Contrast

I am far from alone in South America. Some of the people I am travelling with have their own blogs. Sarah´s blog can found here (Note to Bolivia) and our friend Lauren´s blog can be found here (LB in BA).


As previously mentioned on this blog, photos of places we have been can be found here.

We make it to Boliva

Travelling North

On 12 December 2009 we return to Cordoba to get ourselves up to Bolivia (via Jujuy). It has almost been one month in South America (or month since I finished work) and we were finally getting near our core destination. Before leaving we had to wait about one hour as the bus we were taking had engine problems. The Argentines were once again great role-models: no one cared less about the delay and just chilled out while the mechanic fixed la problema. No one even asked what the delay was or queried a new ETD. On the bus we watched Control with Defoe and Liota. Not a great film but did the trick in terms of distracting us/helping us get to sleep.

Days in Jujuy and Border Crossing

When we arrived in Jujuy I insisted that we take the Lonely Planet recommended hostel., The place is without modcons and Sarah is not convinced this is the place for us. Too bad. We stay and have a relaxing couple of days checking out the Police Museum, Archaeology Museum and CulturaArtes. The Police Museum takes the cake out of all off these as it has a really fascinating, strangley macarbe, collection of Police Chief photo-potraits. The collection must span about 50 plus years. Very haunting. Even more spectacular was the photo collection housed in the upstairs R-16 section. That collection of photos displayed hangings, dead drunks, murders, et al. I have never been one to seek out snuff images online so maybe I am a little naive in regards to this kind of images. It was pretty offensive and at the same time I had to look at them all.

In the evenings we take the time to cook our own meals and I finish When Gravity Fails. If your want a book with a strong anti-hero then this is the one. My favourite memory from Jujuy is taking a shower in the upstairs bathroom. From the shower you can look out a large window over the roof tops of the city. Having a hot shower and staring out at such a sight, with their monumental Church towering over the other buildings was a neat spectacle.


La Quiaca, Villazon and trip to Tarija


We leave Jujuy on 15 December 2009 after having breakfast at a vegetarian place called Tierra Madre. Lucky Sarah insisted on eating breakfast becuase this turned into a long day. The border crossing in La Quiaca was easy but took a long time. Once in Villazon we both felt very fatigued and then found out that buses only leave at 20:00 which means we will arrive in our planned destination (Tarija) at 03:30.

After we eat some pizza and drink two litres of coke at a place called Snack Resteruant Oriental (which was about as oriental as Georgie Pie) we both start to feel a bit better. We bit the bullet and get our tickets and then kill about five hours waiting to depart.

The waiting turns out to be a lot of fun. The bus terminal in Villazon is circus in the best possible way. Upstairs there is a ad-hoc childrens boxing gym. The lady who we buy tickets from is an absolute sweetheart (and which we are thankful for in our weary states). While loitering across the road, waiting for our ride, we observe a lady hand making salteña (a dough pocket similar to an empanada) and she is making a killing. A mixed group of Spanish speaking guys, two with perfect English, approach us for some help. They are having a great time and are full of life shaking our hands and laughing in between personal, light-hearted innuendo. We are unable to help them but their engery is most welcome. Later a drunk guy comes up to us and kisses Sarah´s hand half a dozen times and gives me a massive hug and several handshakes. He returns later but thankfully our bus finally arrives at that time. Before getting on the bus I go to use the bathroom. On my return a derelict is dancing and stomping his feet singing loudly and cheerfully to Sarah (in order to illicit a tip). He is very animated and despite his appearance Sarah takes the whole performance in her stride.

After all this (a long day travelling) we finally ge ton a bus that takes us to Tarija. Our taxi driver is a helpful guy but the Hostal which I insist (again) we take is terrible and overpriced. We leave there first thing in the morning, feel very average, and move to Hostal Miraflores.

A Couple of Days in Tarija

Sarah and I stay in Tarija until 20 December 2009. We spend an excellent week working on our budgetting, spanish, watching MGM movies (the most horrendous being Sleeping with the Devil with Shannen Doherty; I love this film). We check out the palaeontology museum and work on catching up with freinds, family and blog.

On Satruday night Cheetah and I go on a date and drink a bottle of wine. It is the first time I have had alcohol in Bolivia since leaving Argentina. We have a great time talking about our plans for the year and reflecting on where we are at. We are finally in Bolivia, just like we always planned. To say this is a dream fulfilled is a heavy handed statement, but to bad, becasue that is exactly what it is.

Before dinner we walk past an inner city basketball court and there is under 17 teams playing. We sneak in and watch one and a half games. Number 8, surname Choco, is our favourite player but his team finds a world of hurt with a 50 point ass-whupping.

Tarija appears to be quite wealthy. The plaza is very nice, very well maintained. There is begging (often a whole family, sans Dad) in the streets which I found very confronting (to state the obvious). I cannot really comment on this at the time; I am sure the homelessness in Tarija is moderate in comparison to other parts of Bolivia. When it comes to writing about poverty I will be taking my time.

Next stop Sucre; freinds and family.

Rendezvous with Jim and LB

Wild Stallions in Cordoba

Sarah and I arrive in Cordoba on 04 December 2009 after a fairly painless two-bus trip. We arrive in the AM and the hostel dude is nice enough to let us in early to our room. This is a big relief as we are really keen for a hot shower and some quiet time, away from the hustle of travelling and negotiating a new city. The morning is spent relaxing before heading out onto the street. The people of Cordoba are very friendly and patient to us and I would have to say that if anyone wanted a big city to stay in to learn Spanish this would be the one.

In the evening Jim and LB arrive and we head out to have Middle Eastern for dinner. There is a wait for the table so we go next door to a bar for beer. On the walls there are paintings of horses – some as portraits and some as stallions raging through a river – which are, unintentionally, homoerotic and completely awesome.

The following day is a busy one where we hit a couple of museums. The first one is a natural science one which I cannot recall the name of for the life of me. This place was pretty fun and was the first place that made me realize how important anthropology and palaeontology are to South America, as a generalisation.

The second museum we went to was Palacio Ferreyra. This was a solidly compiled selection of Argentinean art that spanned the last 100 years, give or take. It was really nice to be back in a gallery looking at painting with no rush to be somewhere else. My find of the trip was an artist called Francisco Fader, but now I Google him I see that no such person exists. Something for me to get the bottom of later, I guess…

During the day we also went for coffee and decided to sit inside which is a fairly uncommon choice for us. While we were sipping away a massive squall came though in the street adjacent to us sending leaves and rubbish up in the air and pushing the smaller trees to a 45 degree angle. It was really remarkable and seemed to come from nowhere. It is things like this that make you realize that the conditions work in a very different way when you are on a continent as big as SA.

In the evening we teach LB and Jim the dice game and have a few beverages. Jim wins well. Later we head to town to see some very mediocre jazz (there is a jazz festival on in the city) which is played out the front of a mall. The mall is new but uses an old colonial for its façade, basically an abomination. The coolest part of this scene is seeing the young Latin American Goths hanging out the front of the mall. The full spectrum is represented here, from the obese guy with a trench coat all the way through to the newly beginner Goth who is now wearing all black but is making the pleasing gaffe of wearing a t-shirt with a “Rip Curl” on it. Rad.

Mina Clavero

The umpteenth bus trip and we are now in Mina Clavero. The journey is very unique this time and there are moments when I get glimpses of what Scotland might be like.

When we arrive Jim and I sit in a bus bar which is humble but clean and austere. The lady who serves us is curt but efficient, the locals at the front talk loudly but do not jeer us. We drink beer and play coin rugby, I cannot even recall who won this epic battle but it should be recorded. For now I will say it was me as I do not have any lingering pangs of loss. We drink beer while LB and Sarah go and find a beautiful place to stay. Jim and I joke about how we would never do such a thing (i.e. we would not investigate, just take the first place we found) but then concede that they will probably come back with a great find. Our better judgement serves us right and the girls land us a place that is more or less a cabana with a kitchenette, grassed and garden courtyard, TV and pool; all this for the price of what it would be to stay at a hostel. The place called Los Angeles.

The Week

The week is spent playing dice game in the evenings and doing mini trips in during day. Jim seems to win every other game of dice, and we play a lot. I complete 100 Years of Solitude and begin reading When Gravity Fails. This is a book that I have been obsessed about reading for over a decade. Many moons ago I played a game called Mines of Titan obsessively. The same maker also made another game called Circuits Edge which was developed from When Gravity Fails. Based on the cover of that game alone I have always longed to read it. Childhood dream #34 fulfilled.


The rest of this week is spent attempting to see condors, visiting a massive collection of curiosities, Museo of Rocsen, created by a man you are never told enough about, somehow watching 27 Wedding Dresses for the second time while in SA, drinking Quilmes and going swimming.




Journey to Quebrada del Condorito


One of the attractions in Mina Clavero is the condors. The day we go it is overcast but we do not think anything of it. It has been hot for the last four weeks so I do not think anything of wearing anything other than a t-shirt. When we arrive at the park we are literally in cloud and the visibility is very poor (10-20 meters at a guess). Nonetheless we have a great day looking at birds that are not condors and getting out in nature for a change. The cloud never cleared while we were out here and we never saw a condor. Something to come back for perhaps.


During our trip we come to a sign that instructs us to keep to the track and not to mess with the surrounding habititat to avoid being mauled by a puma or bitten by a snake. It is refreshing to be in a place where there are animals other than birds (as in NZ) about the place. We do not encounter any puma or snake while on our hike.


Swimming


The stand out activity for the week is swimming. At the cabana it was nice to swim in the pool, playing puerile diving games with Jim, but it was the river that ran through Mina Clavero that really made the place. I lack the vocabulary to describe the amazing rock formations that have led to the formation of this river but I can tell you that this is the place that you dream of hanging out in when you are a kid. On our first day we made a new freind: a dog we named Spike. Whether he was stray or not we could never figure out (likely), he did not have tags on him, but he had a great nature. While we were walking along the rocks looking for an appropriate place to swim Spike wandered into some bushes which LB also approached. Therein he located a snake. Spike was our protector from then on. Sarah did not enjoy this encounter and was not happy about walking past or through bushes thereafter. We saw no more snakes that week.

We returned to the river again later in the week. The first trip we made was nice but we kept it conservative in terms of our exploration. Now back again Jim and I were keen to step it up (James had actually been back subsequently and found a spot were the local youths hung out and he recommended it highly). This afternoon turns out to be a crazy one, firstly because Spike turns up out of the blue and secondly because there is a small rapid next to the pool that James brings us too.


Once we arrive we cautiously look around the pool and wonder how to get to the far side in order to jump off the choice-looking rocks. Spike, possibly bored, decides he should check it out first and jumps into the water right next to the rapid. As he does he starts to get sucked-in by the pull of the water and we see his four legs working like mad to get back up stream. I start to get my stuff off to assist our friend but before anyone knows it Jim is in the water trying to rescue him fully clothed towel and all. A few seconds after entering the water Jim has a reflection on the decision and says "what am I even doing out here?" A brief moment later the two are washed down the rapid. We all have a mini-panic and I get front row seat to the sight of Jim with his arms wrapped around Spike looking stoic, though alarmed, going backwards down the rapid. It is all over very quickly and both are OK though there is some mild shock and Spike is afraid to go back in the water thereafter.

The flipside to this mini-catastrophe is that I have observed the strength of the flow of water. I end up travelling back floating down the river head first (doggy-paddle); scampering over rocks to avoid the dangerous parts. I have a boyish grin on my face the whole way. It is just me, my togs, the amazing rock formations and the river.

This all happens on our last full day together. In the evening we drink Quilmes, talk cheesy and big as we have a tendency to do and play the dice game which Jim monotonously wins again.

Out of BA

Hanging out with Hester and Rachel in the North


So Sarah, Hester Rachel and I made it out of BA on 24 November 2009 and headed straight for Iquazu Falls. When we arrived it was appropriately humid with no pool or cool water in sight. The bus trip to this town was excellent. I have to say that the buses in this part of the world are exceptional. Historically I have found such a journey (eighteen hours overland) horrific in the extreme but with the service that is provided, this type of journey is most enjoyable. When we left BA there were simply miles and miles of flat terrian that was some of the most boring, unintersting landscape I have ever scene. Having said that I was in no mood for sights anyway and spent many, many hours just staring at the back of my seat or out the window not paying much attention to anything; it was a liberating feeling. At some point I started reading 100 Years of Solitude, borrowed from Hester, despite having seven other books to read. I could not put down this book.

Iquazu Falls


Iquazu Falls was fun to visit. I really enjoyed watching the swallows, that are everywhere in this park, swoop down through the air currents created by the falls. At times they would come preposterously close to the falling water and it was a fascinating juxtapostion seeing something so small playing in something so vast and powerful.

While standing on one of the viewing platforms I gave out an involuntary "whoooo-hooo" which I did not know what to make of. This was to be the first of two for the week. In this instance the platform was just below a part of the fall that made it feel like the unfathamable tons of water were going to come crashing down on you, not unlike the thrill of a roller coaster. While walking around this park every other person seems to be smoking inbetween taking hundreds of photos of everything. This place is like a theme park that just happened to be a natural wonder at one point in time. To get around the park you can ride a faux-train making it feel as though you are at Knott´s Berry. I hate to think how many photos on the internet exist of the falls. I´d go google something to investigate that but writing in an internet cafe is surprisingly annoying so I will leave it to imagination. Too many, I am sure.

Salta

After the falls we went overland again (twenty-four plus hours this time) to Salta. This town ended up being alot bigger than any of us expected but despite this it was a mellow place in contrast to the timbre of BA. When we arrived we checked in at the chepest hostel we could find then went to the town square (every town in Argentina has a town square). When we sat down to have coffee a big band was playing in a near by gazebo and the sun was coming through the trees. It was a conspicoulsy nice scene and it felt god to relax.



Salta ended up being a mixed bag of site seeing (Gondala, Colonial buildings) and partying. When we arrived to the hostel it was about 01.00AM and the girls all decided they needed to go through their bags, have showers, find some inconsequnetial item or ask about something that could have waited until the morning. All through this scene there was this dude in the dorm who was trying to sleep. I guess I felt a bit embarrased by this performance as it seemed to go on forever. In any instance we wake up in the morning and have some basic interaction with him. He comes across as overly polite and apologises for his bag on the floor being in the way (!), even though it is not. It is an absurd response to our own bad manners the night before. Making a long story short, Will, turns out to to be a really nice guy who we drink beer and watch the AB v. France game with. He is going back to Bristol to be with his girlfriend and pursue a career in animation in a week.

Following the game the hostel manager took us all out on an impromptu bar tour. We see live music - a cheesy dub-rock-reggae band - which we all have a great time dancing to. Sarah, Will and I get home around 4AM. Hester and Rachel show real steel and see the new day in with some fellow backpackers and shots of gin left over form the previous night.

Cafayate

On 30 November 2009 we all traveled to the town of Cafayate. This place is exactly what we expected Salta to be like. It is a small town with a modicum new buildings, plenty of old, and some dusty roads. It also underscored that dogs do indeed roam the streets everywhere in the north of Argentina. A bonus in this town is that there are donkeys strolling around from time to time and the vineyards make for a nice foreground against the vast Andes behind them.

On the first night we choose to stay in a poorly maintained campsite. The lodging we chose was a cabin the size of a sardine can. The night was a difficult one that drove both Sarah and Hester around the bend. On the plus side the cabin only cost 10 peso each; strangely I am the only person who thought the price made it worthwhile. In the morning we leave immediately and find a really clean place that serves an excellent breakfast in a sunny courtyard.

Further Proof that Watching Karate Kid All My Life Was a Good Idea

So following the terrible sleep we hire bikes, jump on a bus and head out to the desert to look at some canyons, dirt, standard tourist stops (e.g. Garganta del Diablo) and then ride 50KM back into town. Red rocks and vivid green plants. Once out here I challenge anyone to find this landscape anything other than spectacular and sempiternal. In fact I just read a line in Earth Abides that sums it all up, but I will comment on that another time.

So photos get taken and we bust out on the bikes. Setting off on the bike feels great. Being in such a place feeling the wind in your face with the blue sky overhead cannot be beaten. It inspires the kid in me and for the second time I involuntarily let out a "wooooo-whoooo." It is delivered without irony. And is a very simple moment I will cherish in the future, no doubt.

So as it turns out 50KM on a bike is a long way in the sun, in the desert. We did a fairly good job of being prepared. We had water, food, a general plan for stops and getting through it and despite the previous nights sleeping problems we are all in fine fettle. With no words of advice from the people we rented the bikes from we genuinely thought we were set.

Problems encountered were fairly long hill climbs (though to be honest not very steep), Rachael not feeling confident in her fitness, me sweating - like I sweat when I exercise - compounded with the heat of the desert sun, Sarah getting a sting from some unknown bug that freaks her out, having entirely not enough water and Hester getting a flat tire. In terms of the latter I managed to fix that for her/us; a rare moment for me to do some archetypal guy stuff that I can actually do without stress.

By 40KM Rachael has left (wisely hitched a lift back to town), there is no water in sight, and we are at our limits psychically and mentally. Hester is swearing like she has been at sea for two years, Sarah is slipping into her marathon running mode and I am chanting to myself quixotic self-help type things and visualizing Daniel Laruso doing his thing. Somehow we make it back to Cafayate and are all in a mild state of shock and - as the cliche goes - do not know weather to laugh or cry. When we eventually peddle back to the hostel Sarah and Hester have a little cry out-of-relief. Eventually I start to feel very excited, but keep it to myself given the emotion of the situation and because in normal circumstances Hester would probably stab me with what ever was close at hand. It was a real thrill being taken to the limit like that and it is always interesting to find out how you cope. In the final analysis we all did amazingly and I was very proud of Rachel, Hester and Sarah.

And the Rest

The rest of the time we took it easy. We ran into an American guy we met a few days earlier and lunched, did a vineyard briefly and had asado later that night. During the dinner we met some Germans and an American who was fluent in German leaving him with a really striking accent that you could not quite put your finger on. They taught us how to pay Truco which was challenging as we had to play using Spanish words, the cards are different to a standard playing pack and the ranking of cards is not ordinal or by suit. The day after it was time to go, Hester and Rachel off on there own path and Sarah and myself on ours.