Well, ok. More like, I left my books on my desk and hopped on a plane that took me to the northern province of Salta!
Leaving my cozy apartment at 5am, I trudged through the early morning rain to catch a taxi to the airport. My flight was scheduled to take off around 6:30 with touchdown in Salta around 8:40. Apart from sitting next to a very flustered business man, it was an easy flight complete with boxed breakfast. I love flying in this country!
The Salta airport was very small. To give you a perspective of how small- the women's bathroom had one stall. Yeah, it was that small. Not needing to wait at baggage claim, I went straight to the taxi post and was able to get a taxi right away. The taxi driver was incredibly nice, as would prove to be the case with the rest of the northern Argentines. I think I asked him one question and he just went on and on about how wonderful his city was. He tried to convince me that I needed to stay there longer than one day before heading to Jujuy, which, it turns out, he was right about that. However time was not on my side and I did have to get back to schoolwork and real life. He dropped me off right in front of my hostel, but not without giving me his number just in case we would need another taxi while we were in the city.
I was meeting Melanie, Maddy and Molly later on in the afternoon as they had taken the bus from Buenos Aires the afternoon before. A bus ride is close to 20 hours (which I opted out of as I had some left-over money on my travel voucher). So I checked in to the hostel myself and finagled with the hostel director a bit to see if we could all be placed in the same room as I had reserved my room a little later than them. Like the taxi driver, the head of the hostel was incredibly nice and worked some magic to get us our own private room. It wasn't quite ready when I arrived, which was perfectly fine with me, so I sat down in the lounge to read a couple of guide books to get my bearings down.
As I was reading, a man about 8 feet tall walked in to the lounge area. Without the slightest hesitation, he asked me what I was doing that day- in English. I guess the fact that the guide book I was reading was in English gave it away. And my blonde hair. But that is how I met Elliot. Elliot is from Australia and had been weaving around South America for a couple of months, and would be returning back to Australia at the end of May to complete his law school studies at "Uni." Along the way (I think while he was in Brazil), he met up with Chris. Chris had also come in to the lounge area but was on the computer a little further away. Chris is from England, and had also been traveling around South America for a couple months. He and Elliot seemed to be on relatively the same travel path so their friendship had developed over the span of a couple different countries. Elliot told me they were getting ready to climb up to the highest peak in Salta city and invited me to go with them. I hesitated for a minute as I hadn't put my bookbag anywhere and wanted to make sure I was here the girls arrived, but I was quickly convinced to go. Five minutes in to my hostel stay and I already had new friends to go on adventures with. That is what I love.
Out on the streets of Salta, you could see the hill we would be climbing. So with no better directions, we simply walked in the general direction of the hill and eventually made it to the opening. I enjoyed hearing Elliot and Chris talk about their travel experiences and the people they met, along with finally being able to compare an English accent with an Australian accent back to back. It amazed me how quickly I felt comfortable with them, as if we had been traveling together for quite some time. But I guess when you are constantly moving from place to place you really have to expedite the friendship process. You just jump in to things and have to learn to take down the barriers a lot faster otherwise the moment to be friends with these people can quickly pass. We talked and laughed up the entire 1070 step climb.
Salta
Yes, 1070 steps- but not that we counted. There is a sign at the bottom of the hill that boasts this number. And actually, we had the option of walking to the top or taking the sky buckets up. We chose the more adventurous route, although the steps were already created and it seemed to be a popular work-out destination. The girl in front of us was in full work-out attire and sported her mp3 player without headphones. Therefore, we too got to mix nature with the commercial world the entire way up. That is one thing I've noticed in South America; the use of headphones does not seem to be required. Its as if everyone assumes that everyone else has the same music tastes and would like to listen to music with them at the same time. I beg to differ. When I'm in nature, I prefer the sound of the birds as opposed to reggaeton beats. But oh well, it gave us something to laugh about.
Along the hike, there were several booths aligning the path. We realized on the hike down that they were actually the stations of the cross, which was particularly neat as it we were coming upon Easter weekend. At the top of the hill, there was a stations of the cross presentation put on by a group of what looked like, high school students. It was such a cool experience to be standing on top of that hill, listening to the story that I've heard so many times before but never in that language.
The view from the top of the hill was truly incredible. It looked down upon the city of Salta and across to the foothills of the Andes mountains. It was kept up very well, including some of the greenest grass I think I've seen in Argentina. There was a small market, restaurant, playground, and even a little botanical garden to complete this attraction- which was surprisingly not full of tourists. We admired from several different directions before making the hike back down.
Back on ground level, we stumbled across another artisanal market, and to my surprise, the boys actually wanted to shop around for a bit. I refrained from buying anything at this time, as I figured the girls would want to come back later. Elliot also refrained from buying things as he decided he wasn't going to spend money until 4pm, for whatever reason. For lunch, Chris and I bought fresh fruit smoothies from an old man who could barely move around his booth. I got a pineapple smoothie while Chris went for a combo of banana and pineapple. I think the smoothie man liked me a little more as he told me to take a few sips but then kept refilling my cup.
Around 1, I headed back to the hostel to wait for the girls while Chris and Elliot went on to explore some other parts of the town. I was worried that I was going to miss them arriving, but that was definitely not the case. At three, the girls showed up. Their bus had been delayed 2 hours due to a terrible rain storm the night before. Just as I was about to do some more exploring, they walked in the door. Talk about perfect timing!
After we all finally got settled in, we set out to explore the main plaza and to grab a bite to eat. I had been told the empanadas in the northern provinces were the best, so I had every intention of eating only those the entire time- plus they're the cheapest thing you can buy. We found a cute outdoor cafe and enjoyed great service (which is very unusual for Argentina). I was quite shocked when the empanadas came out though. They looked as if they had been shrunk in the microwave- about half the size of what I was used to in Buenos Aires. As I did some more comparison through out the trip, I realized that this was indeed the norm. The flavor was great, however, so I wasn't misled about that!
We all needed to get a little souvenir shopping done so we went back to the market I was at earlier. This market was also situated by a little pond that was dotted with lovers everywhere. We made a game of taking pictures of as many couples as possible. Invasion of privacy? I don't think so. If they're going to be so public about their affections, I can take pictures. We also found a park where we dusted off our monkey-bar skills. The four of us won the hearts of a flirty 3-year-old boy, which made it incredibly hard for his grandpa to make him leave the park. It was such quaint and peaceful afternoon.
After a while, we were overcome with tiredness. It had been a long day of traveling for all of us, so we headed back to the hostel for a nap. The nap turned in to us waking up around 9:15, just in time for dinner and nightlife. We were also told repeatedly that Salta has incredible nightlife. We took the advice of the front desk worker and headed to a street just past the city center. We found a restaurant with seating outside and ordered some wine (Torrontes- an Argentine grape), and food. As the night progressed, things never seemed to liven up. The restaurants were closing and the people seemed to disappear. With no incentive to stay out, we headed back to the hostel without experiencing this famous nightlife. I'll blame it on Easter weekend.
The next morning, we had a bus to catch to go up to Jujuy, the province just above Salta. We headed to the bus station a little earlier because Melanie and I had to change our returning bus tickets to Buenos Aires for a later time. Working through a couple of language barrier issues, we successfully changed our tickets- even though there was a sign that specifically said we couldn't. Thats another thing I've learned here, and complements what I've learned in class. The Argentines love personal interaction, and even though a sign may read one thing, if you personally interact with someone and you become more human than just another number, the possibilities are endless.
While Melanie and I were taking care of those tickets, Maddy and Molly came back to tell us that the bus we had tickets for to Salta didn't exist. Why in the world the ticket site even let us buy tickets for a bus that didn't exist is beyond me. For a little while, we contemplated renting a car and even visited a couple of car rental places to check out the prices and feasibility of it all. It turned out that it wouldn't be cost effective at all to do so, so instead we just changed our bus tickets for next departure, which was only an hour and a half away at that point.
Two hours after leaving Salta we arrived at the bus station in Jujuy. The bus station was located next to a market (there are markets everywhere!), and there were lots of temptations as we made our way to our hostel. My host family had warned me that there wasn't anything to actually do in the actual city of Jujuy, but I actually liked it a lot. It had a lot of similarities to Salta, except maybe a bit smaller. But it was definitely a charming and quiet South American town. We arrived during siesta hour, which we had all forgotten existed as Buenos Aires is amongst the only South American city that does not participate in siestas. So the quiet streets were even more quiet as we passed through on the way to our hostel which was located about 20 minutes (walking) from the bus station.
Our room at this hostel had a great set-up: 6 beds set up in the form of triple bunk beds, and a private bath. We had two more friends, Rachita and Sara, who would be joining us later that day which completed our group of 6. Feeling adventurous, I called the top bunk.
After settling in, we walked to a nearby park and relaxed for a little bit. Then we decided to head back towards the bus station to check out the markets we had passed on the way in. Along the way we got distracted and stopped in for some ice cream, which I think was 6 pesos for two scoops in a waffle cone, which translates to $1.50. And it was good!
The hostel had a full kitchen at our disposal, and as many of us were missing cooking (half sarcasm), we thought it would be fun to make dinner that night. We settled on an omelette menu and found a grocery store nearby to get what we needed (siesta time had passed and stores were opened again). The omelette idea changed to a huge scrambler as we realized the difficulty in getting everything ready at once, but nevertheless, we cooked up a fantastic scrambler mixed with onions, cheese, and green bell peppers. We even went so far as to making our own, fresh, french fries seasoned with a few onions and some basil. We found a huge bottle of wine on sale for 12 pesos ($3) which was a great accompaniment to our fine dish. It was a great evening of eating and enjoying one another's company. The wine consumption left us all a bit tired so we called it quits at, wait for it, 10:30. But I have absolutely no shame in that bed time especially since there wasn't much of anything to do after that hour in Jujuy anyway.
Homemade dinner :)
Sometime during the night, Sara and Rachita arrived so we woke up to a full room. We had a little breakfast of leftover eggs and bread and then got ready for our all day excursion to Pumamarca and the Salinas Grandes.
Around 9am, we piled in to a van with about 10 other people to Pumamarca. The drive up was incredibly gorgeous, with rolling hills that eventually became a desert scenery. Cactus began to pop up and on occasion I would see a small stream. This is my favorite scenery. Our tour guide was great and was really informative all the way up. I went in and out of listening to him however, as translating gets tiring, and I was also sitting in the back of the bus so it was a bit more of a strain to hear. But he was an extremely animated guy who clearly loved his job. Sara later found out that he used to be a teacher who had taught in many different towns which inevitably made him known everywhere we went.
It was a long and winding road all the way up and all the way down. Jujuy is already in a higher altitude but we just kept going higher. It is in this province, and this province only, that the use of coca leaves is legal as it helps with high altitude sickness. Our tour guide was prepared with a bag full of the leaves and encouraged us all to try. Well, when in Rome! The locals that chew this stuff eventually create permanent pouches in their cheeks. You don't actually eat these leaves, but stuff them to the side and suck on them for a long time. I don't think you can actually get high from the leaves until an hour or so of use. I only tried it for about 10 minutes before I got tired of it and spit it out.
Coca leaves
Our first stop was in Pumamarca, which is home to the Cerro de los Siete Colores (Hill of 7 Colors). Thanks to different minerals and geological times, this area of hills adorned the area with more than the typical red-brown desert colors. There have been so many unique natural beauties that I have seen in my travels in Argentina, each one vastly different from the other.
At the base of the Cerro de los Siete Colores is a little town that blends in perfectly with the desert scene. The town center was taken over by a massive market that was filled mainly with different articles of clothing made from Alpaca hair and also a good amount of jewelry (not from Alpaca). We wove in and out of the aisles admiring the craftsmanship of so many different artists. I finally gave in and bought an Alpaca sweater which is incredibly soft... and now I think I might buy another one. We didn't stay for long, however, as we had to move on to the Salinas Grandes. But our tour guide told us we would be stopping back there for lunch which would also give us more time to look around.
Cerro de los Siete Colores
Back in the bus and back to the winding roads, we made our way to the Salinas Grandes. Along the way, we spotted some wild life, Vicunas, which look very similar to the llama. Unfortunately, I only got a picture of their behinds, but Google images also have a good selection of pictures, ha!
The Salinas Grandes is a field of salt. Many years ago there was an ocean covering the land, but as time would have it, it has dried up leaving no trace but this field of white. I think the salt goes down about 6 feet or so and I'm not quite sure how wide the area was. The salt is then naturally mined in few pools that have been dug in various places in the field. I had absolutely no idea salt flats existed until this trip, and I am so glad I got to experience these! The girls and I had a lot of fun taking optical illusion pictures and well, just pictures in general. Such a unique landscape. And of course, I tasted some of the salt in it's pure form, which I don't think is recommended for your health, buttt oh well.
It had been a long day and we were all getting pretty hungry, so we got back on the bus and headed back down the mountain to Pumamarca for lunch break. I think one of the other members in our group started feeling a little light headed from the altitude and I was beginning to feel it a little bit as well and stayed in the bus when we stopped at the highest peak.
After lunch, some of us went shopping again while the others went for a little hike through the colored hills. In the market, we ran in to a couple other girls from our program who happened to be staying in Jujuy for the weekend. We also found a llama in the market! But, if you took a picture of it you would have to pay its owner. Tricky tricky people they were!
It was a long day and we headed back to our hostel as the sun began to go down. We still had some wine leftover from the night before so we decided to have a little happy hour along with some grapes and cheese that Sara and Rachita bought in Cafayate, the wine country of Salta. We didn't have the gumption to make dinner again so walked down to the city center and found an upscale convenience store for some humitas and tamales. A humita is very similar to a tamale, but it is filled with ground corn and cheese. Very tasty. Somehow, an ice cream store found us for dessert and we just couldn't say no to its offer.
I think I've commented before about the dogs that just roam the streets here. They are all very tame and have never had a bad experience with them. On our walk back from dinner we noticed a strange dog that liked to play in traffic. Every time a car would drive by, he would go running directly in front of the headlights while barking. We were terrified a car would actually hit him, but they never did. But this dog did this for every car that came by, until he got distracted by another group of dogs. We were somewhat in the path of these dogs so we tried to walk away quickly, without running, to get away before the inevitable fight broke out. It was a close call on my part, but I got my foot out of the way just in time and the fight was soon over. But then this strange dog continued to follow us all the way back to our hostel, still playing with the cars. Very very strange, and for the first time I was actually afraid of a dog.
Our last day was spent lounging around the city. We were all leaving at various times so we couldn't really do any big excursions. Melanie, Rachita, Sara, and I tried to go visit the "hot springs," (we found out later it was actually just a pool, more or less), but after waiting over thirty minutes for the bus to come, we settled for hanging out at a café.
And now comes the fun part. The journey home.
Melanie and I were supposed to leave Jujuy on a bus at 6:30. We went to the ticket booth to find out which platform we should expect the bus to meet us at. I thought she mentioned something about having to wait until 8pm, but Melanie understood we had to wait at platform 8. Well, 6:30 rolls around and the bus hasn't come. 7 goes by and it still hadn't come. So we go back to the ticket lady and we discover that our bus had broken down or had some trouble at the Bolivian border, or something. Regardless, we did indeed have to wait until 8 for the next bus. We were told we didn't have to change our tickets or anything, so we found a bench outside and ate fresh-popped popcorn.
At about 7:45, we went to the bathroom to avoid having to use the horrible bus bathrooms. But honestly, I think the bus bathroom may have been a better option. And this is the case in many public restrooms in Argentina: they have something called a "collaborative," which means you pay to have toilet paper and, I think, a "clean" bathroom. I've learned to bring toilet paper with me, or just suck it up just not use any. It does not make sense to me to pay to use a bathroom that is most certainly not clean. Oh! Some of these bathrooms don't even have a seat! So you're essentially paying to pee in a hole. And good luck finding soap afterwards.
After the bathroom, Melanie realizes she can't find her bus ticket. At this point, I saw the bus pulling around the corner so we had to act fast. We went back to the ticket lady, explained she had thrown her ticket away and asked if another ticket could be printed. She couldn't do that, but she entered her information into the computer system and told us we were ok to get on the bus.
I handed my ticket to the bus assistant, who ripped it but then would not let us on the bus. We started to explain Melanie's problem, but that wasn't why we weren't allowed on the bus. He pointed out that we were supposed to be on the previous bus. Yes, we knew that, but it had broken down and we were told to get on this bus and that we also did not need to get new tickets. We couldn't board because our seats had been taken. At this point, Melanie and I were on the verge of tears as we just wanted to get home.
A man with a clipboad finally came over and he got us situated on the bus. We were bumped down to the bottom floor, but not in paired seats. They didn't take our bags under the bus either, which really but a damper on our leg room. And it would be a 20 hour bus ride. As we take in the atmosphere, I start getting the feeling that we were not going to have typical bus service. Usually on these types of trips, you are given meals and blankets. But I had a funny feeling about this place.
The lady sitting next to Melanie seemed a little flustered, and about 2 hours in to our trip she asked the driver if we were going to be eating. He said we would be stopping shortly, but not before we picked up three extra passengers who didn't even have a seat and had to stand in the aisle.
For dinner, we were all kicked off in a place that I still do not know where. We filed in to a cafeteria type of place and were served some type of chicken and rice platters. It was here that we realized we were the only white people on the bus (which I only say to give you a better idea of the place). On all other trips I had been on, there was a great mixture of people, but not here. I was beginning to understand we were on a third class bus.
After dinner and back on the bus, the bus assistant approached me and told me I would have to get up and relocate on our next stop because someone else had that seat. Upset, I didn't understand why I was going to have to get up in the middle of the night after my original seat had already been taken. I didn't understand why this new passenger couldn't just go upstairs. But it was late, and I could not think to argue or question in Spanish. So, three hours later, I was moved upstairs.
Upstairs was an entirely different world. The smell was horrible. There were children sleeping in the aisle. Nothing about it was clean. In order for me to sit, we had to wake up a very old, very typical South American looking woman who was asleep with her mouth wide open. She tried to talk with me a little bit, but I don't think she was actually speaking Spanish. But nevertheless, she shared her blanket with me, and for that I was extremely thankful as I would have otherwise frozen during the night.
I didn't sleep much that night, and at 7:30, the bus came to a stop for breakfast. We were all herded off again to another unknown place in an unknown cafeteria. All of the women stood in line to use the bathroom of which there were about 10 stalls but only 3 that were functioning. For breakfast, we had to pay to get a cup of tea or coffee and a croissant and biscuit. I opted out of this. Thirty minutes later, we were back on the bus.
About this time, I began noticing how bad the lady next to me smelled. But it wasn't a body odor smell either. It wasn't until much later in the afternoon that I realized she had been chewing coca leaves the entire time. Coca leaves have a horrendous smell, which I didn't realize when I tried it earlier in the trip because I was not a seasoned user. However, I smelled it now and I smelled it the entire day. I could not turn my head in her direction and was forced to take small sips of air.
Lunch was the same type of deal as breakfast and dinner, except we stopped at a gas station more or less and were given thirty minutes to buy snacks. Again, I opted out of this and was thankful for the leftover pieces of fruit and popcorn I had from the day before.
Sometime after lunch, the bus was stopped by immigration patrol or something of the sort. All of the passengers had to pull out their identification. I think there has been a lot of trouble with illegal Bolivian immigrants, and I could definitely see how this was a target checkpoint.
They did play movies on this trip, however each one was about the most gory movie I have ever seen. I settled for sleeping, which seemed to pass the time a lot quicker anyway. I was miserable the entire time. By the time we finally pulled in to the Buenos Aires bus station, it had been about 24 hours worth of traveling. Melanie and I practically ran home. There were several points that I wanted to cry on that trip, but my eyes were so dry that I couldn't even produce tears when I actually wanted to. Buenos Aires is kind of an exception to the majority of South America. That bus ride really gave me a taste of a lot of the unjust and corrupt practices that exist particularly within Argentina.
I am now back home in Buenos Aires, and have had ample amount of time to recuperate from that bus experience. It's now down to three weeks left and I'll be back home in Raleigh. The next three weeks will be filled with studying, finishing final projects, and checking off any last minute Buenos Aires musts before I head home.
