Humidity and water of Iguazu Falls be damned! Time to visit northwest Argentina, a land of dry climate, mountains, indigenous culture and the wine region of Cafayate. The jumping off point for all of this is Salta, in its own right a nice little city. I only spent a couple of days here to get my bearings and plan out the next week or so. I walked to the top of Cerro San Bernardo to experience sweeping views of the city, maxed on some delicious beef and chicken empanadas and tried the aptly named beer “Salta”.
In the morning, I took the bus north roughly three hours to experience the Quebrada de Humahuaca, a multi-hundred mile valley with many small towns in the middle flanked by multi-colored mountains. The drive was picteresque and these small towns are all unique in that they maintain a lot of indigenous culture; way different from the big cities to the south and east, which have a little European flair. First stop was in Purmamarca to see El Cerro de los Siete Colores or the Seven Colored Peak. This tiny tourist town has a peak and an accompanying multi-hour walk with the main attraction being the beautiful mountain side looming over the town. On the amazingly sunny day, the pinks, whites, browns, purples, reds, greens and yellows were absolutely stunning. I forget all the elements and minerals that give the peak this amazing layered color, but some include sulfur, iron, limestone, copper, etc. After walking around for several hours and taking too many pictures, I hopped on the bus to Tilcara, an hour north.
Arriving in Ticara, I took my first leap of faith during this trip in not having accomodations booked ahead of time. There was a hostel I wanted to try with good reviews, but I rolled the dice and tried to get a room walking in. I rolled snake eyes! They were full and the sister hostel down the street was full too. I ended up finding a place in the end and much like most of the trip thus far I was the only American. Unlike other parts of the trip, English was not spoken much at all and I happily joined two separate groups of Argentinian friends. Even after having a dinner of lentil stew with alpaca cubes, which was delicious, they invited me to have some homemade polenta and some beer.
After hanging out for a few hours and understanding a fraction of the conversation since they talked so fast with each other, we headed to the pena around midnight to listen to some traditional folk music. The music is what you would expect with acoustic guitar, drums and flute; however, the traditional dancing was brand spanking new to me. The choreography with your partner consists of keeping your hands above your head, turned up with arms outstretched. Finger snapping optional. The dance itself consists a bunch of twists and turns, though you don’t always switch places with your partner. It’s almost like graceful, fancy walking in a way. The funniest part is there’s a ten second part where you kick and drag your feet against the floor with your arms at your side of you’re the man. The woman does a more graceful solo dance. As always, the women looked much better dancing than the guys. The whole dance takes less than a minute and then you repeat. Certainly interesting and not too hard to learn. After some shared beers and fernet and cokes, I had it down for the most part.
Around 2 A.M. the band changed and the cumbia came out. Add in the brass instruments, take out the flute and pick up the tempo and you’ve got it. It was so much fun attempting to dance. I am absolutely and entirely jealous that so many people learn to dance to this type of amazing music at a young age. One of the girls, Augustina was a peach and I think we were actually able to hold our own. So much fun footwork and spins. MUST LEARN!!!
Getting back around 4 A.M. the previous night, I went for a couple two hour hikes to sweat out the booze and get some exercise. Again, the mountainous views were absolutely stunning and it was a good way to spend the day. We went to the pena again the next night, but it was only folkloric music and I went home earlier, so nothing groundbreaking to report.
The next afternoon was the beginning of the three or four-day indigenous fest that happens every January in town. In the main square a bunch of little girls and boys were dressed up in traditional costumes to perform a dance. The girls had pink jackets, tights and hats while the fellas were dressed in studded turquoise shirts/jackets, blacks pants and black boots. The girls didn’t do a whole lot when they danced beside moving their feet, but the boys’ dance included parts where they did high kicks, air punches and a little grunt. Both funny and quite impressive at the same time. Everyone in the crowd was having a great time snacking on tamales, humitas, kabobs and of course, the drink of choice for the men and band: Budweiser. It’s nice to know that I’ve got so much in common with northern, indigenous Argentinians.
The cherry on top in Tilcara was when Augie and I walked past a little sports court with some kids and they invited us to play soccer with them. It was a perfect example of the kind of spontaneous thing you hear about people doing while traveling. It didn’t matter that I was a total gringo. It was just a nice, good moment that takes you back to when you were a kid playing outside and enjoying life. I grabbed the bus that night to return to Salta for the night so I could head to Cafayate the next day to experience some world famous Argentine wines.
