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Published: March 14th 2008
Salta the beautiful
One of the buildings from the city centreAfternoon ladies and gents. I really am getting sloppy with the updates aren't? Again, its Been over a week since the last one. I promise to try harder. Regardless, the adventure continues with somewhere we've already been but needed a different perspective of, Iguazu Falls.
The journey back from the pantanal was a fairly swift 15 hours, and now it was time to leave Brazil for good. What a country. We'd only scheduled in two weeks here but managed to do over a month without even scratching the surface. Sure, it destroyed the budget and I may have difficulty buying food for the next few months, but it was worth it. The sights and the people of the country are simply captivating. Before we'd travelled there we read stories about the dangers of the country and the poverty that exists, but once you're there the Samba spirit takes over and the place becomes mesmeric.
Anyway, now it was back to Iguazu falls, and indeed, Argentina. The reason for returning was that firstly we had pencilled in our route
Iguazu falls
The devils throat no less to take us across northern Argentina, just to grab a different perspective of the country. Also, we had to head back to Iguazu specifically to observe the falls from the other side. As the majority of the falls lie on the Argentinian side of the border, the presents an opportunity to get a bit closer to falls. Firstly, a bridge can be walked on that takes you right over the devils throat, that being the largest of all the falls. Secondly, boat trips are offered to take you along the Iguazu river. Stripping down to my shorts and placing my camera in a waterproof bag, I anticipated the worst, and got it. The boat heads off with the aim of simply dunking you under the falls, the largest of which being the San Martin fall. As the boat approached, the passengers on board held there arms in the air as though they were on a rollercoaster. Then everything seemed to go dark, and all that can be heard is the sound of water slapping you violently in the face. Then the boat pulls away, leaving everyone on board looking bruised, battered, disorientated, and wet. Special mention to my travelling companion
for being the only person to keep his hands in the air for the duration. Kudos to you Aaron.
That was Iguazu. We stayed in the Argentinian town of Puerto Iguazu for 4 nights but for some reason, possibly laziness, we didn't do a lot else while we were there. Our mind was very much on the next epsiode of our journey. As we will be flying out of Quito in a little under three months, we needed to head west, across this massive continent and into Andean country. As such, our next destination would be Salta. This is a city very much on the way to Northern Chile where we intend to visit shortly. Also, visitng Salta gives an opportunity to see more of Argentina and its people than just the capital. A brief twenty three hour bus journey from Iguazu and we were there, arriving early on a Friday morning.
Salta the beautiful they call it. To find it on a map you'd have to look at Northwest Argentina, just below Bolivia and just East of Chile. You'd also note that the Andes are not too far from here. As such, when you get to the
On the speedboat
Raring to get into a waterfall rural areas, the landscape is very, well, Andean I guess. Rocks, mountains, not much Flaura or Fauna, you know, that old chestnut. The city intself, catering for half a million people, is young and vibrant, with a fair whack of toursim thrown in. Additionally, and in contrast to its bigger brother, Salta is far less European that Buenos Aires.
So anyway, we had arrived, and then paid for a taxi to take us 1 block to the Init Huasi hostel. (How were we supposed to know it was so close?) A modest looking venue, this accomodation came highly recommended on the website and after a week there we can see why. They go the extra mile. They make you breakfast, regardless of what ridiculous hour you may arise from slumber. They have no end of advice about the city, and they'll take you to the pub with them. Then to top it all off, they are masters of the kitchen. The Asado they prepared for us, twice so far but hopefully a third tonight, has nearly brought me to tears of joy. The other day I was reading in the living room, one of the guys came in a
Salta
The view from San Bernado mountain gave me a piece of cake he had just made. Incredible, you really can't put a price on that. I wont even try.
But enough of the culinary delights, i'm here to explore. Friday was a day off from it all, but Saturday was a day of hardcore sight-seeing. Firstly, we tried to take it all in by catching the cable car to the top of San Bernado hill. From here, we could observe the whole city and beyond, and were also fortunate enough to be there while a football match was taking place that we could watch, gratis no less. Up on this hill there is also a statue which is nothing more than a poor imitation of the Christ the Redeemer statue. They didn't even alter the name. Come on guys, try and get some original material. None too impressed by this most blatant copyright infingement, we headed to the main square, to get right in the thick of it. The square is pleasant, but exactly what you[d finds in any city in Argentina, or perhaps South America for that matter. Cafes, Museums, and a splendid looking Cathedral. You know, the usual. We had the pleasure of
The Police
Playing music arriving just as the local police force were playing music to the crowd. Strange, but enjoyable all the same. Then we headed to a museum of which I forget the name, to learn about the history of Salta. I say learn, it was a little challenging as there was no English. That said, I think I got the gist of it. Firstly, early civilisations had been in the area. This I know because of pots and hunting materials in the museum. Then, somewhere along the way the Spanish came along to form the city that is Salta. Apparently as an outpost between Lima and Buenos Aires. There you go, the history of Salta in a few easy and digestible sentences.
From the museum, we carried on strolling about, examing buildings and shops and the like. As this is closer to Andean lands, the effect shines through into the stuff locals are trying to sell to tourists. Ponchos, hats, belts made out of some kind of animal, all the things that are stereotypically to be seen in this little corner of the world. What kind of a mug would actually buy this kind of stuff though? Me, actually. Stopped at
one little shop to find a pair of pin stripe trousers made of linen or something. Tried them on to find that they are outrageously comfy and a bargain at 35 pesos. An additional bonus is that my gringo label is starting to go too far. The amount of people, nay, strangers, who have commented on how ridiculously white I am can no longer be counted. Now I have my trousers, I'm one of the locals for sure. I put them on and headed about town but seemed to be getting more looks that silently conveyed the message to me of 'stupid gringo.' Nobody wears trousers like this. Nobody. Also, they've started to rip in a place I really wish they weren't. Regardless, they're comfy and I´m going to stand by my purchase.
That was the cíty. There are two things we have not yet done. Firstly, there is a museum displaying bodies found at the top of moment that are thousands of years old but were perfectly preserved because of the altitude. That should be interestíng, as questions such as 'why did they head to the top of a mountain in the first place' instantly spring to mind.
The city plaza
This is the cathedral, I think We couldn't find it on the first day but are determined not to be beaten. Secondly, there is the 'train to the clouds.' This ís a train that takes you all the way up in to the mountains but, and here is the slap in the face, wont be open till July. Shame.
Nevertheless, Salta had impressed. The buildings were quaint and attractive, the people were friendly, and the place as a whole seemed very relaxing and tranquil. But, in order to truly get the measuré of this place, we needed to see how things were at night time. When we arrived on our first day we felt too tired to go out after our day long bus trip. On the Saturday, I passed out at eleven o'clock because I'd eaten too much beef from the Asado. Nope, it would be Sunday when we would have our opportunity to see how this city operated after hours. Balcarce street is the place to go. About four straight blocks of pubs clubs and restaurants. Having had a few glasses of Quilmes in the hostel, we hit a bar and desired something a little sweeter for the palate. We ordered two Daiquiris,
My new trousers
Comfy is the key word here people which arrived in tall glasses with umbrellas and fruit. Not the picutre of ultra masculinity normally associated with myself. I felt like del boy, and so we swiftly switched back to the beers. Even so, there was a band playing some Argentinian rock which isn't nowhere near as bad as it sounds. We tried out another place over the street, which was just as enjoyable. More drinks, more music, to which people were dancing rather bizarrely to, and we got chatting to some locals of about our age. All was fun as we exchanged stories, and one let it be known it was here birthday. After here friends had treated her to a rendition of complianos feliz, the two english folk decided it was time for a cross cultural celebration of sorts and pulled out the classic happy birthday. Everything was going well, the locals loved it, yet a moment of apprehension swept over me just as I said the 'happy' for the third time. I'd forgotten the name of this woman I'd been introduced to no more than an hour earlier. The name being something I was supposed to be bellowing out within the time it takes to sing
'birthday'and 'dear.' No problem, I have a partner in crime, he'll get me through this. I turn my head forty five degrees to the right to see Aaron, who greets me with the exact same facial expression I was apparently giving him. He'd forgotten as well. As such, the third line of this most jubilant and personal song deteriorated into 'Happy Birthday dear mhppenmcbfeihihehferihfljh' Undeterred, we powered through and when finished everyone applauded so perhaps they thought it was some kind of slang word for person. Then again, maybe they thought two drunken foreigners had forgotten the name of this poor girl. Probably the latter. Even so, they had a friend who owned a bar a little distance away. It was closed but he opened up for us 'friends'and treated us to a free drink and the his musical talents on the guitar. Quite a night.
We woke the next day determined to get back into exploring mode. Salta is worth a visit, but so too are the towns of the province itself, and we wanted to see what we could. The two we earmarked as worthy of a day were Cachi and Cafayate. Hopefully these would turn out
Me
Stealing some blokes llama to be more enjoyable than our trip to San Lorenzo. This is a small village roughly half an hour from the hostel that we caught the bus to. We were told to go because of the great views, but arrived to be less than impressed. There was literally nothing, and the views were a few fields. Shame on you San Lorenzo, you let us down. We had an ice cream and left. That experience behind us, we booked an excursion to Cafayate and were off the following day. The drive of four hours was note worthy for the landscape we were treated to. Apparently this whole region used to be under a lake thirty thousands years ago. That is long gone, but what it left behind are some fairly unworldly sights. One such being the amphitheatre, a place we actually visited on our drive home. Because of how this place was formed, it turned out to be acoustically perfect, and as such some local wíth a guitar demonstrated. Most impressive.
Cafayate itself. A nice looking town, but most notable because this is wine territory. I'll admit I've never been the biggest wine man. Sure, when times were hard at
On to the wine tasting
She wasn't generous enough with her pouring if you ask me uni a pleasant evening may have necessitated purchasing a three pound box of country manor from asda, but aside from that I wouldn't say I'm too brushed up on the subject. That is before the wine tasting in Cafayate. We visited two vineyards that have changed my life for good. The tasting was obviously a highlight, but we also learnt about the type of wine, how it was made and so on. I am now a wine genius, the peak of sophistication I might add, and my days of beer swilling are over. At least in the short term.
After a hearty lunch with our guide and the other two people on the trip, we headed back to Salta after what was a very enjoyable day. Now we had to gear ourselves up for the following days trip, this being to Cachi. This one was a little different however, as we decided to do away with the guide, hire a car and get out on the very open road. We picked up a rental car on the night and headed back to the hostel. This first drive was probably the trickiest, what with it taking place in the city
centre, driving on the other side of the road, and getting familiar with Argentinian attitudes to driving. You basically just have to give as good as you get, slow down at junctions because there will be something going across your path and it wont stop, and hope for the best really. The following morning we headed off and took the fairly direct route to Cachi that took all of four hours. Once we left the city and the road became a dirt track we found ourselves having to scale mountain and cross numerous water hazards, plus because of the high altitude we were and weather it was incredibly misty at times, so much so that you couldn't see twenty feet ahead of you on a road that had a fairly steep drop to the side of it. However, we eventually arrived safe and sound in Cachi, a small town with only a few shops for look around and a few bars. In actual fact, the journey was the best part, as the views were incredible. Occasionally we'd stop off for photo opportunities, including one stop where there were plenty of Cactii. Plenty of classic shots from that stop I tell
The VW Golf
Our wagon for the ride to Cachi thee.
That was Cachi. And that indeed is pretty much Salta. We headed back on the night because there was another award winning Asado on offer. Since then we have been planning our next route and have just booked our bus to San Pedro de Atacama on Sunday. That is in Chile and so I'll be drawing a line under Argentina next time you hear from me. Its been Good.
Regards.
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