Lonely Planet: Salta

Salta - Alemania - Cafayate - Salta

Salta
pop 500,000


Sunshine in Salta. Excelente!

Salta was not exactly easy to get to (see my last post), and it was also rather expensive crossing the Andes twice. However, if you asked me to describe this side trip, I would call it exactly what the doctor ordered. If I were Christopher Walken, I would say, "I gotta fever! And the only prescription is more Salta!"


History
Salta is the home of many different kinds of people, including Argentina's usual band of motley Europeans, Syrian and Lebanese immigrants (so says wikipedia), and several Americans. Interestingly, it's also the home of part of Argentina's tiny indigenous population. I say interestingly because they have this museum that details how tribes used to send their best looking kids to Cusco as part of a diplomatic relationship with the Inca power center. Despite a highly advanced road network, these kids and their entourages would travel to the party directly. That's "directly" as in over mountains and through lakes and jungles and whatnot. After the party, the kids would come home the same way (it often took months), and, after another, smaller party, would be gotten drunk of corn beer and be left to die in a pit underground. Don't believe it? They have the kids on display to prove it! Sadly, no flash photographs were allowed.

Another crucial bit of history is that Josh's grandfather once came here and insisted to his grandchild that he too should come, as the women are apparently supposed to be gorgeous. Reason enough to come? I think so.


Orientation
Salta is a relatively small town with a nice plaza, big hills with cable cars, and colonial churches. It's sunny and warm outside, and even if there are malarial mosquitos outside, they ain't hurtin' nobody.

Information
Don't try to send international packages from Argentina. You have to go into the post office, then out, then through another door, then up some stairs. Then you have to be told by a lady on the stairs that you're in the wrong place, but she doesn' know where the right place is. Then, since you're lost, you walk into a random government office and squawk some broken phrases about postage in Spanish. They look at you blankly for a while, then one of them motions for you to follow him. He brings you into a rickety elevator, then you go down it, and then you go back outside. Then you follow him into another building, past an armed guard, and up another flight of stairs. Finally, you are in front of a window where an old lady informs you that you can't send electronics to Peru. Why? Because you can't bring in air conditioner units that violate greenhouse gas protocols.

Sights
Um, the usual. Pretty churches and a hill that you can take a cable car up to and get coffee at the top. A few nice fountains and a big shopping street. In this respect, the town itself is nothing special, but the heat and the sun and the palm trees add a nice twist to it.


You have your teleferico rides...

...your beautiful colonial churches...



...and you got your gauchos.

Festivals and Events
The Fourth of July should be celebrated with your family around a grill and fireworks. Unfortunately, all we had was our roommate from Milwaukee who doesn't normally celebrate the Fourth. Needless to say, he made no friends and spent most of his time on a laptop. We did find a PhD student from Cornell, and had a decent night out featuring a bowling alley (second time!) and a club that closed at the indecently early hour of 5am.

Sleeping
Las Rejas Hostel was among the best we've stayed at. Hostel details are usually boring, and this is no exception really, but let's just say that mi cabeza was on the north side of comfy for three straight days.

This was the first place, and probably the last, that offered little soaps on our pillow every morning.

Eating
I ate steak almost every day. I wanted to eat it the fourth day too, but some guy forcefully insisted that I get goat. Do me a favor. Imagine what goat tastes like. That's about how it tastes. I also ate ice cream, despite my better judgment, at a place famous for making wine ice cream. I asked the old man who ran the place to let me try some: it tastes like wine cream. I asked him to let me try cream of dulce de leche: he informed me that he would kill me if I didn't like it. Great thing that I liked it!

Back to the beef. Josh and I made a committment to eat beef every day, starting from our first meal following our bus trip. In my heart of hearts, I assumed that this would be a noble but unsustainable task. Fortunately, I have stronger fortitude and arteries than I had previously thought! Our second major meal was at a place where the entrees were designed for two people. We each ordered one, and were only informed about our mistake minutes before they arrived. But this was the fourth of July! and our attitude was basically just "bring it." I'm proud to say that I ate the whole thing, even if I couldn't really eat a dinner later.


The next night, I ate a sausage that changed my life.


Getting Around
Ever since Uruguay and the buggy experience, Josh and I had been wanting to rent a car. After all, Argentina is the kind of country where wide open space is the name of the game, and we wanted to tear it up a little. For a variety of reasons (price, logistics, ect.) we kept putting it off, but the real reason it took us so long is that it was clear that Argentine traffic was a bit intimidating. Salta, however, needed to be driven. As I've mentioned, the city itself was little more than a sleepy colonial town, but the countryside was clearly magnificent, with rolling hills turning into mountains and idyllic farmland. We sucked it up and went to a Hertz, picking up a little manual Chevy.
The Chevy Corsa, the ultimate driving machine for the outdoor enthusiast.


Since Josh didn't drive stick shift, it was up to me to get us out of the city. Argentine driving is rife with hazzards. There seems to be an ongoing battle between pedestrians and vehicles, with each jostling for right of way. We were told that Argentine drivers simply do not care if they hit pedestrians, and while that sounded like an exageration when we first heard it, we began seeing news stories of careless Australians getting creamed by buses while we were in Buenos Aires. Beyond this, there are very few street signs, faded to non-existent stop lines on the street, lanes delineated by grooves and potholes in the road, and stop lights with bulbs that probably have not been changed since before the Falkland War. As a result, drivers make their own rules. While the standard right of way rules are obviously thrown out the window, the real challenge is dealing with an Argentine custom that I call "lane hedging", which essentially means that on a two lane street, cars weave back and forth over where the lane line should be without ever fully surrendering their place in either lane. Of all the challenges associated with Argentine driving, however, the most dangerous is something I like to call "The Random."


The Random is basically anything that comes out of nowhere without any warning whatsoever. Cars should be on roads, and pedestrians will obviously test the limits of how little you want to hit them. The Random, however, defies reason. It can be something simple, like a stop sign after a major curve on an international highway (after which Josh would say something like "Dear President Kirchner: Do not put stop signs on international highways. Signed, Josh"). Kids can run out of alleys on bikes, trucks can billow unreasonable amount of smoke into your eyes and lungs, and parts of the road can be taken over by a stream that has created a groove which can ruin suspension if taken too fast. At one point we were driving along the highway when out of nowhere a man comes running out waving at us frantically to stop. Before I could even imagine what his issue was, three giant bulls came charging out into the street, taking a turn to head straight at us. Fast on their heals were two men on horseback and a dog, none of which were at all mindful of the vehicle in front of them, as they were all about the business of chasing down the massive animals charging down the road. All I could do was turn on the breaks and hope that the dinosaurs charging me down would turn, and thank god they did, as our car would have lost in that battle of steel vs. beast.


Of course, the trip was definitely worth it. We went through the Quebrada de Cafayate, a 100 km stretch of red, yellow, and pink rock formations and picturesque valleys. I can't do justice to the journey through either pictures or words, but our day was characterized by roads that winded throught some of the most beautiful canyonlands I have ever seen. By the end of the day, Josh and I were both in a state of complete shock. This day alone made the entire trip worth it.



Alemania, a tiny town before the Quebrada de Cafayate
Population: Josh

I love canyonlands.

The road to Cafayate.

The ride back home to Salta.

A little bit of godliness.

Josh learned stick shift, but I have a feeling that his blog will do that experience more justice than mine will. Needless to say, we made it out of that lesson alive, and actually he was quite competent for a first-timer.



Josh, looking quite pleased with himself.

If I do say so myself, our trial by fire with Argentine driving was an unparalleled success.