heat and alcohol factors. Sounds like a barmy idea, doesn't it, so naturally I gave it a go. We rented our bikes and then cycled to the first winery - we were given a tour and were offered 2 glasses of different red wines, gleefully accepted. Then it was back on the bikes to another winery, where we sampled another red wine, before wobbling off to find a liqueur factory for more tasters. I think my cycling actually improved with the alcohol - well, that's the way it seemed to me, you'll have to ask the locals for their perspective.

Getting back to Shirley's house that night proved to be a difficult task. We didn't know the address but had her phone number. We couldn't get through to her using the hostel phone and the staff told us that we couldn't use it without reversing the charges. There was no way we were going to risk incurring Senor Salort's wrath by making him pay for our phone call. Eventually we managed to find someone in the hostel with a mobile and this did the trick. The next problem was finding a taxi driver who knew the address and the staff helped us out with this one. By the time we got to Shirley's house it was 1.30am and we weren't quite sure of what sort of welcome we would get. As it was, we were treated to a superb steak and everyone stayed up chatting and passing round the maté until the early hours.

Having met a fair number of Argentines now I feel qualified to comment on them generally. The common perception of an Argentine is a somewhat egotistical, arrogant person who thinks they are a cut above the rest. While the stereotype is no doubt true in a number of cases, nearly all the Argentines I have met have been extremely friendly, warm and kind. They are perhaps somewhat insecure - they can be very image conscious - but they are good people.

The next day I was due to go paragliding, but this was cancelled as there were strong winds and the road leading up to the Andes foothills was blocked due to heavy rain from recent storms. Finding myself at a loose end again, I went around a few tour agencies downtown to see if they had any suggestions on how I could spend my day. All the agencies gave me the same options - vino, vino or vino. So off I went on a tour to some more wineries. I was the only foreigner on the tour and so I was given my own personal translation! The highlight was the Lopez winery, one of Argentina's biggest. The sheer scale of the place was extraordinary - they produce 10,000 bottles an hour and 90,000 in a day. They were generous in their samples too - I managed to get 2 glasses of red and 1 white, and was rather tipsy when getting back on the bus.

The paragliding went ahead the following morning in spite of the persisting wind. The trip up the hill road in a 4WD was incredibly bumpy, painfully so. I was only too glad to glide back down the hill rather than having to return via the road from hell. The instructor kitted me up and we were ready to set off in tandem. My instructions were basically to run off the cliff. I was given the go-ahead and began running, only for my take-off to be abruptly halted by the instructor yelling "Stop!". I'm not sure quite what the problem was but anyway seconds later I was told to begin running again and we were off, up and in the air. The ride itself was very relaxing - it didn't have the thrill or buzz of skydiving or bungy jumping, all there was to do was sit and admire the view, which was pretty impressive. It was over very quickly and that was that.

I left Mendoza on Saturday night for Salta, a journey which took 17 hours. I treated myself to the 'cama' seat, which is an extremely comfy leather chair. You cannot fail to sleep well in that. Most of the buses I have been on so far have been very impressive - this bus company (Andesmar) even organised a game of bingo with a bottle of red wine for the winner. I didn't win, which was probably just as well after all the wine in Mendoza. I arrived in soggy Salta at 1pm and braved the rain in the afternoon to go exploring the city.

Salta is known as "la linda" (the beauty) and it more than lives up to this title. It is an absolute gem. Surrounded by hills, Salta's streets are full of character and atmosphere and are dominated by some superb colourful colonial architecture. I took the cable car up to San Bernardo hill, which offers fabulous views of the city and region.

While in Salta I went on 2 different day tours to explore more of this part of northern Argentina. The first trip took me up into the hills north of Salta, known as the Quebrada de Humahuaca, towards the Bolivian border. It didn't get off to a great start, as the clouds were so dense that visibility was essentially nil. We may as well have been on the M25. After a while, however, the clouds suddenly dispersed, revealing the spectacular shapes and colours of the hills. It was a beautiful journey, characterised not only by the colourful landscapes but also by quaint indigenous towns and heaps of cacti, some of which are hundreds of years old.

We stopped in 2 villages en route to the town of Humahuaca. The first, Purmamarca, is situated just north of the Tropic of Capricorn and has the stunning backdrop of the ´Seven coloured hill'. It is a lovely little place. The other village, Tilcara, is famous for its pre-Hispanic fortress, built by the agricultural community to fend off attacks from the Incas and other tribes. The fortress was strategically placed to give the best lookout possible of the surrounding area - how thoughtful of them, as travellers like me can now reap the benefits by admiring the outstanding panoramic views.

Next stop was Humahuaca, which sounds like a tongue-twister but is actually named after an ancient tribe. Humahuaca reminded me of Colonia in Uruguay, very atmospheric with lots of cobbled little streets. That said, it was a little too touristy for my liking.

The second day trip was through the Calcaquies valleys south-west of Salta. I know it would make a change if I described the scenery as being "ugly" or "breathtakingly dull", but I'm afraid the valleys were absolutely beautiful. The road leading through the valley was very steep and windy, and it was with some relief when we arrived vomit-free in the small Andean village of Cachi. Cachi was extremely quiet, with hardly anyone around. This gives the village a sense of remoteness and isolation which Humahuaca lacks, and I really enjoyed my couple of hours there. On the way back to Salta, we stopped in the city of San Salvador de Jujuy, one of the poorer cities in Argentina. It was raining heavily and we didn't stay long, but we did make time for a visit to the impressive cathedral.

My time in Argentina is rapidly coming to end, and I will be sad to leave. With fabulous towns and cities, incredible natural features, friendly people, as well as being extremely cheap, this really is a wonderful country to visit. In case you hadn't guessed, I rather like it.

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Photos

View from San Barnardo hill
(taken from my café table!)

Humahuaca's clock tower
(the cactus is hundreds of years older than the tower!)

Comments

[Mark]

Very nice
need more photo's