Salt and peppers

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Salta and Jujuy

One of the many things I like about Buenos Aires is getting lost in the crowd. (And by that I don't mean wandering down Calle Florida on a Saturday afternoon). Whereas in Spain my skin and eye-colour gave me away as a likely guiri, and any time I opened my mouth I merely confirmed this, in Buenos Aires - as well as other parts of the country - European ancestry (and not just Spanish and Italian) is clearly evident in the features of many locals, meaning that the foreigner sign on my forehead is not as big or as neon as it is in Spain. I wouldn't go so far as to say I look like a lugareña, but I like to think I enjoy a certain level of cultural anonymity, especially when I stay quiet. (Perversely, when I speak to someone in Spanish here, I actually get asked what part of Spain I'm from). So spending a few days in an area of the country where huge numbers of locals possess physical characteristics indicative of indigenous descent meant a return to the feeling of being an outsider. Passing myself off as a Porteña would be wishful thinking, especially when accompanied on this trip by three vociferous Spaniards. Maybe I could be a gallega. But enough of my personal desire to evade cultural pigeonholing.

Compared to the small towns and villages of the region, the provincial capital and tourist centre of Salta is positively cosmopolitan. Beyond the colonial architecture of the city centre lies a world of dirt streets, adobe structures and hillside graveyards scattered along the roads that lead to some of the area's tourist attractions. Cloud forests, vineyards, salt flats, tobacco fields, multi-coloured gorges and one of the highest railways in the world merit more than the few days we had. (At least we didn't miss out on the train journey due to our time constraints - the service was suspended in 2005 following a breakdown). But huge contrasts are what I've come to expect in Argentina. The opulent and elegant or alternatively ultra-modern, avant-garde bars and boutiques of Buenos Aires would put any European capital to shame, and yet in a province across the country women kneel by the roadside praying at semi-pagan shrines while others shy away from cameras believing that by taking their photo you're stealing their soul. In Buenos Aires a woman injects collagen into her lips and implants silicon in her breasts; in the province of Salta a suspicious husband plugs his wife's vagina with chewed coca leaves to discourage her from being unfaithful in his absence.

But back to the more typical sights... The route to the small town of Cachi winds up a mountainside, down through a cactus-strewn national park (Los Cardones), and includes a stretch of road known as the Recta de Tin-Tin, apparently as straight as one would achieve with today's modern technology, yet constructed by an indigenous group using torches as landmarks. After a spell in sleepy Cachi we set off for Salta again, via a slightly different route. Having seen pictures of piles of peppers drying in the sun in the fields around Cachi, I was disappointed that we hadn't come across any. Then, halfway along a dusty hillside road in the middle of nothingness, neatly laid out within the walls of some ruins, we spied some and stopped to have a look. Out of nowhere a leathery figure approached and I had a sudden image of us being chased off private property by rabid llamas and a shotgun-toting agricultor. Instead, the man introduced himself and chatted to us and, asking me if I could cook, gave me a bundle of peppers to take with us. I hadn't the heart to confess my pathetic lack of culinary ability.

The Salinas Grandes are an extensive salt flat north west of Salta's capital and can be reached via the hairpin bends of the Cuesta de Lipán in Jujuy province. The scenic mountainside route climbs to an altitude of 4,170 metres above sea level (that's not quite halfway up Mount Everest) and we were glad to be feeling no effects of puna, or altitude sickness, yet, despite not having bothered to chew the coca leaves recommended to combat this malady (you never know where they've been...).
The vast salt flat stretches out under an almost perpetually blue sky, the huge white expanse searing your eyes and the throbbing sun ready to burn you to bits. Huddled by the negligible shade of a salt-block structure, a local salt-harvester sat wrapped up like an IRA terrorist with a head cold in an effort to protect himself from exposure in the harsh environment.

Back down the Cuesta de Lipán, we reached Purmamarca, one of a number of small towns and villages along the multi-coloured Quebrada de Humahuaca gorge. This scenic route leads to the eponymous town of Humahuaca, crossing the Tropic of Capricorn near the hamlet of Huacalera, and also passes by the settlement of Tilcara. This town is home to a pre-Incan pukará, or fortress, and a mummy found in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, neither of which we managed to see since the museum was closing just as we arrived. My previous attempts to view a desiccated human being had also been thwarted when the friendly curator of Salta's Museo Antropológico Leguizamón explained that the corpse had been placed in protective storage following recent damp weather in the area.
No ruins, no human sacrificial remains and the only llama we'd come across was on a plate. As the curator told me, "en la vida siempre hay que dejar algo por ver".

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Guiri = slang term in Spain for a foreigner, often of Northern European/North American origin (or at least appearance!)
Lugareño/a = local
Porteño/a = the name given to those from the city of Buenos Aires
Gallego/a = someone from Galicia, Spain. In Argentina the term is often used to refer to all Spaniards because many of the Spanish emigrants who settled in Argentina were from this region in Spain.
En la vida siempre hay que dejar algo por ver = roughly, ‘in life, one should always leave something to see’.



Thanks, Raul, for your photographic contribution! And Dad, for Chespi's story of the alternative use for coca leaves...

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Photos

Salinas IV
Salt structure, Salinas Grandes.

On the road to the salt flats
No puna effects yet...

Cuesta del Obispo, Salta
This roadway leads (eventually!) to Cachi, and passes through the Parque Nacional Los Cardones.

Parque Los Cardones I
A donkey offers to lick the car window clean

Cachi III
View of Cachi from the cemetery

Roadside shrine, Salta province
This is one of a number of roadside shrines found throughout Argentina and dedicated to the folk hero Gauchito Gil. This one was equipped with two barbecues should all that worship give one an appetite.

Tumbaya II
These ladies didn't seem too bothered by the camera, and in fact seem to be running towards it!