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Published: March 14th 2008
The Police
Don´t Stand so Close to MeHola again all, barely have you had time to take in and enjoy my Iguazu blog and I lumber upon you all the details of our next adventure. Hope you have the stomach.
From Puerto Iguazu we endured yet another 24 hour bus journey (my concept of distances will be massively altered by the time I get back), and arrived in Salta, Northern Argentina, a burgeoning attraction for travellers and tourists alike for its natural landscapes, vineyards, architecture, and opportunities to take road trips scattered with incredible views.
First impressions of Inti Huasi, to be our hostel for a over at week, were excellent, as resident legend Victor greeted me with a freshly made brew: this was to become a pattern throughout our stay, during which we have been treated mildly like Kings. As in Northern Argentina we are further away from more developed cities such as Buenos Aires and Mendoza, the culture appears at first to be somewhat different, there are more people of Hispanic/Indigenous descent, and apparently the multiculturalism stems from the arrival of Spanish, Italian and Arab immigrants at the turn of the last century.
Our first couple of days (the 8th and 9th March)
were spent wondering around the centre of Salta itself. As in all centres there is a Plaza commemorating independence (often named 9 de Julio), and it was here where we stumbled across the Police playing a gig. Sting you ask? Unfortunately there was to be no Roxanne, though perhaps red lights, as it was the local Police Force striking up the brass band. The locals appeared to enjoy this show of slacking, and we spent a little while enjoying the scenes. From here we went to a museum celebrating the local history of Salta, plenty of clay knocking around, a big natural resource here. We could also see on the horizon a large set of sugarloaf-esque hills accesible by cable cars, an obvious attraction. We found out that at the top of the hills was the Saltanian equivalent of the Christ the Redeemer, arguably less imposing in size, the general surrounding area was still pleasant and offered extensive views of "Salta the Beautiful".
Sunday, as most days seem to be in Argentina, is market day, and we did a bit of snooping around, both of us purchasing Native hoodies emblazened with llamas, the local animal which we also managed
to meet en route to Cafayate, alongside its non-plussed owner. The popular activity next to the market appeared to be pedalo´s and rowing boats, orchestrated by men randomly blowing whistles at full pelt (such whistling is also popular with the police on every street corner). We took a brief cruise, very romantic.
On the Sunday night we decided we would sample the nightlife we had missed out on the previous 2 nights due to immense tiredness. We had low expectations of the evening, yet things perked up when we walked into see a rock band covering what were apparently popular Argentine hits. The next bar we went to had a slightly quicker tempo to it, and there appeared to be people moshing to reggae, again, not something I have experienced before. We sat outside and as the band calmed down we got chatting to some locals, mainly students from the local University. It was interesting to see that the cult of celebrity hasn´t quite caught on in earnest here as we were introduced in a lax fashion to apparently one of the most famous men in Argentina: the Argentinian equivalent of Ross Kemp, a documentary maker specialising in Prison
culture. He seemed pleased to meet us however did make more than a passing comment about the Falklands/Islas Malvinas which is always tricky territory, and a topic we managed to once again avoid. When kicked out of the bar at 6am the night still felt young, and we were all swept off the streets by the owner of a local bar/restaurant, who served us Heineken until 9.30am. The guy also had musical talent, performing plenty of duets with one of the local females and treating us to some Damien Rice, Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin. We have since learnt that the current popular English bands here are soft rock extraordinnaires; Keane, Magic Numbers and Coldplay.
After a day of recovery, we took a trip with two others (a smitten Argentinian couple) and a guide to Cafayate, a town 4 hours south of the centre of Salta, famous for its vineyards and spectacular surrounding views. The journey down itself was the most enjoyable part, as along the red-soiled national route 68 we drove through a gorge which housed vast terracota eroded landscapes for miles, which were unlike anything I had seen previously. Incidentally the erosion has created a few novel
shapes which we stopped to look at, including a frog-looking rock, and a sinking titanic. Also interestingly, the erosion has created an ampitheatre of sorts, as within a cave in the rocks is a small dome which has perfect acoustics. We were fortunate enough to catch a couple of men playing guitars (followed by a woman who randomly broke out into tune, not unusual), and after a brief discussion with the men they invited me to sing a bit of Pink Floyd with them. Fortunately for the fellow ampitheatre visitors, I politefully declined.
In Cafayate itself we did a little wine-tasting at the vineyards, firstly at the smaller, organically made "Nanni" Vineyard, then later at one overlooking vast rows of grapes and apparently a much larger producer. We have both enjoyed our wine since coming to Salta, and I also picked up a little nugget of knowledge I will now share. Cafayate is apparently world renowned for its torrontes (sweet) white wine, due to the climate which is both sunny and at high altitude, increasing the natural sugar levels in the grapes. Jilly Goolden eat your heart out. Before leaving we also sampled the regionally famous "Vino Helados" or
wine ice-cream/sorbet. Again this was extremely enjoyable, though a little strong.
After an early night, the next day brought an adventure of different sorts: the road trip. We were told prior to coming to Salta that hiring a car was the best way to see the surrounding towns, and so we hired a car for the day to drive to Cachi. Sam was the designated driver, probably wise in terms of experience, and it was he who had to tackle the "every man for themselves" way of Argentinian driving, whilst I became DJ and navigator. We had been warned by Argentinians at the hostel before setting off to "be careful" (a concept I didn´t realise they took on board) due to flooding and bad roads, caution was to be heeded. About an hour in, and away from the city, we sampled our first water hazard. Though the depth didn´t look particularly intimidating, the fact there was a local in a 4x4 refusing to tackle it, and we were in a VW Golf, we thought it may be game over. Despite fears, we showed the way, and though for the rest of the journey the cloud cover and mist was
pretty severe, we got to Cachi safe and sound, and muddy.
Along the way, and the 4,000 metre climb we reached, the views were again spectacular, the fields were sprinkled with cactii and in the background along vast open roads were giant rocky mountains and impressive scenery. The altitude did get to us slightly at certain points, and we were reassured of our height when the crisp packet we had almost popped of its own accord. After sitting roadside to eat our packed lunch, we arrived in the town of Cachi itself, which was a bit of a ghost town, so we did very little and made the journey back, again stopping along the way as and when it pleased us.
As we leave Argentina for good from here, advancing on to Chile, I felt it would be appropriate to note down a few musings conjured up from Salta which I believe to be fairly typical of Argentine culture:
• People enjoy queueing. Whether it is on the street for sweets, outside pharmacies where lines seem to go on forever, or in Supermarkets, queues appear to be everywhere. I put this in part down to the slowness/relaxed
nature of everyone in Argentina, and the fact that nowhere has change, so a simple transaction turns into a 20 minute epic.
• The markets are bizzare. As in Uruguay, each stall has something comical to offer which in Salta included prescription glasses, and a dancing braided toy Jamaican woman with some Che Guevara clobber on.
• Next, and probably only in Salta, but whimsical nonetheless, is school uniform. Here all the boys wear lab coats to school, resulting in the city at certain points looking like a science convention.
• Finally, everyone here seems to have a great voice. On our way to the internet cafe just now we stopped in a local eatery to be greeted by 3 guys in business suits passionately singing their hearts out to polite applause, there was also the Damien Rice guy, the people in the acoustic caves and other random singers including the Opera Singer in Calafate who have all combined to make our Argentina experience all the better.
From Argentina,
Adios.
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non-member comment
firstly, loving the police gag on the first pic. secondly, is it me or do all these rock formations that are meant to look like things (frogs, sunken cruise ships) look nothing like them? your camera work not showing their true beauty?