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Published: October 15th 2006
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The town of charm
This is the main street of the magical adobe town amidst the hills of seven colours To spread ones wings from within the darkness, and leap into the light with no knowledge of flight, but for instinct... A butterfly must understand freedom better then those that have never experienced confinement.
The road that we took across the desert in the Andes, (in a car designed for the sole purpose of transporting an 82 year old woman to the neighbouring supermarket for 150mls of milk and the TV guide), on an unsealed dirt road, riddled with speed bump sized ridges, in 30 dry degrees, with all windows closed to prevent the suffocating dust capturing all five of us, (in the four seats in which we sat), at an altitude of 3800m, made me get a grasp of what confinement really is.
Eventually being released to wander through an adobe settlement in the middle of the desert, made me appreciate freedom (at least for a moment).
I wandered away from the micro-machine like form of our tour car, toward a small hut.
Once inside, a garden boasting tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, strawberries, and a plethora of other green leafed goodies revealed its self. The oxygen rich atmosphere gave my pleading lungs a healthy kick, and I basked in the
Seven shades of hill
Infront of the colourful hills in Salta moist fresh air. My breathing and heart rate had rediscovered their old low-altitude selves. Amidst the relief I realised that I would soon have to abandon this eden in the desert, and eventually return to the car. The car was only 20 metres away.
After three energetic steps out of the gaqrden hut I noticed a pen of three particularly cute new-born lambs . The lambs became decidedly more cute as they began to sway in unison from side to side. ¨Amazing¨ (I thought),
so I headed in for a closer look.
I actually thought I was walking at a respectable pace, and one of the lambs who now had begun to converse with me agreed.
The moment that Tracey and several other tourists strolled past me, was the very same moment that I decided that it was likely that I was imagining the three little lambs odd behaviour.
¨Were these the effects of altitude sickness?¨....
Resting against the legs of our tour guide, whilst Tracey ran frantically for water, I decided that ¨yes¨ it was.
Later on I discovered that the site of Tracey trying to support a stumbling mass (that was me) was quite amusing, and the
Adobe desert villages
the church at the small village in which i lost my feet punch line was the moment that she let me collapse, and followed in quick succession.
This was a recollection of only one of the 10 stops we made on a day tour of Salta and Jujuy (In Northern Argentina). Otherwise the trip was great. I was treated to a gelogical wonderland, comprised of deserts, salt flats, seven coloured cliffs, and an abundance of Andean irregularaties. Despite the magnificence of each stop , the highlight of the trip was undoubtably our visit to a small village amidst the seven coloured cliffs. This adobe crafted quechuan town exuded the true small town Andean charm that defines this region.
We have passed our time in the hot, dry, wild west like settlements of Villazon and Humahuaca this past week, having progressed from the beautiful 500,000 strong city of Salta. Humahuaca and Villazon are both filled with quechuan people, and their wonderful crafts.
Unfortunatley having been exposed to the ludicris prices and overwhelming craft options, Tracey has begun to develop an accute interest in price shopping (not to buy but simply to check prices). Whilst Tracey suffers in silence and I openly let her know that I am suffering from excessive market
Above and beyond
Incidentally this picture was taken before I fainted browsing, I have enjoyed observing the everyday life of the people here.
Salta was a beautiful fusion of the quechuan and spanish cultures, with some bumbling tourists thrown in for laughs. The marvellous architecture of the spanish church in Salta, and the laid back town square were a fitting image to farewell us on our last night in Salta.
We then climbed the mountain roads to reach the adobe town of Humahuaca, marked by its unusual statue of the towns triumphant founder riding into battle, hovering on a dusty hill top, above his humble but charming town.
Two days later we entered the colourful Bolivian border town of Villazon, thanks to the directions of an 11 year old guide named Daniel who is Argentinian, (but has never heard of Manu Ginnobilli). Bolivia has now embraced our arrival with an annual carnival. (I suspect the carnival is in my honour actually, but how didi they know I was coming?). The children are cloaked in rainbows or straddling model bulls. They have wound throughout the streets in a whirlwind of drumbeats and colourless fireworks. I have wandered through the festivities to find this very keyboard.
At this point I have
Church Salta
I think this is basically why people in Salta are religious to admit that I am beginning to miss vegemite, mums sandwiches, ice-cream, stuffing, and the Argentinian steak I had last week, and ofcourse all you guys.
¨Mum!¨ I am looking after myself, and whenever I pass out tracey is nearby with some water.
Adios amigos
Cassels
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Tomas
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Ten cuidado
Andrew, estoy un poco preocupado por sus mareas. Esta bien que Tracey esta contigo pero en todos modos tienes que hacer una consulta con medico a segurar que todo esta bien. Tienes planes a ir a los altos de Peru y seria mas pesado alla que en Salta y por eso creo que vale la pena a ir al medico. Por favor. Un abrazo a vos y Tracey tambien.