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Published: August 4th 2010
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Villazon was a bustling town, made prosperous for being cheaper than its Argentinian neighbour La Quiaca therefore more popular for thrifty tourists. Avoiding the numerous shoe, textile and cake shops that lined the route to the border, we changed our remaining Bolivianos into Pesos and completed the crossing, waiting for 30mins on the Argentinian side for our entry stamp (strangely, no entry form though - first country not to have one).
We followed the straggling line of tourists walking to the bus station in La Quiaca and were dismayed to find that the next bus to Salta (that we could see - the station was rather a melee of offices and locals) did not leave until 8pm - in 4 hours time. This was doubly disappointing as the journey was only scheduled to be 7-8 hours long meaning we would be dropped at Salta at an unsociable 4am. Sigh. Settling down on a wall surrounded by the other often bemused looking patrons of the terminal, we delved into our bags for books (then tied the around our legs) and disappeared into our on little worlds - with stray dogs for company.
Feeling tired and sick of sitting in the
cold, we boarded the bus and began to settle for the night, hoping to get a little sleep on the short-ish journey. Our hopes were shattered by firstly the heating (a blessing if it had been managed properly) being on full blast next to us meaning I wanted to remove more garments than I had on, then a movie being played on the higher end of the decibel scale. After this, just as we had begun to drift off 2 hours later, officials boarded and wanted to see our passports. These interruptions we had experienced before so were glad when were left in peace......until 2am. At this point, more officials told us that we would have to disembark and, from watching the other passengers, we also had to collect our baggage (stored under the bus) and wait in the freezing cold to have them searched - probably for drugs, with us still being relatively close to the Bolivian border.
This was a long-winded process with some people having bags of blankets upturned and others whole suitcases plundered - most of which, when finished with, were discarded behind the 'investigation table' for the helpless owner to repack. Needless to say
we were not looking forward to reaching the front of the line as our bags were both padlocked and jam-packed full to the point we were unsure as to whether they would be able to be re-closed. We unlocked them and removed the rain covers in preparation...
As we faced the official he asked for our passports (one at a time) and despite being ready for inspection, he barely glanced at our documents before waving us through! Obviously being a British tourist means we pose no threat :-) It was thankfully only another 20mins in the cold (!) before we could board (the now acceptably warm) bus and an hour or so of quiet before reaching Salta station.
Collecting our bags from the tip-demanding baggage man, we wandered into the rather smart terminal and grabbed a couple of seats in which to read/nap until the sun came up at 7:30am - at which point we walked through a section of park to our hostel. Securing a double room we gratefully threw (almost - too heavy for any real distance) our bags down and curled up on the comfy bed, ready to regain some of our lost sleep. Salta
could wait until the afternoon.
At 4pm we ventured out but, due to lack of any real sustenance that day, our walk only took us to the local supermarket (joy - an actual supermarket with prices and choice!) for the first of many steaks and some Dulce de Leche (sweet condensed-milk like substance which is an obsession in Argentina) - Warren wanted some with his already sticky 'medialunas' (croissant like pastries). That night was spent cooking a nice meal of steak, onion and potato - very welcome after having scant kitchen facilities in Bolivia - and then back to the room for use of wifi (again, a real treat) and more sleep.
The next day - fully refreshed - we breakfasted and headed out into Salta. The buildings in general are well kept and the streets are interspersed with several plazas, varying in size making for a pleasant environment. Our first stop was the park which we had passed through the previous day - albeit in a daze - to find one of the several stray dogs that live there to feed our steak scraps to. We had been 'adopted' by a dog at the terminal who had
followed us the majority of the way to the hostel and we had hoped he was in the park but alas, it was another poor mutt who was the beneficiary.
From here (after posing by the lake) we directed ourselves to the main square where, once again we had managed to time our visit with some form of celebration or other - marching band and mounted men in uniform. A short while playing the spectator here then a turn round the square taking in the cathedral and the lonnnng queue at the Anthropological museum. Apparently the celebration was for the 'Argentinian winter holiday' and thus local crowds had gathered at this popular city to see the sights - we HAD timed it well.
Forfeiting the museum for the next day, we further explored the pretty city, admiring architecture and looking in shop windows hunting for promised bargain leather boots - and finding similar prices to back home. At least the weather was warm! In celebration of this, we ventured onto the roof terrace and sunned ourselves while drinking beer. Excellent way to spend a couple of hours!
Deciding we should book our bus tickets to Mendoza in
advance to ensure seats (during the festive period) we revisited the bus terminal the next morning and purchased them (rather expensive - nearly£50 each - a mark up from a similar length for £12 in Bolivia!). Unexpectedly, we bumped into the couple we had met as we left New Zealand who were also on the same Santiago flight as us - weird! We had a nice chat as we accompanied each other to the town centre and swapped crucial hostel info, then said goodbye - again :-)
Our return visit to the museum was more fruitful with no waiting time and immediate entrance to see the much admired and controversial 'children of the mountain'. The main point of the museum, apart from to enlighten you on the Inca life and customs, is to explain about how 3 mummified bodies of children from the 1500s had been discovered in shrines on the highest mountain of the Andes, giving detail as to why they had been placed there and to display them in turn. It was an interesting place - if not a little short on displays in English - and the body of 'The Maiden' was fascinating: very detailed and
barely decomposed due to the extreme cold conditions in which they had been 'preserved'.
More meandering through the city streets saw the afternoon to a close and after stocking up on steak, potatoes and wine (the first two being new dietary staples) we retired to prepare for the following day's journey.
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