Hey-yo,
So good thing that wasn’t actually my last post. Yeesh! What a Debbie Downer.
Luckily, I had just enough funds and just enough time to visit one last province of the country this week: the desert northwest of Argentina, historically belonging to the Inca people and later seized by the gauchos. Today, the city of Salta is placed as Argentina’s 8th largest city with a population of around 460,000 residents, comparable to the population of Allegheny county.
As I expected, it was “stinking, filthy”* hot and I survived only because I brought along with me camisoles and gym shorts to wear. Sure, the locals were not rocking the same exact clothes, but they were also dressing for the weather. According to several shopkeepers, it was a tad unseasonably hot so there was no relief to be found in a nearby swimming pool, because 90+F isn’t worth opening the pool yet. I would NOT survive the actual summer there.
* A reference to our Australian friends staying in our hostel. Elly and George were speaking what they believed we understood as English. Between the “jut gotta grab me rucksack” and the “where’s me jumpa?”, I’m not entirely confident that I understood our entire conversation, but they were very sweet.
Our choice of transportation from BA was flying because our residency visas allow us to book the low fare of those who live in AR which was turned out to be only 20 pesos more than booking a bus that would take approximately 24 hours. To avoid tears, I decided to spend the extra $5USD. Once we checked into our quaint little hostel, we toured the city on foot, excited to experience the gaucho way of life.
First lesson, gauchos take siestas. Unlike the US and even BA, everything shuts down between 3 and 7pm. Don’t try to eat, shop or even enjoy the tourist traps. They will be opened shortly.
Second lesson, once the businesses open, get ready for a wild ride. Street markets and peñas offer a variety of options for late night entertainment. Peñas are restaurants that offer delicious parilla options and a beautiful show of playing, singing and dancing to folk music. I was surprised as to how much I truly enjoyed the festivities, but the amount of meat I consumed was no surprise because it possessed the perfect combination of seasonings, quality, and deliciousness. Argentine meat is like no other, and I will for sure have issue when I return to the US and am not met with the exquisite sensation to which my taste buds are now accustomed. It’s a problem.
Third lesson, sleep in.... Check.
We decided over breakfast at half past 12 that we should probably be productive at some point, so we set off to find info at the tourist office in town. Of course, it wasn’t opened, so we made our way to the huge mountain that rests on the edge of Salta and has draped along one side a ski-lift looking pull that I wanted to ride the minute I saw it. We boarded our compartment and were simply awestruck by the view as we effortlessly ascended the great climb. At the top, I had hoped there would be at least a small area cleared for taking the best shots of the city, but I seriously underestimated. There were vendors, photo opps, a restaurant, a mountain bike rental shop, and strangely an outdoor spinning class waiting for us at the top. Did I forget to mention the waterfalls?
I was a little confused, but definitely not complaining. We spent the entire afternoon up there just looking, listening, and taking in the view. The mountain, as it turns out, serves as a natural barrier between different parts of the city. I had no idea that Salta extended as far as it did! Making the trip up the hill was a great way to gain perspective.
The next day, we took a city bus, at the recommendation of the man selling tickets for the lift and doubling as a tourist stand worker to a small town on the outskirt of the city, Campo Quijano.
It really is in the middle of nowhere. I’m not entirely sure why this man sent us there because it was strangely quiet; there was no info booth and no clear indicator as to where the trail heads were. As it turns out there were no trail heads, but the kind woman who worked a nearby store offer us the idea of walking to the rivers. One, brown and used for damming purposes. The other, the Rio Blanca, used for swimming. We jumped at the chance to swim so we set off down a dusty road. Along this walk, I realized that in that moment, I was the most detached from the outside world that I had ever been. I don’t think my cell phone was in service, there was the occasional tractor trailer that rumbled by, but mostly it was just people walking to and from town, sitting on the side of the ride waiting for the only bus that travels in the area, and smiling at us and wishing us safe travels. It was the least touristy place that I had every been in AR. I don’t think they knew what to make of us. We were regarded with kindness and exposed to simply everyday life.
The Rio Blanca, which is actually a small babbling creek (well, crick), served as a refreshing spot to spend the afternoon. We sat on the river’s rocks and read as the sun warmed us through the clouds. We put our feet in, but only enough so as not to disturb the incredible amounts of tadpoles. Families around us sat with their babies in their laps, splashing their toes with the cool water. Toddlers balanced on the rocks standing knee-deep in the clear water, clapping with fits of excitement.
We shared in a moment that was special that day.
That night we decided to order an steak sandwich and a chicken club and switch halves, so as to have the best of both worlds. Of course, Saltenians can’t just make a sandwich, they have to bake it like an empanada. Salta is famous for its empanadas which are approximately the size of a mini-stapler. The most popular selection is carne, but I prefer the queso which nearly always comes with the added bonus of cebolla. We tried empanadas at every restaurant we visited. Also a regional and delicious dish, humita. I’m sure I’ve described it before, but the real stuff is steamed inside of a cornhusk (similar to tamales) and tastes like a scrumptious corn pudding. Available in both salty and sweet, I prefer the salty. Anyway, our sandwiches surfaced as oversized baked empanadas stuffed with everything the menu promised, including the lettuce and tomato.
Unfortunately, that was the last real meal I’ve eaten since then. It’s going on 69 hours since I’ve been able to be hungry, eat something, and keep everything inside all in one go. I’ve eaten sporadically, but not more than one, small, bland snack a day. This isn’t fun.
I haven’t a clue as to what got me sick. It wasn’t the food, and it wasn’t the water. My travel buddy, Kristin, ate and drank more or less exactly what I ate all week including the last empanada/sandwich that we actually split in half and she’s peachy keen. I just don’t have luck traveling in the north of AR.
So, I spent the following day writhing in pain in my lumpy hostel bed, unable to find the energy to drink anything. I wish I was being dramatic. More than anything, I felt terrible that I destroyed our plans to catch a 7am bus to the Cafayate and spend the day in a highly recommended area. Kristin was very kind and supportive and told me not to worry about not being able to go. Luckily, she found some friendly faces and shops to explore in the city and was able to venture to the artesian mercado, a large area filled with handmade goods. She brought me crackers and Sprite. I owe her so much!
On our last day, we went to MAAM, a museum of archaeology in town that is now home to some of the best preserved mummies. Incan civilization believed in making sacrifices so as to have a better harvest for the whole, and so as to maintain their safety in general as a society. As a part of this thinking 5 centuries ago, the people living in what is currently referred to as the province of Salta selected 3 children under the age of 15 that were among the physical and social elite to parade around to the surrounding villages so that they could accept many gifts of food and goods. After their long journey, they were escorted up a mountain and given an elixir made from corn that caused them to fall into a deep, drugged sleep. Then, they were buried in the mountaintop among many grave goods as an offering.
Because the mountain is located in a position where is is consistently below freezing and the amount of oxygen that breached their graves was minimal, the bodies of these 3 individuals are in pristine condition considering that they’ve been buried around 500 years. Constanza Ceruti and Johan Reinhard, anthropologists from Argentina and the US respectively, led a expedition to excavate the bodies in the 80’s. On display in Museo de Arqueología de Alta Montaña now is “La niña del rayo”, the girl who was struck by lightening. She gained this nickname long after her demise when a lightening bolt struck the mountain near her burial and burned her lower face and neck.
Seeing her, being so close to her was both exciting and horrifying. On one hand, I can appreciate the immense workload of the anthropologist and the others who were on the expedition, but on the other, I can’t help but to think that she should remain in the mountain. The Incas did not sacrifice children with the intention of having them be disturbed from their slumber after a period of time. Who are we to decide where they remain?
Also, it was quite clear, despite obvious shrinkage from dehydration, that the figure in front of my face was a child, a small 6-year-old who because of her nobel status (apparent because of her altered skull growth) was denied the chance to live a longer life. It was a different time, and today’s society is not prepared to fathom such ideologies, but I was glad to have had the opportunity to see in person such stunning remains.
On the way out of the museum, we ran into a guy that was eager to practice his English and invited us for a coffee in the museum’s cafe. I didn’t realize that accepting his offer was going to make our last hours in Salta fly by! He was a really nice guy with many interesting opinions about this and that. We’ll remain facebook friends for some time.
Naturally, our flight was delayed back to BA, so we were not only early by Argentine standards, but really early. When we arrived, our company hadn’t even opened check-in for the flight that was due to take off in less than 2 hours. Security laughed at us when we wanted to sit near our gate with under 45 minutes until boarding. It’s a different world here.
Regardless, I made it home safely and by 2-3am (thanks to the delays), I was snuggly in my homestay bed.
Tomorrow’s it. That’s when I leave. I am in desperate need of repacking, but something tells me everything will work out.
This experience has been life changing. And that’s not some study abroad website mumbo jumbo. That’s actually what it has been. Hopefully, you caught the even the tiniest glimpse of what I’ve seen and experienced through my posts and pictures.
Thank you for your attention, your support and best of luck in your travels. May you find the opportunity to experience the world.
All the best and a huge beso,
Rachel
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