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.