Cordoba

Cachi to Cafayate

Salta and to Cachi

I was going to spend a little more time around the region, visit the national park, las Yungas which is beautiful and part of the amazon but... i became eager to get to Salta since I could meet up with Marlene, Philippe, Jorge (AKA Che) and Fernando and Eva - sound popular? i was for a day...

This time round Salta wasn´t as hot as last December, geez it was unbearable then. It was kind of cool but sunny and nice, i even visited the museum with all he local history, though i understood very little. There, having a kitchen, i started to bring home lots of meat, in fact i ate steak everyday. I forgot, or in my poverty in buenos aires just didn´t get much of it, how bleeding delicious the beef is here. We, as australians, make mean barbecues and all that, and i have debated over who has the best bbq in the world, but i´m afraid i´ve now gotta give in, these guys have it! The bbq restaurants, Parillada, have these huge grills with wood! The lazy cows than live on flat planes offer the most tender and delicious chunks of meat you can imagine... i´m drooling.

I also got taken out to a Peña, which is kind of a place to eat and also to listen to folk music. There´re lots around, many with full-on shows, musicians on stage, dancers dressed up. But do you think i´d pay for something that constructed? Place i went to, La Casona, had very good and cheap food and wine, in an old huge homestead so that there were separate rooms with tables basically, and folks with their own guitars who come in, sit, eat, drink and start singing, and so does anyone who wants to basically. Singing and playing music simply for the pleasure of it, simply to be around appreciative ears. And they were good. I´m afraid i got blind drunk that night... cos my eyes got so small i had trouble seeing.

San Lorenzo was 5 km out of town, you could say an outer suburb, where we heard there was a river to walk along, again, and somewhere in the nature that we could pass the time. As my bus rolled in i realised the only people on my bus were the workers who attended the huge mansions that were apearing before my eyes. They were beautiful, big lawns and lots of horses n the street. The place was lush and posh. Well, off on our walk we went surrounded by amazing butterflies, slippery rocks by the low-lieing river and lots of horse dung. I knew i was in argentina, there were mate yerba dumpings every 30 odd metres along the river (where mate was drunk and then the used tea leaves where dumped).

And a week later i split with Phillip and my new found frenchy mate, Delphine, to Cachi, a little town near the mountains. There day after day we tried to get up early to take nature walks and appreciate the fresh air and scenery. But instead we constantly slept in, ate lots of goats cheese, salami, crusty country bread and yummy wine from the region. Since we happen to be there on a Sunday, we got invited to the parilla (bbq) that the old couple who had the place were making like they make every Sunday... i tried to refuse but they wouldn´t have it. We had a ball that afternoon, until the sun went down, it got chilly and gusts of wind came and smacked us out of their backyard.

Three days later i leave with Delphine and our obsession with food continues.

Che, back in town. Humahuaca

Sadly but inevitably, I had to leave Bolivia. 30 days isn´t even enough for me to get a gut bug, let alone get to see this incredibly beautiful and diverse country.

24th April. Had to take 4 am bus to Villazon, the bordering town to Argentina and got there about six, sleep in the eyes and all. There, in the freezing morning, we started to walk to the boarder, crossed, and took our first Argentinian bus. ooh the comfort, the top deck view, the stretch of the legs and the vast open spaces, flat, dry with protruding mountains in the distance, and we had descended about 2000m. Marlene was ultra excited and infected me with the thrill of being back in Argentina, and i stopped lamenting leaving Bolivia.

We got to Humahuaca, a place i really wanted to get to last time i was this way but didn´t have time. Dry, sunny in the day and cold at night, it´s very country and gaocho (cowboy). We stayed there a while but in between we took a side trip out of town for a night. Went to a town called Iruya and the 3 hour ride, albeit in an old school bus, was phenomenal. We ride up, to 4000m again, to see this amazing view of coloured mountains below them a patchwork of fields and then a massive chasm like an ancient earthquake separated the world and left space for a huge wide river, which was running low this time of the year.
And them we descend, again. Down, down in the chasm, winding all the way down and along, to reach Iruya at 2730m. It sits on a cliff face, at risk every year of simply falling off from the river swelling up and erosion. But opposite sit an array of mountain ranges the colours of all the pastels, but as well as stronger colours, blues, greens, purples, yellows, red browns, pinks, oranges...

First thing, we decide to talk a long walk along the river to reach a nearby town, called SanIsidro. Starting at midday and knowing it was 2.5 hour walk each way, we thought we´d make it in time before dark. Not knowing however that it was 11km each way, with a slight incline, and even thought the river was low, we would still have to cross it several times (since we didn´t really know the best places to cross) we got wet only shine high luckily. Spectacular as it was, it was 3.5 hours later that we say another joining river and a church on a cliff face which didn´t really look that far. But it would be another half hour climb, exhausted and desperate for a ride back. Marlene said when we arrived to the village, let´s not look too desperate for a horse... But there was no one willing at that hour of the afternoon, there was no choice, we rested for 5 minutes and began back.

On our way back we bumped into a local, carrying an oven on his back together with his pregnant companion, who was going our way so we followed their lead. With them we made it in half the time with much less river crossings. But those two! both burdened by weights managed to always walk way ahead of us. Anyways, when we made it back and we felt on top of the world.

Geeez that drive to Iruya was fabulous and impressive. Back to Humahuaca and within a couple of days to SALTA.

ps. anyone know how i can put a caption under my photos?

I was never a cowgirl..

I don´t know if it´s hard to believe but it seems every place in Bolivia i get to is distinct from the last place i was. The drive from Uyuni to Tupiza was a treat. After being bullshitted about the type of bus etc, we start the long dusty road, grannies and kiddies in the aisles as usual always with more hoarded on their back than seems possible to carry. The road, blind bends, winding cliff faces and bumpy.

Tupiza is a smallish town which has a bit of a gringo trail running through it, more than anything probably because it´s close to the boarder with Argentina. But Marlene, the animal lover that she is, enticed me to go horse ridding. Having nothing better to do myself, i went. Our horses had been brought to a corner of a street where we gleefully waited for our guide who was late. Finally a young boy, 10, to explain that the guide had some horse problems and that he´d take us. I huffed and puff at the beginning and said under no circumstances would i go with a child, let alone on the arse end of my horse. I looked at Marlene who shrugged, having no problem with any of this, and next thing i conformed and found myself riding away. Later i had seen that a few other folks that were riding around there that day had also teenage guides, but i must say, ours was the youngest. But no hick-ups really, but i hobbled along, thinking of cowgirls but not quite feeling like one. Yes i was sore the next day...