Salta to Bolivia: 23 - 26 October

It has been a busy week since my last blog! I bussed from Cafayate to Salta on a pretty local bus, which seems to be more of a trend as I head north. Not complaining because the buses are still comfortable and a lot cheaper!

I met an American chap, Ken, on the bus while were having a stop at a small cafateria which had 1 peso empanadas and pizza (cheapest yet). He works for Nature Magazine in America and had a lot of good ideas about travelling North West Argentina. Shortly before arriving in Salta the bus broke down, but a mini van quickly arrived for us to transfer over to. We watched the luggage being pulled out of the holds onto the road before being loaded onto the roof. Neither Ken or I saw our bags on the road and were told they were already up on the roof, but we had our doubts. Our suspicions were confirmed when we arrived in Salta without our bags! We jumped back in the mini van with the driver and headed back to the bus to collect our bags, which were in a hold that had not been emptied.

Finally with our bags, Ken and I made our way around a few hostels settling for a nice one near San Martin park. I did a bit of hand washing and headed up the gondola with Ken to get a good view of the city. Salta is surprisingly large, but doesn´t really seem to have a lot to do, so we both checked out tickets for further north. I had planned to head up north before coming back down a bit half way to meet a connection to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile to start the salt flats. I decided to sleep on it because they needed a booking from Salta for buses that only run twice a week. I am increasingly weary or booking anything more than a day in advance given plans tend to change quite a lot. Ken and I did a circuit of the most significant buildings around Plaza 9 de Julio and got some money out at the ATM, which had a line the longest I have seen to get money out. We found a local burger joint for a sit down meal with the locals. Ken managed to almost put a toothpick through his lip as he bit into his burger!! We left and took some night shots of the Plaza.

Upon returning to the hostel, I met two girls from Canada who had come down from Bolivia. After talking to them for a bit and going down stairs to a nice ice cream palour, I decided against going to San Pedro de Atacama (given the bus ticket was 180 pesos) and instead fast track it up north and cross the border at La Quicas.

Ken and I headed off to the bus station the next morning for a bus up north. Ken was making his way up to far north to Humahuaca and make his way back down stopping at several towns. I decided I would go to Humahuaca too, but stopping several times en route as the towns didn´t seem to warrant any more than an hour. Upon board the bus, I met Ruth and Rhake, who I had met previously in Uruguay and more recently in Puerto Natalas. They were evidently still on the gringo trail heading up the border of Bolivia that day. I convinced them that there was plenty to see on the way so they joined me on my flying trip of the north west towards bolivia.

We said goodbye to Ken at Juyjuy, where the tree of us would transfer to a smaller bus to Pumamarca, which is famous for the moutain of seven colours. The buses really are getting cheap now, with the hour and a half journey costing only 6 pesos! I passed time on the bus talking to a local chap. Looking at him I knew he was either gay or a hairdresser (long nails, pony tail with pink clip etc), and it turned out he was indeed a hairdresser. I got some good conversation practice in and learned a few new words.

Arriving in Pumamarca was pretty amazing. It is a very small town but it sits below the mountain which has distinct bands of colours. Before setting off on our walks to various miradors, we figured out the bus time to the next town, Tilcara, which left in 2 hours. We decided to head to Tilcara en route to Humahuaca, to cover 4 towns in one day! The walk around Pumamarca was incredible, although very windy at times. The mountains were simply stunning and not many tourists around. We took all the photos we needed and stocked up on a bit of food for the next bus ride to Tilcara, which was only 2 pesos!

Tilcara is a pretty small sleepy town, which attracts more Argentinan tourists than foreigners. It is a well presented town with nice eating spots and cobbled streets. We only had an hour and a half before the next bus so we ran around eating llama empanadas and heading up the hills behind the town for a better view. Incredible thunder and lightening shook the entire village at times, although we were lucky it did not rain. Walking around the streets of Tilcara reminded me of Nepal, with narrow dirt tracks and small dirt shacks. A nice change from the big cities!

We again hit the minimercardo to get food for the bus ride and also dinner for the night. We decided to head to the HI Hostel upon arriving in Humahuaca, which is where I knew Ken would be. The hostel was ages from the bus stop as we walked through narrow dirt paths in the rural areas, full of stray dogs, donkeys and the odd local. We arrived and prepared dinner, later meeting Ken and a Saffa who was with him. The girls and I decided to head to Iruya the next day, which we had all heard (randomly from the same French couple I met at Puerte de Inca) was amazing and well worth the trip. To keep moving, we decided to get the morning bus out there, approximately three hours, spend a few hours there and then return that afternoon, to then board a bus to the border of Bolivia at La Quica - more than 9 hours on the bus.

The drive up to Iruya was incredible! It was the roughest bus ride I have been on to date, weaving its way through very rural country side, over streams and rivers and along banks with very high drop offs. The windy corners were so sharp that the outside wheel of the bus would barely complete each turn, probably flicking stones over the edge. We climbed up to 4000m before dropping down into the valley. Iruya came into sight, chiefly a large yellow church perched on the side of the hill above the river. Some stupid woman on the bus had a go at me (at least I think she was) for taking lots of photos out of the open window. She was pretty rude, at some stage on the journy climbing onto my seat and leaning out of my window to take photos, even though I had earlier helped her to open hers.

We were lucky enough to arrive on the day the town was celebrating the 250th year of the towns foundation, so there were a few ceremonies and speeches etc. The town comprises several steep streets to explore and cute kids running around. The people up north certainly look a lot more native and Bolivian than anyone we have seen in Argentina. We had lunch in a small hole in the wall place, in part to kill time before the bus which was in a few hours time. We tried llama stew, lamb stew and some more empanadas. Llama was pretty darn good really, and I am sure it won´t be the last time I eat it.

The ride back to Humahuaca was more dramatic than the way in, as the sun was not directly in our faces and the clouds were white and puffy, providing great photo ops. We arrived back in Humahuaca in time to book a bus for half an hours time, leaving us just enough time to run around the town for a few photos and to get some food for the 3 hour bus ride up to La Quica.

Our bus arrived half an hour late and we were told it was full, or at least no seats. We had to go so we boarded the bus and took positions on the floor! Fortunately, we would only be on the floor, or standing, for a hour or so until some people got off. We had been a bit worried about lack of accommodation in La Quica given an annual festival was on for the past 9 days, culminating in this weekend. After arriving at at around 1030, we found a couple of cheap rooms (in separate places due to demand) and settled in. We made a walk that night to the square to see what all the festivities were all about. The night life was pretty interesting, mainly one strip of food stalls and ´discos´ in corrugated iron shacks. We did a couple of laps, stopping for beer and sausages every now and again, and joined the other spectators watching the dancing (or lack of). Lot of young people walking around looking pretty wasted. We got propositioned by one old man who was off his face, asking if we liked to dance etc and if Ruth was my wife. We pretended we were to keep him away from Ruth, but he suggested the four of us have a sort of private dance party or something, as he did some crazy sexual ´car wash´spanking type dance. Rather funny!

The next morning we would return to see the bartering market in full swing before heading to Bolivia. I´m looking forward to getting to a new country!