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Alrighty, sooo ...
After we finally left Brasil and arrived back into Argentina, we decided to leg it straight across the country so that we could be a few steps closer to Bolivia. We sussed out the places we could have possibly visited and decided it wasnt worth stopping for. So we hopped on another 24 hour bus ride from Iguacu to Salta, in the North West of Argentina.
By the time we got off the bus I was even sicker, the re-circulating aircon from the bus really didnt agree with my bronchitis. I couldnt stop coughing, everything was irritating my throat/lungs.
We found a decent hostel in Salta and I spent the day in bed - the only thing was, although a cool hostel with loads of rec rooms and free dinner, the rooms at the hostel were damp and mouldy. Breathing in mould all night was as bad as breathing in smoke fumes all night for me. The next day we walked around Salta to explore, including climbing up a few hundred steps to the lookout point, and attempting to see a doctor with my limited spanish! Salta is a decent enough place, with some nice
historic buildings, But nothing really interesting to do in the city itself. The funny thing was the traffic - no signs/traffic lights or anything. And a lot of 4 way intersections where as a pedestrian you could get run down from any direction.
On our third day in Salta we did a full day trip around the area to see all the amazing scenery. We followed the same path as 'el tren a las nubes' (the train to the clouds - a popular train ride). The road basically snakes through and around the mountain ranges up to an altitude of 4000m. Some of the rock formations and colours were breathtaking. Around the area the geographic formations are called quebradas. I couldnt take enough photos. We saw some ancient ruins, salt plains, the 7 coloured mountain and a heap of cacti. We also ate the most delicious goat stew and llama steaks 😊 And we spared a thought for people like my brother Mark, who would have loved to taken their speed demon cars around these windy roads.
After the day trip we decided to go a little bit south of Salta to a place called Cafayete, renowned for
its wineries (or as they are called here, "bodegas"). It was only a 3.5 hour bus ride and we decided to stay a couple of days because, hey, we both love the vino.
We spent one whole day trying to do our own little wine tour. But alas it was nothing like margaret river or the swan valley back home (very easy, with looooooots of free tasters). We rocked up at the first winery, where they only open on certain hours. And you have to do the tour before you can try the wine. The entire tour was in Spanish. And while my spanish is definitely improving it hasnt really extended to grape vine/distillation talk haha. Hayden understood a few words like 'vino tinto' (red wine) and 'vino blanco' (white wine) hehe, so it was even more frustrating for him. Finally once the tour was over we got to sample ... a whole 3 wines. And the tasting sizes were tiny (a gulp each).
So we left that winery and headed to another one that was supposed to be open (everything closes for siesta in this area of Argentina - it was very annoying). Except they werent open.
So we went to another winery and asked to skip the tour and head straight for the tastings. We paid the fee and got to taste another 3 wines of tiny sizing.
We went back to the previous winery, which was now open, and got to try the tiniest tasting of only 2 wines. The next winery was back out of the town again, so we got dropped off in a taxi. But it had closed its tasting cellar for good. So since we were literally in the middle of the desert (unfortunately no taxi stand in sight), we decided to walk to the last winery. After a long walk in the blinding heat and dry desert we finally arrived at the last bodega ... where we had to sit through half of another tour (in spanish) and we received another 2 tiny tastings.
After that we gave up on las bodegas!!
I am officially writing off the wineries/bodegas in Cafayete. I do not really recommend going there purely for the winery experience! But it is definitely a gorgeous little (emphasis on the 'little') town. Ah well, live and learn. On the flip side though, at our
hostel, we did meet a lovely Irish couple who were both doctors - they checked me out and told me another type of antibiotic to take, since the first course/type didnt do any good.
We left Cafayate sooner then we had thought because some friends of ours that we had met in Flori were waiting in Salta (hi Ryan and Jo).
When we arrived in Salta it was great to see our mates, and they had some excellent plans for things to do. Except thats when I hit a wall. I couldnt move, talk, anything really. I had a shower, got dressed up, and then I just crashed out in bed all feverish and fluey. Hayden and the others went out and had a great night - they had found some random locals house party where every room had someone playing live music. Although all of them came back horribly drunk. Poor Jo was puking all night, and Hayden managed to fall out of the top bunk bed (ouch - but he didnt remember and didnt have any random bruises the next day haha). He also must have been dreaming in spanish, because during the night he randomly
yelled out "uno mas por favor" (one more please). hahaha.
The next day we had planned to catch the midnight bus to the Bolivian border. I was still too sick to move so I ended up paying for the bed at the hostel for another night so that i could stay still until we had to catch our bus. I was also lucky enough to develop a gastro-like reaction to the strong antibiotics i was taking (seriously, could things get any worse!?).
Our mate Ryan summed me up entirely - I had managed to rouse myself out of bed to go to the toilet, and as i walked past the rec room Ryan looked up and said "Wow, is that Leah or an extra from the Thriller music video?" hahaha.
Anyways, we made our midnight bus, (we managed to get the last 4 seats) and 7 hrs later arrived at the border town of Argentina - La Quiaca.
Most of us had heard horror stories about crossing the border to Bolivia but to be honest it was really easy. We hopped off the bus, grabbed our packs, added a few extra layers of clothing (it was
freeezing), walked 15 minutes around the corner to where the Argentinian immigration office was. Lined up for about an hour to get our Argentinian exit stamps. Then we stood in no mans land for about 30 minutes (a bridge smack in the middle between Argentina and Bolivia), and waited for our turn to get our Bolivian Entry stamps. A few dollars later and we were in Bolivia.
SO I will leave this story here, and tell you all about Bolivia in the next blog.
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