After our first of many overnight buses throughout South
America we arrived in the city of Cordoba. From what we’d read about the town
and region it seemed like a good place to stop for a couple of nights to break
up the journey to where we really wanted to go, that being north-western
Argentina. Cordoba is, how do I put this, kind of boring. It’s a University
town in central Argentina, not really known for amazing architecture, culture
or nightlife. In fact after speaking with a few locals the only thing to really
see in town is the Jesuit Quarter of the city, which just happened to be closed
while we were in town. So after a few hours of meaninglessly wandering around
the city, not really seeing all that much, we figured we’d seen pretty much all
of what Cordoba had to offer, so we decided that we would travel out into the
surrounding countryside for the remainder of our time in Cordoba. We took,
pretty randomly, a couple of super-cheap local buses out of Cordoba (I’m
talking an hour’s ride for about $2each) and eventually found ourselves on the
side of the road in the tiny town of Tanti.
It was a pretty surreal feeling, foreign country, foreign
language and in what seemed like the middle of nowhere with no clue where to go
– I loved it. We exercised as much Spanish as we could remember and through a
couple of conversations with the Tanti locals, and also utilising some wifi
when we could, we learnt of a fantastic stream that flows nearby the town with
excellent swimming holes. It was a wonderful afternoon of strolling along the
stream until we found the perfect spot, setting out a towel and soaking in the
Argentine sun, then going for a nice dip to cool off (which was definitely
needed – the South American sun is just as, if not harsher than the Australian
sun). As the afternoon wore on we
noticed the sky starting to change colour slightly. I noticed that not too far
away the clouds we looking very dark, heavy and ominous. The wind had also
picked up and cooled down. We thought it best to start the journey back to
Cordoba. It took us a couple of hours to get back and we were lucky enough to
not encounter any rain while we did. Once we arrived in Cordoba however, it was
apparent that we had been much luckier than first thought. The town resembled a
scene straight out of a disaster film – it was like we were on the set of
‘Twister’. Streets were either littered with debris, blocked or flooded,
Billboards were hanging from their stilts and thirty meter tall palm trees lay
across crumbled fences. Apparently we had missed the storm of the decade by
around one hour. We couldn’t believe it – we had only been 50kms away and had
not even felt a single drop. The deluge really sunk in when we got back to our
room and found it flooded and half our gear soaked. Obviously closed windows
were no match for this storm. Luckily none of our gear was damaged beyond
repair and after a 24hr drying session everything was once again packed for
another overnight bus ride to the north-western Argentine town of Salta.
We instantly liked Salta. A medium sized city nestled in
between the mountains and full of culture. Wandering the city we found walking
streets littered with retail therapy outlets, countless café’s and restaurants
dishing up some of the finest Empanadas, Tomales, Humitas and Parrilla meat
we’ve had, many amazing Spanish style Churches and a central plaza lined with
museums and historic colonial buildings. It also was a little more special to
us because it was the first time we had arrived in a new town with nothing
planned or booked, we simply played it by ear and found a pretty cool little
hostel to stay in with staff that we super helpful with giving us suggestions
for our stay.
Oh, I almost forgot, Salta also has a look-out complex on
top of its nearby San Bernardo Mountain. It has a Gondola to the top which only
costs $5ea, but what interested me a little more were the 1070 steps to the top
that most of the locals utilise for their daily workouts. Ingrid accompanied me
the first time we scaled the steps together, but said once was enough. I on the
other hand, having not had any kind of competitive sport or gym activities in
over 7 months was craving a challenge and so climbed the steps on a few more
occasions trying to beat my previous times. It made me realise how much I was
missing that.
Somehow we stumbled across a really beautiful B&B in the
town of Cerrillos, about 20kms outside of Salta, and decided to splurge and
have a little bit of luxury for a few days. Most of our time in Cerrillos
involved lazing around the pool, reading, catching up on this blog and heading
into town for some seriously good local food. But the highlight of our stay
would have to have been when ‘Corso’ came to town. ‘Corso’ is the North-western
Argentine equivalent to Carnivale, and it was our first time witnessing the
party-like atmosphere. The centre of town was completely blocked off – the streets
were barricaded and you could not even see in. The only way in was through one
of the old ladies collecting 10 Pesos per person. Once you walked through the
gate you were greeted with a face-full of white foam that all the children of
the town were coating each other with – if you were a manufacturer of these
foam cans this would be your biggest profit day of the year for sure! After battling our way through the crowds of
kids with foam, trying frantically to protect the camera but still having mad
fun all the while, we arrived at the middle of the action. The main street of
the town had been converted into a parade avenue and at around 11pm the parade
started. Dance crews, Percussion troops, Puppeteers and traditionally clad
locals paraded through the town in what seemed like a never ending stream of
festival goers. We managed to last until around 1.30am before starting to pass
out in our chairs from fatigue so we called it a night. The next day we learnt
that the parade in fact did not finish until around 3.30am! Quite amazing for
such a small town of only around 3000 people.
We moved back into Salta after our brief stay in luxury and
back to the same funky hostel. It just so happened to coincide with Superbowl
and so we all organised a home cooked Parrilla (Argentine BBQ) and got to know
a great bloke from Seattle, Jason, who tried his best to educate us on the
finer (basic) points of American Football. Turned out that Jason was heading to
a couple of nearby towns that we had also planned to visit. We had booked a
rental car for the next day and offered a spare seat to him so that it would
save him getting the 6am bus. And so we inherited another traveller on our
adventure.
First stop on our road trip of Salta (the state is also
called Salta of which the city of Salta is the capital) was Cachi. Cachi is a
cool little village at the base of the Andes, however the road to get there is
even more memorable. As you turn off the main highway and head towards Cachi,
you leave the lush Tobacco plains of the Salta basin behind and start to climb.
The landscape changes dramatically fast as it turns from Jungle-like greenery
to Red rocked Mountains. You climb around 2500 meters quite quickly; driving
through flooded roads half washed away by descending waters, passing others who
have driven through said waters a little too slowly and have become bogged. Along
the way you are blessed with many beautiful views and heaps of wildlife; Mountain
Goats, Condors and Wild Cattle everywhere you look. To describe how we all felt
accurately I have to quote our Seattle friend, “Nature. F*ck yeah.”
Eventually we reach the top where we encounter a stunning view of the road we
have just climbed and also the smallest Chapel I have ever seen, barely big
enough to house a Priest and a single Church goer. Situated on the edge of the
descent I guess it is the last chance the highly religious have to pray for a
safe trip down the mountain. As we continue, the landscape has now become a
vast plateau at 3500m above sea-level, littered with 8 meter tall Cacti and
wild Donkeys (very cute). After another half
an hour of driving we arrive in Cachi and head straight up to the Cachi
Cemetery situated on a hill just out of town where we are greeted with yet
another amazing display of nature, this time an electrical storm in the
mountains to not just the East, but the West as well. Truly magical.
After a night in Cachi, and almost free lodging (we found an
open hostel and set up shop on some spare bunks, but there was no one working
there in sight, and it remained that way all night and morning – we only
noticed as leaving that you needed to check in up the road at the local café and
being the honest people we are decided to play the good karma card and pay) we
hit the road again heading for Cafayate. Good thing we checked with the local
tourist office about the state of the roads because apparently the road from
Cachi to Cafayate was completely closed due to the flooding, so we actually
needed to backtrack practically all the way to Salta before heading towards
Cafayate. No real complains from any of the three of us, remembering how
amazing the drive had been. The road to Cafayate held its own magical moments
as well. The road follows a torrential river snaking through a moon-like
landscape of Red Mountains. The highlight for me being when we stopped from a
walk through La Garganta del Diablo, a canyon-like cave naturally cut out of
the side of a mountain by rain fall.
Cafayate itself is really cosy. A little bigger and more
developed than Cachi, and littered with Bodega’s (Wineries) which we spent an
afternoon sampling. The region is known for its Torrontes grapes – a really
nice aromatic white wine that even the most religious red wine drinker (AKA
Ingrid) had to admit tasted amazing.
Just outside of Cafayate are the pre-Inca ruins of Quilmes. It was simply
amazing walking through this labyrinth of low lying walls which once was a
thriving city at the base of the Andes.
The next day it was back to Salta, and goodbye to our mate
Jason, who was continuing south to Mendoza. So we drove back through the
amazing scenery once again and arrived in Salta for the third time. This time
for only a brief stay before we were to board the longest bus ride we’ve ever
had. A 26hr trip from Salta to Puerto Iguazu, the Argentinean home of the
famous Iguazu Falls.
