Long busrides and sore bums

Made it to Iguazu, and indeed it is the most spectacular waterfall in the world. Stayed at the rock-star hotel, cold beer on the side of the pool and all. But had to move on. Even poped over to Brazil for the day and overdosed on juice, can´t get enough of their mixes.

Theresa and i headed northwest to some of the most varied and spectacular landscape imaginable. Ditched the big city of Tucuman and went straight to little valley called Tafí del Valle, 28 hours later on a bus, hense the sore bottom. (On the bus we played bingo and after the 1st 3 winners couldn´t claim their prize because they couldn´t come out with an obligatory joke, i was 3rd runner up and even though i couldn´t come up with one either, i gave them a run down of my life - another joke and won the prize - a bottle of wine with the bus company´s name on it..)

In Tafí is where my holidays really started. Small town, no noise, no fumes, no rude people, just blue skies fondled by big cottonwool clouds which kept creeping over the mountains that surrounded the valley. We even ditched the 2 hostels available there and opted for the one of the locals, Julián, who had a quaint little place in his backyard, accommodation that would fit max of 3. oh boy did i relax, but i was still suffering from sitting-in-bus-too-long syndrome so we walked up a little hill and waited 20 minutes from when we saw the clouds come over the mountains till the came and washed over us literally - so we were in the clouds!! (no photos, camera´s broken) We loved it, but seeing we were on a tight schedule to get to Cusco by the 24th, and go through the province and then Chile, we had only 3 days there. The time we have won´t do the zone one ounce of justice so we restricted ourselves and selected 2 more places to see.

So when we were about to leave Tafí Julián convinced us to stay another night and accompany us for 3 days up to Salta, it seems he had nothing better to do. He began by taking us around the town and to his friends´ houses up the mountain where they had etched a simple existence, producing their own food often, making arts and crafts (artesanias) and basically living where they could wake up everyday and kiss the sky, wet their feet in the river and contemplate the sound of the wind. Well, i´m no hippy fan, but these were the real Macoy and i liked them. Doors were open everywhere we went and you know country folks, they´re so fucking friendly and generous it just spins you out sometimes. So we crashed that night at his mate´s place seeing the cottage we had was taken after roast chicken and vegies and some of the locally produced wine.

Then the road trip starts. We left lucious water-abundant cool Tafí and over the mountain 50 kms or so later we´re in desert country, arid and more cacti than you can poke a prick with. Keep in mind we´re in the outback, folks are Country and life is quite cruel, but people don´t look at us funny even though we got superduper hiking boots on, a backpack and sitting in the town square, under a tree at least, when everyone else is having a siesta inside. This is Amaichá del Valle, a hidden village, to wonder down and bump into one of the most incredible museums or indigenous exhibitions i have ever encountered - yes, in the middle of nowhere i tells ya! The most impressive part was it´s construction with coloured rocks forming patterns on the grounds, walls, and the sculptures over a huge area.. can´t do it justice, you´ll have to see photos.

Julián picks up his stash and we head to Quilmes, the abandoned site of the tribes-peoples, called Quilmes, who maintained their fort in this monstorous valley amoungst other nations. They resisted and managed to fight off the Inkas and also the Spanish invadors for about 150 years, until they were overpowered and then they were taken to Buenos Aires on foot (a 30hour+ bus ride so imagine walking it in chains). The irony is that although they were annihilated eventually, the place where they they were brought is now their name´s sake, and it is also the site of the biggest brewery in Argentina (i think), making it the most drunk beer: Quilmes. Funny how once your dead you´re ants-pants, people will pay to see where you lived, although before they would´ve promoted a policy of destroying you and your evil ways; and once your people have been masacared they´ll take your name, cos it seems trendy enough and name a beer after you (i suppose some would take that as a compliment huh?), so cheers!

Stay tuned for next installment, Cafayate to come...