Travel diaries

Photos: Aurora, Volcanos and More!

escape_artist — Fri, 2 Apr 2010 03:11:00 GMT

Miscellaneous photos from Skagastrond & Reykjavik

Photos: Snaefellsnes

escape_artist — Fri, 2 Apr 2010 02:44:00 GMT

Encounters at the End of the World

escape_artist — Fri, 2 Apr 2010 02:36:00 GMT

I’m too lazy to sit down and write any proper stories to accompany the pictures that I’m posting, so here are just some notes and highlights from the past few weeks:

Snaefellsnes:

I took a trip to the Snaefellsnes peninsula with some of the other girls at the residency. It’s this little finger sticking off of the west coast of Iceland. ‘Twas Jules Vernes’ inspiration for Journey to the Center of the Earth and I can see why. It’s got an otherworldly kinda feel.

Unfortunately, the road to the glacier itself was closed, but we were able to see the installation by the artist Roni Horn, explore the fjord around Grundarfjordur, climb up to an old volcanic crater that is now filled with moss, hike through a lava field to a black sand beach with huge lava rocks and visit the cliffs where a flock of seagulls nest. We stayed in a cute little cabin that was sandwiched between a conical mountain and a massive lake. It even had a hot tub!

Meanwhile, back in Skagastrond:

After being convinced it would never happen, I’ve now seen the aurora borealis four times. It a tough phenomena to pin down- it fades in and out of visibility, sometimes taking an hour to come back after fading from view, only to disappear again. It hasn’t been particularly strong any of the times I’ve seen it, but was still an amazing experience. Word on the street is that after April 6, there is going to be a hole in the sun's upper atmosphere that should cause really strong auroras. Keeping my eye on the sky...

Another exciting thing is that I won the most recent quiz night at the country western bar! It was a crushing defeat, getting 24 out of 30 questions correct (after last time’s pitiful 12 out of 30). Victory was mine and it was sweet!

Reykjavik:

My Iceland buddy Jon is leaving tomorrow, so I made a visit down to Reykjavik this past weekend. I was excited to eat some good food (cod chins!) and go out, but the highlight was renting a 4x4 and driving out to see the volcano that erupted last week.

It was a couple of hours drive outside of the city past dramatic lava cliffs and freezing waterfalls. You can’t get too close to the volcano without paying like $1,000 for a helicopter or snowmobile ride, but from a few miles away you could still see red plumes of smoke and glowing lava spilling down the mountain. We had to off road (yeah!) right through a couple of rivers to get closer. It was a little scary, but just added to the adventure. We also saw the moon rise over the volcano (perfectly aligned with the erupting lava) and later as we were driving back to Reykjavik, we could see the aurora.

Now I’m back in Skagastrond in the midst of a two day snowstorm. I’m listening to Billy Childish and procrastinating doing any work. I’m getting new housemates today and going to play bingo at the community center on Sunday. Really, I’m so spoiled.

Photos: Country mouse's new adventures

escape_artist — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 09:29:00 GMT

Having a normal life

escape_artist — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 09:12:00 GMT

March 14, 2010
Twin Peaks, Iceland

It's sort of nice to just live my life here. No packing up my home every morning and rushing for a bus, being with people for longer than a day & really getting to be friends with them, getting to know the town and the locals, sleeping in, having a home...

It's been an action packed week and a half here in Skagastrond. A couple of Fridays ago a strange thing happened- quiz night at the country western bar. When I arrived, I was put on a team with Siggi, a gentleman who works for the town. I’m not very knowledgable about Icelandic history or football so I was basically dead weight. In the end, we only got 12 out of 20 questions right and came in last. But it was so fun!

After pencils down, the townsfolk got friendly. I presume the normal people left directly after the quiz because pretty much everyone I spoke with was extremely… interesting. Subjects of conversation included the automatic popcorn button on a microwave, scrapbooking, trolls (they believe in them here, which I think is cool) and autism.

A few days ago, I visited two very awesome ladies- the village fortune tellers. They live in the oldest house in town, from the 1900’s, and the interior has been restored to fit the period. I love early 1900’s design AND fortune telling, so I was in hog heaven. I sat down at this very fortune teller-y table and got my cards and my palm read. It was amazing! One thing that she got from my palm was that I’d make a good teacher.

Fate had a chance to prove itself the next day when I taught a three hour photography class at the community college. I gave a lecture about basic compositional and creative teachniques and then led an activity. Half of the students were really into it, half were really bored. Props to all the teachers in my life- it is hard!

After those three grueling hours of work, my housemate and I went to the swimming pool. The water is heated geothermically and they don’t put any chlorine or chemicals in it. In addition to the regular pool, there was a sauna (the cool kind where you put the water over the hot stones) and hot tubs of varying levels of hotness. I had a little wardrobe malfunction when I was swimming and the top part of my bathing suit floated away. Luckily there were only two little girls in the pool and they got a chuckle out of it.

This weekend I got a visit from Jon, a friend who I hung with in Reykjavik. It was a good opportunity for me to explore Skagastrond a little more- climb on the lava cliffs overlooking the water, walk around the black sand beaches and do a little hiking outside of town.

This evening my housemates and I hosted an all girls potluck party with some of the other artists. We had to make a silly hat for the event and then exchange and wear somebody else’s at the party (so girlish, I know- not my idea). I whipped up a very stylish turban made from a ripped up t-shirt that I sometimes use as a painting rag and I had to wear a little paper sailor hat. We looked like a bunch of special needs people standing around in these ridiculous hats. See pics for evidence...

Tomorrow I’m going on a three day trip to the Snaefellsnes peninsula in western Iceland with a few of the other girls. It’s got a glacier that, according to local legend, doubles as an alien landing pad, lava fields, beaches with spherical rocks, an installation by the artist Roni Horn, and a place called the holy mountain that I’m so curious about.

Stay tuned for details!

Photos: Skagaströnd

escape_artist — Fri, 5 Mar 2010 09:06:00 GMT

On the road again...

escape_artist — Fri, 5 Mar 2010 08:59:00 GMT

...just can’t wait to get on the road again

I’m off to Skagaströnd in the northwest on my third day in Iceland. Even though it’s pretty much clear across the country from Reykjavík, the bus ride is only four and a half hours (including 45 minutes of pit stops). The Icelandic landscape is a blinding vision in white- snowy flat fields and mountains as far as the eye can see.

I have to get off the regular bus in Blönduós where a guy in a car drives me the remaining half hour to Skagaströnd, a small fishing town of 500-ish people. He drops me off right at my house in all its mustard and green corrugated metal glory. I’m feeling all sorts of antsy to see the house, get set up in my studio, start working and feel settled. After being homeless for three months, I’m psyched to be able to sit in a warm bed with a book or my laptop. Sitting around and doing nothing feels like the ultimate luxury. So does having internet access at home. And grocery shopping.

A few words here about my accommodations- they are awesome! I’m living in a two storey house with two other women and have the best room. I was expecting a tiny shoebox with a single bed and, maybe if I was lucky, a nighttable. What I’ve got is a big double bed, a couch, a coffee table, a desk and a big picture window right in front of my bed overlooking the fields, mountains and harbor. It’s sweet justice after all that sleeping on the floor in loud, dirty dorms or a tent.

My studio space is equally as awesome. Most of the residents (and there are ten of us in total) share an open studio space in an old fishing plant with our areas divided by shelving units. I got the back corner space, meaning I have two walls for hanging and projecting images, more space and nobody looking over my shoulder. I really like the studio, it’s got a cool metal and concrete industrial vibe.

The other residents are making some interesting work. I like being around other artists where everyone is passionate about what they’re doing and where we can talk about our work in one breath and line dancing in the next.

Which brings me to some Skagaströnd trivia. It is the country music capital of Iceland! There is a country-western radio station (I really want to get a radio show here- Iceland needs to get some Urbanization!) and a country bar, Kantrybær, the only bar in town and also where the school children eat their lunches. We can eat there too and my housemate and I want to go if there is ever a meatless meal. When else will I eat school lunch with a bunch of Icelandic children in a country western bar?!

Skagaströnd’s got a lot going on despite its small size- everything from yoga to line dancing classes to knitting nights. This morning there was an open house at the town school. The children were showing off their arts and crafts projects to the townsfolk. I went and immediately made a little friend, Hallbjörn, an adorable 8 year old girl who spoke near perfect English and proudly led me around the school to show me all of her projects. And then tomorrow is quiz night at Kantrybær.

This afternoon, a TV crew from one of the 3 stations in Iceland came to the studio. They interviewed a few of the residents, including me. I don’t know if they’ll use me, I felt really boring and awkward when I was talking. I’ll let you know if I make it onto Icelandic TV or if I end up on the cutting room floor.

Not much else to say, I’m just feeling so super happy and inspired and alive right now. When I woke up this morning, I sat up in bed and just stared out my picture window at the Icelandic ponies roaming around and the snow covered field shining in the sun like a pearl.

Photos: Reykjavík

escape_artist — Fri, 5 Mar 2010 08:04:00 GMT

Northern exposure

escape_artist — Fri, 5 Mar 2010 08:01:00 GMT

In some ways Iceland is the exact opposite of Argentina and in others, it’s its alter ego. Patagonia has Tierra del Fuego, the land of fire, and this is the land of ice. Argentina’s got the almost southernmost city in the world and Iceland’s got the almost northernmost (Reykjavík is the northernmost capital). There is a sameness to the topography and mood as well. Glaciers, miles of wide open, windswept no man’s land, desolation, feeling like the last person on earth and in some magical otherworld.

My first stop in Iceland is Reykjavík. Despite its big reputation, it’s quite wee and strikes me as more of a small city or large town rather than a metropolitan capital (and that’s not a bad thing!) There’s some suburban sprawl, but the city itself is no bigger than, like, Portland, Maine. There are a couple of ugly highrise buildings down by the harbor, but for the most part, it’s a low rise kinda place, which suits me just fine. There’s a strong art and music community, tons of great restaurants and some interesting architecture- enough to keep me occupied for my two day visit.

My first stop is bed, where my 45 minute power nap turns into a two and a half hour affair. Next stop is the Hafnarhúsid (that last “d” should be the Icelandic d with the cross through the top, but my computer can’t handle that), part of the Reykjavík Art Museum, to check out some local art in a très Scandanavian architectural setting. I spend the rest of the day buying art supplies for the residency, walking around town and hanging out at a very cool lounge with the very cool Jon, a friend of my friend in NY.

I’ve got big plans for my second and last day in Reykjavík , but they are thwarted at every turn. There’s a free breakfast at my guest house, but I miss it by two hours when I accidentally sleep in until 11:30 (can’t blame me, that’s only 6:30 US time). My plan for the day is to check out some more Icelandic art at the National Gallery and some of the smaller galleries in town. The National Gallery is between exhibits, as is another gallery, a couple of the other galleries aren’t open on Tuesdays and another one has closed altogether. Life is hard.

I do stop in at 12 Tónar, Iceland’s coolest music store. I’m psyched to discover some bizarre Icelandic music which ain’t too hard. I pick up a compilation CD with Icelandic bands covering American light sounds of the 70’s (my favorite!)- IN ICELANDIC!!! There’s a cover of Mandy by Barry Manilow and Yester-me, Yester-you, Yesterday by Stevie Wonder, to name just a couple. I also get a disc by Sigridar Neilsdóttur. I imagine her as a cute Icelandic girl making music on a Casio in her bedroom that has a pink rug and floral bedspread. It reminds me a little of the musical stylings of Rosateresa, my favorite NYC subway busker.

I also make a visit to the Hallgrímskirkja, Iceland’s tallest building at a whopping 8 stories (probably a little higher because you climb a staircase at the top, but the lift only goes up to 8). The church has got a mother pipe organ and the tower offers a nice panorama of the city, including the surrounding mountains and water and one of my favorite buildings in town, Perlan. I love Perlam because it looks like something out of the 60’s Tarkovsky flick Solaris, futuristic but in a kinda dated way.

Later on, Jon and I go to an amazing fish restaurant. The menu is organized according to country of culinary influence and then taste, so the dishes have titles like “Iceland- Sour Milk” and “Brazil- Lemon fruit”. The fish is so fresh and juicy and the flavas are really inventive. We also hang out at Kaffibarin, another hip Icelandic night spot.

I head back to my guest house in the snow and pack up for the journey to Skagaströnd the next morning at 8:30am- that’s 3:30am US time. Let the jet lag begin!

Photos: Buenos Aires

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 06:48:00 GMT

Don't cry for me, Argentina

Last weekend in Argentina

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 06:46:00 GMT

I have a couple days in Buenos Aires before I go back to the States. It rains pretty much the whole time that I’m there, so badly one evening that the streets are all flooded. It has me in a bad mood, but I try to stay positive. I’m excited to be in a place with good food, to be staying in a hotel rather than a dorm room or a tent and not to have to wear gross hiking clothes.

I spend one morning in the city center visiting the historic buildings that I didn’t see my first time in BA. I also check out the Calatrava bridge, right across from which there is a Hooters, which I do not check out. Next I go to the northern neightborhood of Palermo to see the childhood home of the writer Jorge Luis Borges. It’s a small, unspectacular brick building, but it’s got an interesting entrance done in a sort of Byzantine style. I really want to go inside, but as far as I can tell, it’s somebody’s home. How cool would it be to live in Borges’ childhood house? I feel like there’s some crazy closet inside that leads to another dimension.

My next literary port of call is the Plaza Julio Cortazar, also in Palermo. There’s a street fair going on there, but otherwise there’s nothing special or related to Cortazar. I’m there more for the feeling of the neighborhood because it’s where part of Cortazar’s amazing book Hopscotch takes place. I like walking around the street fair, the shops and cafes and I realize that, despite my expectations, I’ve missed city life. I buy way too many clothes that afternoon, also something I’ve missed after three months of wearing a pair of those weird pants that zip away into shorts almost every day.

That night I have dinner with Nick and Joanna, who were my hosts when I first came to South America three months ago. We go to an excellent French/ Asian fusion restaurant in Palermo where I get a curry that actually has some spice to it. It’s nice to talk and be around people again after two and a half weeks of being by myself. I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone and that I’m about to go home.

The next day is Sunday and my last day in South America. I’ve been looking forward to this day for weeks because of the Sunday antiques market in the San Telmo neighborhood. San Telmo is so beautiful. It’s full of these ornate old buildings that are in varying states of decrepitude. If I were to live in Buenos Aires, I would want to live here in a crumbling old mansion.

It’s a rainy morning (again) and since my hotel is right in San Telmo, I’m able to get an early start before most of the tourists hit the streets. I’m on a serious mission for cool old stuff to add to my collection of things from the 20’s and 30’s. I come away with a pendant from the Buenos Aires jockey club from 1915, two old glass pharmacy bottles with cool labels in Spanish (one even still has the original powder inside), a patchwork beret from the 30’s, a white sequined cape from the 20’s and, also from the 20’s, a blue vest with stars embroidered in white and red beads and gold metallic thread. Yay!

I decide to take a break from consumerism and visit El Zanjon. From the outside, it looks like a normal building, but it’s got an underground passage that takes you down to the city’s original houses and sewer system. It’s just the kind of hidden world that I imagined existing in Borges’ house.

Nothing very exciting happened that evening. I just walked and walked and walked around San Telmo, not wanting the day to end. I got melodramatic and kept thinking, ‘This is the last _____.” But the day did end and the next morning was a rush of croissants, coffee, luggage, taxis and waiting around until I finally boarded my plane. I was going home.

Photos: Colonia del Sacramento

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 06:29:00 GMT

Photos: La Plata

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 06:14:00 GMT

Museo de Ciencias Naturales

Day tripping

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 06:12:00 GMT

I arrive in Buenos Aires via the overnight bus at 9:30am, ditch my backpack in a locker and jump on a 10am bus to La Plata, an hour and a half southeast. I’m going there to visit the Museo de Ciencias Naturales (I think you can figure out the translation for yourself). I have a thing for old fashioned museums- or actually any musty smelling, institutional place with old wooden cabinets and taxidermied animals- and large sections of this museum are supposed to be original from 1888.

When I get there, I’m greeting by a pair of stone saber toothed tigers on the museum steps, a cute alternative to the classic lion motif. I love the way the foyer is decorated and start taking pictures and mental notes, in case I ever become rich and have a house with a rotunda entrance. There are large murals with painted animal scenes and bronze animal heads on wooden plinths all around. It has kind of a creepy, ritualistic feel to it, but that only adds to the allure for me.

The exhibits near the entrance have been remodeled and have a boring, clinical vibe. As I move through the museum though, it’s like moving back through time. The wooden cabinets and the old tile flooring start to appear, then the pinned and mounted insects. I finally get to the room with the stuffed animals and am so excited that I want to scream. The walls are lined, floor to ceiling, with wooden cabinets that are filled with taxidermy, as are the wooden display cases on the floor. They’ve got an amazing collection of birds and animals- some of the things there I never even knew existed! My favorite is probably the cat cabinet and I take a picture to show my cat when I get back home.

I go back to Buenos Aires for the night and eat an amazing southeast Asian dinner. The food in Argentina is no good and I’ve been dying to get to BA so I could eat something other than white bread and cheese.

The next day, I get on a boat to Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. It’s a cute, but kind of boring, seaside town with a historic district. It’s pretty and nice to walk around the cobblestone streets and sit by the water, but it’s very touristy and seems to be a destination for mainly couples and mature travelers. An afternoon would have been sufficient, but I had to make my reservations in advance and so I’ve got a day and a half.

My big excitement in Colonia is that I’m staying at a bed and breakfast and have my own private room and bathroom- no more hostel dormatories or sleeping in my tent. I go back to my room at 6:30pm to lie down for a couple of hours and don’t wake up until close to 4:30 the next morning. I go back to sleep until 9:30 and still have a hard time getting out of bed. I realize then how exhausting the traveling has been and how hard it’s been on my body.

That afternoon is grey and rainy. I ditch the touristy area and take a local bus 5 km outside of town to the Real de San Carlos. It’s a ghost town resort that they built in the the 1940’s and only used for a couple of years. I want to visit the remaining buildings which are all abandoned and crumbling grandeur. The first thing I see is a really cool bullfighting ring. It’s surrounded by a small fence topped with barbed wire, but I spy a hole and slip in. I go into the center of the ring and feel like I’m standing in the middle of the Coliseum. A dog emerges from beneath the stands and starts running towards me. I’m afraid that he’s going to bite my leg off and panic until I look closer and see that his tongue is goofily hanging out of his mouth. We play for a moment and then he runs off to who knows where. I walk around beneath the stands among the rusted out metal supports and crumbling bricks.

Off in the distance, I see the remains of the racetrack and head over there. The track itself is overgrown now and I find it funny that there’s a horse grazing around in the center. I sit up in the yellow and green bleachers and enjoy being the only person around. Later in the night, I’m going back to Buenos Aires and there’ll be no more of that.

Photos: Misiones

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 05:46:00 GMT

San Ignacio, Santa Ana, Loreto

Jungle missions

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 05:41:00 GMT

Slight hitch in my travel plans when I’m denied entry into Brazil for lack of a visa. I made it as far as Brazilian immigration, which I had to leave immediately, then cross the street and wait for the bus back to Argentina. Border security was light, to say the least, and I considered just crossing without the stupid visa and sneaking back to Argentina when the time came, but, in the end, I was a law abiding citizen and went back peacefully. Who cares about Brazil, anyway?

Rather than go back to Puerto Iguazu, I decided to head to San Ignacio, 5 hours southwest, a day early. It had been a really hectic week and a half of travel, so I gave myself permission to do nothing and that I did! After pitching my tent, I proceeded to lie down in a hammock, eat an ice cream and take a nap.

Next day, I was off to visit the ruins of the three nearby Jesuit missions. The missions were set up in the 1600’s by the Jesuits to convert the indigenous Guarani people to Christianity. Rather than being imperialist about it, the Jesuits went for the soft sell, resulting in these self-sufficient communities where the Guarani were educated and protected from local baddies, the arts were highly valued and everyone took care of everyone else.

San Ignacio is the most intact of the missions. Some of the larger walls of the cathedral have remained standing and more of it is being restored. There were some cool carvings in the cathedral walls done in a mixture of the Christian and indigenous Guarani styles, but I preferred to wander around the peons quarters and unrestored areas that were crumbling into the jungle. Plants and trees were growing out of the walls and I pretended that I was the first person to discover the ruins.

I planned to continue living in my little fantasy world with a visit to Santa Ana, a less restored mission that was a few kilometers away and reached by a very confusing local bus. It was a disappointment, though. The place was in this awkward sort of adolescent phase of not being restored enough to be interesting and not wild enough to be fun. Also, they are in the process of restoring a biggish section of the cathedral, so there were construction workers and ugly scaffolding everywhere. There was a cool cemetery, which I liked wandering around until I started smelling putrefaction and got creeped out.

The missions redeemed themselves with Loreto, the least visited and least restored of the missions. I almost didn’t go because I was so hot and sweaty, mosquito bitten and annoyed, but I hung in there like a trooper and was duly rewarded. Loreto is awesome.

It was once the most important of the three missions, but is now in shambles. It’s a magical place and, wandering around it, I feel like I’m on Fantasy Island. There are a few walls that remain half intact with trees and bushes growing out of them, but most of the ruins are no taller me. The area is dominated by the jungle. I’m the only visitor and so I lay down in the tall grass of the former living quarters and imagine how this abandoned place was once teeming with life.

Later on that night, I’m lying in my tent and I hear pumping music and people cheering. It sounds like it’s coming from the nearby park and, after an hour or so, I decide to get off my butt and see what’s going on. I leave the campsite and see lines of teenage girls in the street, illuminated by the streetlights, doing a dance routine to the music. I watch for a while, wondering what’s going on, when I realize that they’re probably preparing for Carnival. It looks like fun and I feel like dancing, but instead I go back to my tent and fall asleep feeling lonely.

Photos: Iguazu Falls

escape_artist — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 05:13:00 GMT

Iguazú Falls

escape_artist — Mon, 1 Feb 2010 12:50:00 GMT

I take a bus for 24 hours from Salta to Puerto Iguazú, home of Iguazú Falls. The buses here are so comfortable that 24 hours doesn´t even faze me anymore.

The falls are at the very northeasterly tip of Argentina on the border with Brazil and Paraguay and are, as I learn, a contender for the New 7 Wonders of the World contest (what happened to the old 7? Are the pyramids not good enough for people anymore? Zheesh!) I can see why because usually, I´m not much of a waterfalls person, but I am moved by Iguazú. The landscape itself is dramatic, even if the falls weren´t there. It´s all lush jungles and palm trees with rivers meandering through. There is a constant spray of water that shrouds the surrounding areas in a dramatic mist. It all feels very exotic and makes me want to float down it in a canoe that I´ve made out of a fallen tree or a big, old-fashioned paddle boat. Also makes me think of Werner Herzog and all his jungle movies (Aguirre, Fitzcarraldo, The White Diamond, etc, etc, etc... the man definitely has a thing for the jungle).

The falls themselves are seemingly endless and so powerful. I´m amazed that there´s enough water in the world to be able to constantly pour down like that! Visually, it is a spectacle, but add to this the sound of the water crashing down and the feeling of the hot sun on your shoulders and the cool mist of the water on your face and body. In some areas, the mist is so strong that it´s like a shower and you get drenched! The water gets in your eyes and literally blinds you.

The only thing that ruins the experience of the falls is the sheer number of people at the park. Obviously the falls are not my little secret. Everybody knows about them, everybody knows that they´re so great and everybody wants to see them. Unfortunately this makes for some very crowded areas and a bit of overdevelopment in my opinion. There´s even a train that takes you to the trails! I would have preferred more of a virgin experience, but I suppose it´s a service to humanity to have the falls accessible to everybody.

The whole time I´m there, I´m imagining what it´d be like to be the first person to discover the falls, before all the trains, tourist shops and viewing platforms were in place. Even with all that stuff there, it´s a powerful experience to come so close to something that could, with no remorse, wipe you out in a second if you got in its way.

Photos: Northwestern Argentina

escape_artist — Mon, 1 Feb 2010 12:29:00 GMT

I´m dancing, screaming, itching, squealing, fevered, feeling HOT HOT HOT!!!

Salta and the Northwest

escape_artist — Mon, 1 Feb 2010 11:50:00 GMT

I left the farm a week and a half ago and went to Salta in northwestern Argentina. I loved the city so much. It has a very European feel (go colonialism!) with cobblestone streets, Spanish style cathedrals and beautiful plazas. It is also hot hot hot (but not as hot as in Misiones, where I am now).

I spent a low key couple of days in Salta, hanging out on the plaza and eating, visiting a couple of museums and taking a cable car up to the top of a mountain. Normally I am against cable cars when there´s the option of hiking, but it was so hot that I put my morals aside.

My favorite museum in Salta was MAAM, the (loose English translation) Archeological Museum of the High Mountains. Their claim to fame is the mummies of three Incan children, found nearby at the top of a volcano and perfectly preserved by the cold. Their skin doesn´t even look all black and wrinkly like most mummies. The children are believed to be the ¨victims¨of an Incan harvest sacrifice. After spending a year reading Joseph Campbell´s mythological/ anthropological coup de grace, The Masks of God, you know I loved seeing this. They only exhibit one mummy at a time and the one that I saw was a young boy in a sitting position, clutching his knees to his chest and hiding his face. It was a really powerful thing. Photos are not aloud, out of respect. There was a moment when I could have taken one, when the guard went for a bathroom break or something, but I decided to have some human decency and abstain.

One night, I decided to go to a peña, a folk music club typical to the northwest. My guidebook recommended one that was way way far away, but supposed to be the least known and visited by tourists and, therefore, the most authentic. I´m always looking for the authentic experience so I went. As I´m constantly reminded throughout this trip, Rough Guide is the worst and I shouldn´t trust anything that they say. Not only was the peña not there, but the address didn´t even exist. Errr!

However... I had a great time walking around this random area of Salta late at night. There wasn´t another tourist in sight, just people sitting outside of their houses and talking, tiny hole in the wall restaurants with the interiors painted bright colors and the TVs turned up loud, bored people working the late shift at the local convenience stores and a bunch of mechanics sitting around drinking mate in a garage with a huge pictures of Jesus. The mood of the evening was like a Roberto Bolaño short story (he´s like a South American Raymond Carver).

After Salta, I continued north to Jujuy province along the Quebrada de Humahuaca, a gorge lined with multi-colored mountains. I visited 4 small towns in the region in 4 days- Purmamarca (home of the fabulous Mountain of Seven Colors), Iruya (a tiny town 3000 meters up in the mountains and near the Bolivian border that maintains a somewhat traditional way of life), Humahuaca & Tilcara.

I absolutely loved these small towns (except Purmamarca which was way too touristy). It´s kind of like time has stood still- dirt roads, people in traditional clothes, no blackberries or wifi. Actually, all of these towns are touristy, but I deliberately sought out the non-touristy areas. I love walking around the residential streets, not seeing another traveler or tourist in sight, and watching people go about their lives.

It was raining in Humahuaca and I went out for one of my nightly walks. I was on a quiet residential street outside of the main town area when I saw in the distance a short old woman wearing a red hooded cape. I decided to follow her, as a sort of adventure, because the scene reminded me of this Nicolas Roeg movie "Don't Look Now." It's a thriller from the 70's and has the creepiest ending involving Donald Sutherland following a short old woman in a red hooded cape around Venice. I followed her for maybe 2 minutes until she turned up a hilly road that was pitch black and I got too scared. I hurried back to my little campsite and tried to sleep amongst the ruckus caused by the drunk Argentine students who had pitched their tents close to mine.

I spent most of my time in the northwest just wandering around like that and having quiet, personal moments. The whole northwest is pretty poor and I realize that it´s kind of wrong for me to seek out the areas where there´s like garbage on the streets and barefoot children running around. It´s just that the touristy areas are so artificial. They´re like theme parks where people go to the thing they´re supposed to go to and see whatever they´re supposed to see. I don´t like that. I´m not trying to be a snob or anything as I do have a special place in my heart for tourist traps like the world´s largest mud-ball and I´ve been known to buy cheesy souveniers by the handful, but after a while the whole tourist thing wears thin. I like seeing what life in the area is really like. To me, that´s the whole point of traveling.