Salta N Pepa
It should go without saying that my bus journey from Mendoza to Salta was no cakewalk, but instead of reliving the ordeal by writing about it, I will simply say this...I boarded, endured hours upon hours of tedium and arrived unscathed.
To my delight, Salta was akin to a good luck charm on a silver bracelet. The city itself was rather picturesque with its colonial architecture and surrounding green hills. It was big enough to offer a fine selection of boutiques, eclectic cafes and shops full of handmade curiosities, yet small enough that urban pollution (i.e. car exhaust fumes, bleating horns, smelly rubbish bins overflowing into the street, etc...) was insignificant.
My first full day there was spent exploring the sights, albeit on a reduced scale as it just so happened to be a "major" Argentinian holiday- the bicentennial of their flag (excuse me while I try to suppress a chuckle) so most museums were closed as well as all public buildings & offices. I did take a brief walk around the Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes de Salta, which was hosting a largely uninteresting black & white photography expedition at the time of my visit, and then in the afternoon I took a ride on the teleferico (15 pesos one-way) up to the top of San Bernardo Hill which offered lovely panoramic views of the lush countryside. Having taken the easy way up to the top of the hill, I chose to walk, nay, SKIP down and while doing so, I met a young mother on an outing with her 2 kids. We exchanged pleasantries in Spanglish and I truly enjoyed hopskotching down the hillside in tandem with them. When we said our goodbyes at the bottom of the hill, the 2 children waved enthusiastically to me from the back window of their car and I, in return, heartily shouted "Adios!" and continued waving until their car was no longer in sight. All in all, it was a lovely day of semi-languid sightseeing...
The next two days were jam-packed though as I chose to do 2 tours in the Salta area with the La Posada Tour Operator (320 pesos total). The first was an all-day excursion to the small town of Cachi. This tour was incredibly picturesque for it took us first through a beautiful gorge full of cacti and then ascended up a winding mountain road to an incrediblly scenic overlook (3400m) where we even spotted a condor. This condor, remarkably, flew directly over our group for a number of minutes, allowing ALL the opportunity to photograph it at fairly close range- how considerate! Our guide, Jecho, spoke extremely good English, knew how to compose a decent photo, and sexily sported the curliest of locks. I complimented him on his groovy hippie hair (and mad photography skills) and encouraged him to "Let it all hang out!" rather than restrain it with a hair tie. We had lunch at a tasty restaurant in Cachi- I shared a table with a couple of biologists from Victoria, Canada, named Rob and Sarah. But surprisingly, sniff sniff, there were NO DUTCH PEOPLE on the tour so I wonder if I may have inadvertently offended them by suggesting in an earlier blog entry that they were stalking me....please come back my fine Dutch friends!! It just isn't the same without you!
The following day, Feb 29 (Leap Day!!), I went on another La Posada tour, but this time north of Salta to the sleepy town of Humahuaca, which lies in the valley of Quebrada de Humahuaca, an UNESCO World Heritage site since 2003. This narrow valley is reknowned for its vibrantly colored, mineral-rich hills. The weather was once again PERFECT throughout the day, but turned decidedly nasty during the return journey to Salta. We're talking torrential rain, significantly-sized hail, and white-hot lightning striking down uncomfortably nearby. Our guide that day, Edgar, told us a creepy tale about how almost a year ago to the exact day and in the very same bus we were riding in, he'd been with a group returning from Humahuaca when a similar storm hit. At the time, the group had been discussing the disastrous economic policies of a certain former President of the country in the 1990s. Edgar said that no sooner had one of the tourists on the bus stated the name of this politician out loud, a bolt of lightning struck the engine of the bus, which melted its entire electrical system. Thankfully, the driver managed to pull off the road safely and none of the passengers were, ummmm.....ELECTROCUTED....but as a result, Edgar became superstitious about having anyone utter this particular President's name out loud else further mischief be done! But here's the kicker...one of the Spanish-speaking tourists did say the name of this President out loud because they didn't understand the story Edgar was telling us in English, and the moment that name was uttered, all the lights on our bus flickered!! It was incredibly creepy and caused me to immediately reach for my seatbelt and lament the fact that I didn't know how to recite a "Hail Mary." In the end, we did manage to reach Salta without further incident, but so....much...weather....DRAMA....is simply not cool.
This entry would be incomplete if I were to fail to mention meeting and befriending a Romanian gal named Sonja. She was one of my bunkmates at Las Rejas Hostel, and we really hit it off straight away. It also turned out that she was headed to the same place as me next, Puerto Iguazu, so we decided to hook up as traveling partners. Therefore, she will be heavily featured in the next few blog entries.
So there you have it...Salta...without a single mention of salt...or pepper...
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