As I leave Argentina, I want to add details of a few small occurences and observations that haven't made it into the general blog.
Dogs. Everyone here, it seems, has at least one dog and they bark constantly. I can't recall a night when I haven't, at some point, lain awake and heard all the dogs in the town barking!
Random pizza toppings. One night in Salta, an American girl and I decided to share a Hawaiian pizza. When it arrived, as well as having the usual toppings you'd expect on such a pizza, it also had tinned peaches and cream on top. Not sour cream, actual sweet cream. Wrong in so many ways.
In the supermarket, there are generally massive queues. This is because people don't pack their own shopping, but let the cashier pack for them (with approximately two items per bag). When I start to pack my own shopping, and especially when I put it in my own bag, I get looked at very strangely!
Coins are scarce in Argentina. Everyone is constantly hoarding change and small notes, and many shops won't accept large notes as payment. I actually feel guilty that I left the country with about five Argentinian coins. Maybe I'll donate them to someone heading in the other direction to me...
Although it has been getting pretty cold at night, it is still mostly warm in the day. The locals, however, still wander round wearing coats and scarves.
People and places keep strange hours, most shops open for the morning and then close between 12/1 and 6pm, to reopen for the evening. People go out for dinner at 10pm at the earliest. I've discovered that the best way to maintain these hours is to have a siesta between about 5 and 7.... or even 6 and 8.
There is sugar in EVERYTHING. And lots of it.
Even in small towns, there are multiple (maybe ten or so) shops selling exactly the same thing. I'm not entirely sure how they all stay in business. It's the same with market stalls.
About a month ago, the watch I bought especially to take travelling decided to break. As I generally need to know the time to catch buses, I now have to carry my alarm clock in my bag wherever I go. This would be fine if it didn't beep every time it received the slightest knock. At one point, I wasn't sure how to turn my alarm off so I decided to just set it to a time that wouldn't be too inconvenient. However, I forgot about this the next day and it went off as I was crossing the border from Paraguay to Argentina. Having something beeping in your bag is less than ideal when navigating passport control!
Thursday, 30 June 2011
Heading north to Bolivia
I finally got myself in gear to head north on Tuesday so hopped on a bus to Tilcara. Four(ish) hours later, after driving through incredibly colourful mountains, I arrived in the small town. Although the guide book said that my hostel offered free pick up, I decided that it would be pretty easy to walk there as the town was so small. I was not, however, prepared for the altitude. Even a gentle walk leaves you out of breath, so the trek to the hostel, carrying my backpack, was actually quite a struggle...the last 100 metres uphill especially so.
I arrived to find that I was the only guest but, as I was only staying one night, that didn't matter too much. One of the beds in the dorm wasn't actually a bunk, so I took advantage of being able to sit on my bed without hunching forward to avoid a top bunk, and removed the risk of hitting my head if I sat up too quickly in the night! The hostel, and room, was full of loads of old knick knacks, and there was, what appeared to be a working, log burner in my room.
I decided to head out to walk up to the Pucará, which is the old fortress in Tilcara, but not before admiring the view from the hostel garden...
After a little wander around the market (I'm holding off buying Alpaca/Llama goods until I reach Bolivia, where they are much cheaper), I stopped to buy some hot, pitta type, bread from a roadside stall before commencing on my walk. Still feeling quite short of breath, and nauseaus, from the altitude, I'm not sure a walk was the best plan, but I only had this one afternoon in Tilcara, so just took it slowly.
After worrying that I had gotten lost, I finally came upon the fortress and slowly began the climb. Fortunately the slope was gentle, but it was still hard work and, added to the nausea and breathlessness, I kept spinning out! The trek was worth if for the views, and I'm sure it will have helped me to acclimatise.
I wandered slowly back to the hostel, stopping for a cup of tea on the way (I thought it might help the nausea), and arrived to find the log fire blazing in my room. It was still a little chilly (the Argentineans have a great need for draft excluders) so I huddled up in one of the many available alpaca blankets. As the sky darkened, there was a power cut. Fortunately my torch was to hand but, after an hour or so of reading by candlelight (and torch light), I decided to head out for dinner. I decided to go traditionally Andean and had Llama steak for the first time. It was quite nice - rather like a cross between lamb and pork. I had a glass of wine with my dinner, and it went straight to my head. The advice to deal with altitude is to eat only a little, and drink little alcohol - advice that goes against alll my instincts! When I got back to the hostel, the fire had really warmed the room, so I snuggled up for a cosy sleep.
The next morning I had my breakfast overlooking the mountains before heading to the bus station to go to Humahuaca. The main 'sight' in Humahuaca is the life size statue of San Francisco Solano that emerges from the clock tower at noon. I wasn't really feeling it in Humahuaca so, having made it to see this (somewhat over-hyped) sight at midday, I decided to get on the next bus to La Quiaca to cross the border to Bolivia.
Border crossing is always fun as I'm never quite sure if I'm in the right building, let alone queue. I managed to 'exit' Argentina without incident and starting chatting to an English guy, so we navigated Bolivia immigration together. We then went in search of a cashpoint, to withdraw some Bolivanos, before finding the next bus to Tupiza. The different bus companies were practically fighting over our custom so we just went for the one that left the earliest. Whilst waiting for the bus, I decided to treat myself to some freshly squeezed orange juice, from a street seller, for the extortionate cost of about 25p.
When we got on our bus, and after being made to move seats twice, we drove around the block before stopping for an hour for no apparent reason! After this frustrating start, we were pleased to find that the bus journey was about an hour shorter than expected. The drive through the Bolivian countryside was really quite dismal. All the landscape and houses were the same dreary beige. The sun setting over the blue glowing mountains was, in contrast, absolutely spectacular. There are large chunks of road that aren't paved, which made for a rather bumpy ride. They actually seemed to be working on all these unpaved stretches, so I'm not sure if they are being paved for the first time, or repaired following flood damage.
We arrived in Tupiza in the dark, so checked into the nearest hostel (which, after investigations this morning, appears to be the best) where they immediately tried to sell us a tour to the Salt Flats. Once we managed to persuade them that we wouldn't be going on a tour the next day, we headed out to grab some food. Relying on the Lonely Planet for a recommendation meant that the place was full of backpackers, and I bumped into three people who had been checking into my room as I checked out in Salta.
I headed to the local markets in the morning, hoping to be overwhelmed with the choice of Alpaca wear to keep me warm at the salt flats, only to find, for the first time, markets actually aimed at locals rather than tourists. Many of the Bolivian women were wearing fabulous traditional dress - full skirts, aprons, alpaca socks with sandals, hair in two long plaits and bowler hats. They are generally either carrying a bundle of stuff or a small child on their backs. Unfortunately they are somewhat reluctant to be photographed but you can see some examples here and here.
I finally found a store that sold what I was looking for and, whilst loading up with socks, gloves and a jumper, I met an English couple who were heading off on a four day tour of the salt flats (and surrounding areas) the next day. They had room for another person in their jeep so suggested I join them. As they had been recommended this tour company by someone they had met in Uyuni, I decided to go for it. There are so many tour companies here that word of mouth recommendation is the only way to choose.
Realising that I didn't have enough clean underwear for the next four days, I put my laundry in with the hostel. They promised that my laundry would be back by 7.30am, and the tour left at 8.30am, I really hoped that they would be true to their word...
I arrived to find that I was the only guest but, as I was only staying one night, that didn't matter too much. One of the beds in the dorm wasn't actually a bunk, so I took advantage of being able to sit on my bed without hunching forward to avoid a top bunk, and removed the risk of hitting my head if I sat up too quickly in the night! The hostel, and room, was full of loads of old knick knacks, and there was, what appeared to be a working, log burner in my room.
I decided to head out to walk up to the Pucará, which is the old fortress in Tilcara, but not before admiring the view from the hostel garden...
After a little wander around the market (I'm holding off buying Alpaca/Llama goods until I reach Bolivia, where they are much cheaper), I stopped to buy some hot, pitta type, bread from a roadside stall before commencing on my walk. Still feeling quite short of breath, and nauseaus, from the altitude, I'm not sure a walk was the best plan, but I only had this one afternoon in Tilcara, so just took it slowly.
 |
| The rights of the child |
After worrying that I had gotten lost, I finally came upon the fortress and slowly began the climb. Fortunately the slope was gentle, but it was still hard work and, added to the nausea and breathlessness, I kept spinning out! The trek was worth if for the views, and I'm sure it will have helped me to acclimatise.
I wandered slowly back to the hostel, stopping for a cup of tea on the way (I thought it might help the nausea), and arrived to find the log fire blazing in my room. It was still a little chilly (the Argentineans have a great need for draft excluders) so I huddled up in one of the many available alpaca blankets. As the sky darkened, there was a power cut. Fortunately my torch was to hand but, after an hour or so of reading by candlelight (and torch light), I decided to head out for dinner. I decided to go traditionally Andean and had Llama steak for the first time. It was quite nice - rather like a cross between lamb and pork. I had a glass of wine with my dinner, and it went straight to my head. The advice to deal with altitude is to eat only a little, and drink little alcohol - advice that goes against alll my instincts! When I got back to the hostel, the fire had really warmed the room, so I snuggled up for a cosy sleep.
The next morning I had my breakfast overlooking the mountains before heading to the bus station to go to Humahuaca. The main 'sight' in Humahuaca is the life size statue of San Francisco Solano that emerges from the clock tower at noon. I wasn't really feeling it in Humahuaca so, having made it to see this (somewhat over-hyped) sight at midday, I decided to get on the next bus to La Quiaca to cross the border to Bolivia.
Border crossing is always fun as I'm never quite sure if I'm in the right building, let alone queue. I managed to 'exit' Argentina without incident and starting chatting to an English guy, so we navigated Bolivia immigration together. We then went in search of a cashpoint, to withdraw some Bolivanos, before finding the next bus to Tupiza. The different bus companies were practically fighting over our custom so we just went for the one that left the earliest. Whilst waiting for the bus, I decided to treat myself to some freshly squeezed orange juice, from a street seller, for the extortionate cost of about 25p.
When we got on our bus, and after being made to move seats twice, we drove around the block before stopping for an hour for no apparent reason! After this frustrating start, we were pleased to find that the bus journey was about an hour shorter than expected. The drive through the Bolivian countryside was really quite dismal. All the landscape and houses were the same dreary beige. The sun setting over the blue glowing mountains was, in contrast, absolutely spectacular. There are large chunks of road that aren't paved, which made for a rather bumpy ride. They actually seemed to be working on all these unpaved stretches, so I'm not sure if they are being paved for the first time, or repaired following flood damage.
We arrived in Tupiza in the dark, so checked into the nearest hostel (which, after investigations this morning, appears to be the best) where they immediately tried to sell us a tour to the Salt Flats. Once we managed to persuade them that we wouldn't be going on a tour the next day, we headed out to grab some food. Relying on the Lonely Planet for a recommendation meant that the place was full of backpackers, and I bumped into three people who had been checking into my room as I checked out in Salta.
I headed to the local markets in the morning, hoping to be overwhelmed with the choice of Alpaca wear to keep me warm at the salt flats, only to find, for the first time, markets actually aimed at locals rather than tourists. Many of the Bolivian women were wearing fabulous traditional dress - full skirts, aprons, alpaca socks with sandals, hair in two long plaits and bowler hats. They are generally either carrying a bundle of stuff or a small child on their backs. Unfortunately they are somewhat reluctant to be photographed but you can see some examples here and here.
I finally found a store that sold what I was looking for and, whilst loading up with socks, gloves and a jumper, I met an English couple who were heading off on a four day tour of the salt flats (and surrounding areas) the next day. They had room for another person in their jeep so suggested I join them. As they had been recommended this tour company by someone they had met in Uyuni, I decided to go for it. There are so many tour companies here that word of mouth recommendation is the only way to choose.
Realising that I didn't have enough clean underwear for the next four days, I put my laundry in with the hostel. They promised that my laundry would be back by 7.30am, and the tour left at 8.30am, I really hoped that they would be true to their word...
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Cafayate
Having spent enough time in Salta, I decided to head south to Cafayate - the highest altitude wine growing region in Argentina. The reason the wine from here tastes so good, according to the wine museum, is the difference in temperature between day and night. This is great for the wine, but not so good for me!
The wine museum has recently been revamped so is very modern and informative, however, we really felt it was missing a few strategically placed wine tasting stops as all we wanted to do when walking around was taste some of the delicious wine that we were reading about!
It feels obligatory to drink wine with every meal here. Fortunately, most restaurants serve local wine in 1/4, 1/2 or 1 litre jugs, so lunch time drinking is not as dangerous as it could be. After a spot of lunch, accompanied by the local white 'Torrontes', we headed of to Bodega Nanni for our first bit of wine tasting. The wine smelt and tasted absolutely delicious - my favourite was the Malbec, but then it usually is.
After Nanni we headed to the winery opposite. It was pretty hard to taste the wine here as we were poured such a small amount - perhaps they sensed that we were freeloaders with no intention of buying a bottle! We wandered around a bit more trying to find the only other winery that was open on Sunday, but had no luck. We decided, instead, to settle for wine flavoured sorbet before heading home for a nap to prepare us for a dinner of steak and more wine!
A day or two later, to have a break from wine tasting, I decided to go on a tour into the Quebrada. These colourful rock formations are relics from when huge parts of South America were covered in water...at least I think that's what the Spanish speaking tour guide said! The land formations truly were other worldy, and my camera doesn't do justice to the colours in the rocks and surrounding mountains.
Our route around the Quebrada suffered a few detours due to the flooding that occured with the February rains, washing the road away.
One of the main reasons I actually came to Cafayate was that the guide book said that it was a great place to enjoy wine and nature - and suggested heading into nature with a bottle of wine. With this in mind, Justine and I headed around all the local shops to pick up some delicious salami, locally made goats cheese, avocados, bread and, of course, a bottle of local wine! We then headed up to the river for our picnic in the sun.
Continuing with the theme, I decided to walk to the nearby waterfall the next day. The guidebook simply states that from the Rio Colorado you need to head upstream for two hours to reach the waterfall. Nowhere did it give any indication of the rock climbing that would be necessary to get me there. Loaded up with a small bottle of wine, a picnic and some water, I found a guide (Franco) at the river and we set off. I really should have suspected what lay ahead when he asked if I liked rock climbing...
The climb was actually great fun, I felt like a child again scrambling over all the rocks, and was amazed at the seemingly vertical cliffs I managed to climb. I almost got stuck in a crevice at one point, but managed to navigate my way out. We reached the third waterfall after about 2 1/2 hours, where we sat and shared my lunch.
At the beginning of the trek Franco had told me that he was going to show me the fourth waterfall, which most tourists never see. I assumed this was the usual tour guide speak (and he told everyone this) so, after lunch, headed on up to the fourth waterfall. When we got there, he actually explained to me (in Spanish) that this waterfall is very special in his culture, and implied that, as he had shown it to me, he should receive something in return. I don't really need to go into detail for you to understand what he was hinting at, however, when I point blankly said no, I received a lecture that by saying 'no' I'd offended him, the people of the mountains, and his culture! I pretended to understand less than I actually did, and tried to explain that, in my culture, if you don't want to do something, you don't do it, and there is never any obligation. I managed to get my point across, and we headed back down the mountain, but it was a little disconcerting having this debate with my guide at the top of a mountain when I was relying on him to get me down to the bottom safely.
Everything turned out fine in the end, but it was a bit of a reality check about travelling as a lone female. I don't think I'll be heading off on any tours with a guide on my own again...
My body was obviously very unprepared for two hours of rock climbing (plus two hours coming back down) and moving, sitting, standing, etc has been rather painful for the last couple of days... luckily I was recommended somewhere to go for a massage today and, although my muscles still ache, I feel slightly better, and very relaxed.
I'm heading back to Salta in the next couple of days, and then over San Pedro de Atacama in Chile for some star gazing in the desert before I head north to Bolivia....where it's even colder :(
The wine museum has recently been revamped so is very modern and informative, however, we really felt it was missing a few strategically placed wine tasting stops as all we wanted to do when walking around was taste some of the delicious wine that we were reading about!
It feels obligatory to drink wine with every meal here. Fortunately, most restaurants serve local wine in 1/4, 1/2 or 1 litre jugs, so lunch time drinking is not as dangerous as it could be. After a spot of lunch, accompanied by the local white 'Torrontes', we headed of to Bodega Nanni for our first bit of wine tasting. The wine smelt and tasted absolutely delicious - my favourite was the Malbec, but then it usually is.
After Nanni we headed to the winery opposite. It was pretty hard to taste the wine here as we were poured such a small amount - perhaps they sensed that we were freeloaders with no intention of buying a bottle! We wandered around a bit more trying to find the only other winery that was open on Sunday, but had no luck. We decided, instead, to settle for wine flavoured sorbet before heading home for a nap to prepare us for a dinner of steak and more wine!
A day or two later, to have a break from wine tasting, I decided to go on a tour into the Quebrada. These colourful rock formations are relics from when huge parts of South America were covered in water...at least I think that's what the Spanish speaking tour guide said! The land formations truly were other worldy, and my camera doesn't do justice to the colours in the rocks and surrounding mountains.
Our route around the Quebrada suffered a few detours due to the flooding that occured with the February rains, washing the road away.
One of the main reasons I actually came to Cafayate was that the guide book said that it was a great place to enjoy wine and nature - and suggested heading into nature with a bottle of wine. With this in mind, Justine and I headed around all the local shops to pick up some delicious salami, locally made goats cheese, avocados, bread and, of course, a bottle of local wine! We then headed up to the river for our picnic in the sun.
 |
| The most amazing shop in Cafayate! |
 |
| Wine by the 5 litre bottle - they knew I was coming! |
Continuing with the theme, I decided to walk to the nearby waterfall the next day. The guidebook simply states that from the Rio Colorado you need to head upstream for two hours to reach the waterfall. Nowhere did it give any indication of the rock climbing that would be necessary to get me there. Loaded up with a small bottle of wine, a picnic and some water, I found a guide (Franco) at the river and we set off. I really should have suspected what lay ahead when he asked if I liked rock climbing...
The climb was actually great fun, I felt like a child again scrambling over all the rocks, and was amazed at the seemingly vertical cliffs I managed to climb. I almost got stuck in a crevice at one point, but managed to navigate my way out. We reached the third waterfall after about 2 1/2 hours, where we sat and shared my lunch.
 |
| An example of the kind of rock climbing this trek entailed! |
 |
| The fateful fourth waterfall! |
At the beginning of the trek Franco had told me that he was going to show me the fourth waterfall, which most tourists never see. I assumed this was the usual tour guide speak (and he told everyone this) so, after lunch, headed on up to the fourth waterfall. When we got there, he actually explained to me (in Spanish) that this waterfall is very special in his culture, and implied that, as he had shown it to me, he should receive something in return. I don't really need to go into detail for you to understand what he was hinting at, however, when I point blankly said no, I received a lecture that by saying 'no' I'd offended him, the people of the mountains, and his culture! I pretended to understand less than I actually did, and tried to explain that, in my culture, if you don't want to do something, you don't do it, and there is never any obligation. I managed to get my point across, and we headed back down the mountain, but it was a little disconcerting having this debate with my guide at the top of a mountain when I was relying on him to get me down to the bottom safely.
Everything turned out fine in the end, but it was a bit of a reality check about travelling as a lone female. I don't think I'll be heading off on any tours with a guide on my own again...
My body was obviously very unprepared for two hours of rock climbing (plus two hours coming back down) and moving, sitting, standing, etc has been rather painful for the last couple of days... luckily I was recommended somewhere to go for a massage today and, although my muscles still ache, I feel slightly better, and very relaxed.
I'm heading back to Salta in the next couple of days, and then over San Pedro de Atacama in Chile for some star gazing in the desert before I head north to Bolivia....where it's even colder :(
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| The view over Cafayate |
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