Argentina Ahoy! A few days in the North West.
So "North West" Argentina might be a bit generous, as I made just two stops here before I headed to Central Argentina. But you know, it's a very big country, so I'm going to have to be picky to make the most of my last 5 weeks of travelling.
Argentina is a place where worlds collide. Specifically, my world where everything when you're backpacking costs less than a tenner and long distance bus journeys are the devil, and the world of Argentina, where everything costs a bomb and long bus journeys are inevitable if you want to go, well, anywhere really.
I planned my trip well and bookended it with the two most expensive countries - Canada and Argentina. I knew Argentina was going to be expensive but it was still a shock.
After a very brief one night stopover in San Pedro de Atacama I jumped on a 12 hour bus to Salta. 12 hours. Ha. Ha. Ha. It started off well when the bus showed up an hour late. It got even better when an hour into the journey it broke down and we spent 2 hours sat at the side of the road. Very luckily 2 of the passengers on board were mechanics and we were able to continue the journey.
Immigration at the Argentine border was quite efficient, the whole bus forming one queue to exit Chile, before joining another to get our entry stamps to Argentina. And then a very cursory scan of the bags before we all piled back on the bus. All except the lady who happened to be travelling with a child for which she didn't have the correct documentation. 3 hours later, after calls to various police stations and Interpol, we were finally on our way again. At this point we were 6 hours behind schedule, so the bus sped on towards Salta with only very brief stops to drop passengers at Purmamarca and Jujuy.
The road from the border down to Salta province runs through large open expanses of salt flat with distant views of the Alps and then switches back and forth as it comes to curl round them closely. Whilst quite beautiful at times it also feels a bit lonely and bleak, and after a couple of hours of driving down this road and seeing pretty much no signs of life, it starts to feel somewhat never-ending. But at 7pm the sun began to set, after which all I had to think about was how hungry I was, and how glad that I had managed to grab an empanada before the bus left. It was the only thing I would eat that day except for the measly biscuits that seemed to be provided at 12 hour intervals.
The bus finally rolled into to Salta at 11pm. My co-passenger was a nice Korean lady who couldn't speak any Spanish and just a few words of English, so after hearing a one-sided exchange between her and some Argentinian passengers who were trying to help her with directions to her hostel, we established that she and her friends were staying in the same hostel as me. I offered to show them the way as I was walking there... this ensued a slightly awkward 20 minute walk of me trying to make conversation, but ultimately ending in the three of them trailing behind, probably wondering where in the world I was taking them. It felt awkward at the time but after this whenever they saw me in the hostel they seemed quite happy to see me and very smiley, so that was nice!
After this somewhat epic and mainly long and boring bus journey the next day I had a lie in and skipped breakfast before heading out on, yep, you've guessed it, a walking tour. It had been a whole week!
It actually felt quite weird being in Salta. It has some lovely colonial architecture but also feels extremely modern and the streets around the centre reminded me of high streets in the UK. And there were just so many people!
I met nice girl in my dorm room and we planned to take the cable car up to the Mirador but by the time we got there it at 7:30pm it was already closed. It worked out better though, as instead we took a taxi up to the top and after taking lots of pictures as the sun set, walked back down.
My very brief stay in Salta came to an end the next day but not before I went to the Archaeological Museum. The museum is particularly special because it is home to three Incan children that were found after being sacrificed. Their remains were in near-perfect mummified condition after being covered in snow and ice for 500 years. Much like Juanita, the mummified girl I saw in Arequipa some years ago.
But this museum is much newer and as a result, it seems that the preservation techniques are more advanced than those we saw in Peru. Only one child is ever on display (and I cringe typing that) and unlike the case in which Juanita was displayed, the one here is very clear, with the option to raise the lighting when viewing.
It makes me feel weird. It's a fascinating insight into the culture of the Incas. But these are people. And they're on display, very tastefully for sure, but for people to come and gape at. It feels almost inhumane and lacking in dignity and I wonder if in 500 years time I would want someone to dig me up and put me on display.
After my visit to the museum I trundled off to the bus station, where I had just missed a bus to Cafayate, the next one being 3 and a half hours later. Doh!
I didn't mind and sat at a cafe reading my book, and chatting to anyone who might join me at the table. The worst thing about taking the later bus is that the landscapes between Salta and Cafayate are magnificent and whilst I did still get to see a lot of it, the sun set as we drove on.
No fear though, as when I arrived to my hostel in Cafayate, the owner Luis gave me a rundown of all the main touristic activities and one was a tour of all landmarks along the road we had just come down. Yay!
Cafayate is the complete opposite of Salta. It was back to dusty streets and a very small town situated around a main plaza, the whole setting with a beautiful backdrop of the surrounding mountains. My hostel had a nice hippy vibe with hammocks in the large garden and a large outdoor table for breakfast, which was covered with a natural shade of grapevines.
I bummed around in the morning (seems to be a general theme at the moment) before heading off on the tour in the afternoon. I'm so glad I did - the views here really are amazing.
I decided to stay an extra night in Cafayate as I also wanted to visit a wine bodega, or vineyard, as we say en Inglés. So after a bit of planning and more bumming around, and queueing half an hour to take money out, I jumped in a taxi to la Bodega Domingo Molina.
This is what I'm talking about!!! Oh good wine, how I have missed thee!
Domingo Molina is about 6km up a dirt track, so I spent much of the journey hoping my taxi driver would be happy to come back for me. She was, and I had an hour to explore!
I was welcomed by a nice lady who said that only the tasting was available, but that if anyone else showed up then I could have the tour. Is there a discount on the tasting then, I asked? No she said, and after I clarified that it was because I was on my own that I couldn't have the tour, either she took pity on me or I grew on her as we talked, because before I sat down for the tasting she said she would still give me the tour!
I can't tell you how nice it was to sit outside, and have this nice lady bring me different and good wines to try alongside a plate of cheese and crackers, in this beautiful setting of rolling fields of vines with the mountains in the background. Seriously this is one of my favourite pastimes and yes, it does qualify as a pastime!
As promised, afterwards the lady still took me round the farm, showing me the end to end process from the delivery and sorting of the grapes through to the tasting room they have onsite, for the master winemaker to regularly taste the wines before bottling. I think I made it worth her while when I bought two bottles at the end.
Luis had helped me hatch a plan to see another place on my way day to Mendoza. So the next day after more bumming around, I jumped on a 2pm bus to Amaicha del Valle. I had been tempted to hit the more famous Tafi del Valle but Luis had convinced me that Amaicha was smaller, more personable and a place where indigenous people still live, unlike Tafi, a playground for the rich people of the region.
Ok, you convinced me Luis! I arrived at Amaicha at about 3:30pm and made my way over to the Pachamama Museum, where for the sum of 100 pesos I was able to learn all about the creation of the universe and the importance for indigenous people of Pachamama in the creation of the world. Many South American people venerate a Christian god alongside Pachamama. I'm glad that the colonialists didn't completely eradicate local beliefs and customs.
I guess the awkward thing about being here at this time of year is that a lot of things are closed. Like all the restaurants in Amaicha. In fact pretty much everything in Amaicha. Luckily I had stocked up on sandwiches in Cafayate and the grubby bar opposite the bus stop was happy to sell me a Fanta, which came with a free dog that sat in front of me staring as I ate.
Eventually the bus arrived and I left happy having made something of the day but also thinking that at this time of year, Tafi might have had more to offer.
3 and a half hours later we arrived in Tucuman and one of those "fun travelling stories" began. Luis had kindly and confidently given me the bus hours from Tucuman to Mendoza- 1am and 2am. It's a 16 hour journey. Except when I arrived at Tucuman at 11pm, both buses were sold out, the next bus being at 6am. I tried a few other companies but it was a no go. The best news came when the man at the Andesmar booth told me that there were no cama seats left, and for semi-cama it was still AP1900. That's £80. £80!!!!!! With my phone dead I had no idea where to start looking for a hostel for a few hours, so after coughing up (my credit card) I prepared myself for 7 hours of staring into space. No book. No phone. Nowhere to charge the phone. FUN.
Amazingly I did not fall asleep. And I hadn't had a coffee! 6am rolled round eventually, as did the bus and I can't tell you how "happy" I was to see that it was absolutely filthy, the floor covered in remnants of the precious passengers' bus snacks. £80, £80 people!! I quickly got over it thanks to the prospect of sleep, rolled my seat back as far as it would go and settled in for a sleepy 16 hour ride down to Mendoza.
Argentina is a place where worlds collide. Specifically, my world where everything when you're backpacking costs less than a tenner and long distance bus journeys are the devil, and the world of Argentina, where everything costs a bomb and long bus journeys are inevitable if you want to go, well, anywhere really.
I planned my trip well and bookended it with the two most expensive countries - Canada and Argentina. I knew Argentina was going to be expensive but it was still a shock.
After a very brief one night stopover in San Pedro de Atacama I jumped on a 12 hour bus to Salta. 12 hours. Ha. Ha. Ha. It started off well when the bus showed up an hour late. It got even better when an hour into the journey it broke down and we spent 2 hours sat at the side of the road. Very luckily 2 of the passengers on board were mechanics and we were able to continue the journey.
Immigration at the Argentine border was quite efficient, the whole bus forming one queue to exit Chile, before joining another to get our entry stamps to Argentina. And then a very cursory scan of the bags before we all piled back on the bus. All except the lady who happened to be travelling with a child for which she didn't have the correct documentation. 3 hours later, after calls to various police stations and Interpol, we were finally on our way again. At this point we were 6 hours behind schedule, so the bus sped on towards Salta with only very brief stops to drop passengers at Purmamarca and Jujuy.
The road from the border down to Salta province runs through large open expanses of salt flat with distant views of the Alps and then switches back and forth as it comes to curl round them closely. Whilst quite beautiful at times it also feels a bit lonely and bleak, and after a couple of hours of driving down this road and seeing pretty much no signs of life, it starts to feel somewhat never-ending. But at 7pm the sun began to set, after which all I had to think about was how hungry I was, and how glad that I had managed to grab an empanada before the bus left. It was the only thing I would eat that day except for the measly biscuits that seemed to be provided at 12 hour intervals.
The bus finally rolled into to Salta at 11pm. My co-passenger was a nice Korean lady who couldn't speak any Spanish and just a few words of English, so after hearing a one-sided exchange between her and some Argentinian passengers who were trying to help her with directions to her hostel, we established that she and her friends were staying in the same hostel as me. I offered to show them the way as I was walking there... this ensued a slightly awkward 20 minute walk of me trying to make conversation, but ultimately ending in the three of them trailing behind, probably wondering where in the world I was taking them. It felt awkward at the time but after this whenever they saw me in the hostel they seemed quite happy to see me and very smiley, so that was nice!
After this somewhat epic and mainly long and boring bus journey the next day I had a lie in and skipped breakfast before heading out on, yep, you've guessed it, a walking tour. It had been a whole week!
It actually felt quite weird being in Salta. It has some lovely colonial architecture but also feels extremely modern and the streets around the centre reminded me of high streets in the UK. And there were just so many people!
I met nice girl in my dorm room and we planned to take the cable car up to the Mirador but by the time we got there it at 7:30pm it was already closed. It worked out better though, as instead we took a taxi up to the top and after taking lots of pictures as the sun set, walked back down.
My very brief stay in Salta came to an end the next day but not before I went to the Archaeological Museum. The museum is particularly special because it is home to three Incan children that were found after being sacrificed. Their remains were in near-perfect mummified condition after being covered in snow and ice for 500 years. Much like Juanita, the mummified girl I saw in Arequipa some years ago.
But this museum is much newer and as a result, it seems that the preservation techniques are more advanced than those we saw in Peru. Only one child is ever on display (and I cringe typing that) and unlike the case in which Juanita was displayed, the one here is very clear, with the option to raise the lighting when viewing.
It makes me feel weird. It's a fascinating insight into the culture of the Incas. But these are people. And they're on display, very tastefully for sure, but for people to come and gape at. It feels almost inhumane and lacking in dignity and I wonder if in 500 years time I would want someone to dig me up and put me on display.
After my visit to the museum I trundled off to the bus station, where I had just missed a bus to Cafayate, the next one being 3 and a half hours later. Doh!
I didn't mind and sat at a cafe reading my book, and chatting to anyone who might join me at the table. The worst thing about taking the later bus is that the landscapes between Salta and Cafayate are magnificent and whilst I did still get to see a lot of it, the sun set as we drove on.
No fear though, as when I arrived to my hostel in Cafayate, the owner Luis gave me a rundown of all the main touristic activities and one was a tour of all landmarks along the road we had just come down. Yay!
Cafayate is the complete opposite of Salta. It was back to dusty streets and a very small town situated around a main plaza, the whole setting with a beautiful backdrop of the surrounding mountains. My hostel had a nice hippy vibe with hammocks in the large garden and a large outdoor table for breakfast, which was covered with a natural shade of grapevines.
I bummed around in the morning (seems to be a general theme at the moment) before heading off on the tour in the afternoon. I'm so glad I did - the views here really are amazing.
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| El anfiteatro |
I decided to stay an extra night in Cafayate as I also wanted to visit a wine bodega, or vineyard, as we say en Inglés. So after a bit of planning and more bumming around, and queueing half an hour to take money out, I jumped in a taxi to la Bodega Domingo Molina.
This is what I'm talking about!!! Oh good wine, how I have missed thee!
Domingo Molina is about 6km up a dirt track, so I spent much of the journey hoping my taxi driver would be happy to come back for me. She was, and I had an hour to explore!
I was welcomed by a nice lady who said that only the tasting was available, but that if anyone else showed up then I could have the tour. Is there a discount on the tasting then, I asked? No she said, and after I clarified that it was because I was on my own that I couldn't have the tour, either she took pity on me or I grew on her as we talked, because before I sat down for the tasting she said she would still give me the tour!
I can't tell you how nice it was to sit outside, and have this nice lady bring me different and good wines to try alongside a plate of cheese and crackers, in this beautiful setting of rolling fields of vines with the mountains in the background. Seriously this is one of my favourite pastimes and yes, it does qualify as a pastime!
As promised, afterwards the lady still took me round the farm, showing me the end to end process from the delivery and sorting of the grapes through to the tasting room they have onsite, for the master winemaker to regularly taste the wines before bottling. I think I made it worth her while when I bought two bottles at the end.
Luis had helped me hatch a plan to see another place on my way day to Mendoza. So the next day after more bumming around, I jumped on a 2pm bus to Amaicha del Valle. I had been tempted to hit the more famous Tafi del Valle but Luis had convinced me that Amaicha was smaller, more personable and a place where indigenous people still live, unlike Tafi, a playground for the rich people of the region.
Ok, you convinced me Luis! I arrived at Amaicha at about 3:30pm and made my way over to the Pachamama Museum, where for the sum of 100 pesos I was able to learn all about the creation of the universe and the importance for indigenous people of Pachamama in the creation of the world. Many South American people venerate a Christian god alongside Pachamama. I'm glad that the colonialists didn't completely eradicate local beliefs and customs.
I guess the awkward thing about being here at this time of year is that a lot of things are closed. Like all the restaurants in Amaicha. In fact pretty much everything in Amaicha. Luckily I had stocked up on sandwiches in Cafayate and the grubby bar opposite the bus stop was happy to sell me a Fanta, which came with a free dog that sat in front of me staring as I ate.
Eventually the bus arrived and I left happy having made something of the day but also thinking that at this time of year, Tafi might have had more to offer.
3 and a half hours later we arrived in Tucuman and one of those "fun travelling stories" began. Luis had kindly and confidently given me the bus hours from Tucuman to Mendoza- 1am and 2am. It's a 16 hour journey. Except when I arrived at Tucuman at 11pm, both buses were sold out, the next bus being at 6am. I tried a few other companies but it was a no go. The best news came when the man at the Andesmar booth told me that there were no cama seats left, and for semi-cama it was still AP1900. That's £80. £80!!!!!! With my phone dead I had no idea where to start looking for a hostel for a few hours, so after coughing up (my credit card) I prepared myself for 7 hours of staring into space. No book. No phone. Nowhere to charge the phone. FUN.
Amazingly I did not fall asleep. And I hadn't had a coffee! 6am rolled round eventually, as did the bus and I can't tell you how "happy" I was to see that it was absolutely filthy, the floor covered in remnants of the precious passengers' bus snacks. £80, £80 people!! I quickly got over it thanks to the prospect of sleep, rolled my seat back as far as it would go and settled in for a sleepy 16 hour ride down to Mendoza.
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