Argentine Andean Northwest

After a week in the Atacama Desert, I caught a bus back into Argentina to spend some time in the Andean northwest. The bus trip was relatively uneventful except for some minor altitude sickness and the discomfort of having to sit next to an incredibly racist Argentine police officer. Smiling, he actually asked me what I thought of 9-11. I just stared back at him in disbelief and told him he should travel more. He then launched into a barrage of how awful the Brits were after learning that the guy sitting across the aisle was from the Malvinas Islands. Fortunately, he didn't understand a lick of ingles, so I quickly switched seats, jumped the aisle, and spent the rest of the trip talking to the Malvinian, Dominic.

After meeting up briefly with an old San Francisco friend who coincidentally studies volcanoes in Salta (yeah, what a cool job!), I went down to Córdoba to spend Semana Santa with my former host family from Chaco. My stay down there was wonderful, and I was fully welcomed back into the family (Che, la nena ha vuelto!). It was strange to see my former brothers now with careers in the music industry, and the youngest just finishing college. We actually got to see Sebastián perform in the Cordoba Plaza at a free outdoor concert (does that make me cool by association?). Having spent six months riding to school on the back of Martín's motorcycle, it was good to see him again, although he kept wanting to talk to me about 9-11 conspiracy theories. Luckily we found we could more neutrally bond over Brazilian music.

After many a shared máte and memory, I returned to Salta, rented a car, and enjoyed the luxury of a VW gol (they dropped the 'f' for some reason…) for an entire week. I started in the south of these provinces in the town of Cafayate and worked my way north. In Cafayate I explored the Quilmes ruins, went wine tasting (they make a lovely torrentés), and started traveling with a funny guy from the Netherlands, Yoeri. Yoeri was on a long leave from work, absolutely worshiped the sun, and instilled in me the custom of drinking much too much wine on a daily basis.

From Cafayate up to Cachi we made the spectacularly gorgeous drive along the Calcaquíes Valley before heading north to the dingy town of Jujuy. I mean, these are some of most beautiful inclined sedimentary strata I've ever seen! Continuing northward we meandered along the famous Quebrada de Humahuaca, stopping in the little towns along the way to buy artesanías and humitas (tamale-like corn mush patties). We discovered the best places to eat generally do not actually have menus and should always have fútbol playing on a corner TV.

Along the Bolivian border we spent a night in Yavi, which must be the most tranquil, cobblestoned town in the country. After dropping Yoeri off at the Bolivian border in what appeared to be some sort of mob scene (I've never seen so many people running with large plastic bags balanced on their heads), I returned to Salta and lunched again with Dominic from the Malvinas Islands. And then it was off to Buenos Aires for a few days in Palermo Viejo before boarding a plane Chicago-bound….

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