Greetings once again
We come to you from Salta - a city of 400,000 in North West Argentina only 7 hours by bus from Bolivia - it may as well be a million miles for the differences we are experiencing (they even have toilets where you can flush your used toilet paper instead of having to place it in a bin by the loo). People have cars and leisure time and stuff - all very foreign to us. They also have the best steaks in the world (the story about cutting fillet steak with a spoon is not apocryphal - we saw a waiter do it yesterday night). It is easy to see why people love travelling here - it is easier and less challenging than Peru and Bolivia and everyone seems to be a lot happier - so much for saying happiness comes from within - it seems to come at least partly from within a wallet or purse.
Having said all that we are both sad to have left Bolivia - it may be just gunning for the underdog but we both really enjoyed our time there.
The 4 days on the salt flats involved a lot of time in a 4WD looking at some of the most bizarre landscapes we have ever seen (yes, I know the last photos we uploaded were a very long time ago - patience please folks, patience).
The trip involved 4 days in a 4WD with 4 other tourists and a driver\guide called Robert who I (Dave) got on with using a mixture of Spanglish and hand\arm actions - it must have worked because he let me drive the truck for a bit on the second day - I still remember Ness´ face when I got behind the wheel - those of you who know my prowess on the gravel roads of NZ will have some sympathy with her.
We then headed off on the main road (for that, read river bed) from Uyuni to Tupiza - the 200km on this main road took 8 hours (I know to those who know the M40 on a friday night that this seems like a good trip but it wasnt congestion, it was the fact that the road was a river bed).
Tupiza will stay in my memory for a very long time for it was the place where I lost my horse riding virginity. Within seconds of being on my trusty steed Alasom (which I think is Spanish or Quechua for ¨fat lazy bastard¨) I had learnt from our guide Gustavo the phrase ¨dolores in mi huevos¨ which translated means ¨my testicles are killing me¨. Anyway, the guide seemed to think it was funny to come up behind my trusty steed and whack it on its arse with a big stick thus causing it to break into a sudden canter, thus causing me to hang on for dear life and causing more dolores in mi huevos. Ness reliably informed me that all I had to do was go up and down in time with the horse - this seemed easier said than done.
4 days after the event and we are both still walking funny.
Walking funny as well as talking funny - not deterred by the ask for a corona, get a beef stroganoff incident, ness was attempting to ask our guide if his girlfriends enjoyed horse riding (it seems de rigeur in BOlivia for all men to have at least 4 or 5 girlfriends) - gustavo seemed to understand this as do the horses have girlfriends and proceeded to luanch into a detailed explanation of gelding anatomy, culminating in the memorable phrase ¨no huevos, no huevos¨.
Our second wedding anniversary was spent travelling by bus for 12 hours - who said romance was dead? departing a 4 in the morning from a hostel that thought it would be funny to lock all the outside doors at night and give us no inclination of how to get out. Picture if you will ness knocking on random doors at 3.30am trying to find someone with a key whilst I was attempting to maneouvre two step ladders into a position where backpacks and us could be transported over a 10 feet high wall. Thankfully the ness approach worked and we safely made it to Salta.
We are now just off to meet a bloke we met on the plane from London to Buenos Aires who lives and works in Salta (silly buggar gave us his card and said get in touch).
Adios amigos
