Week 8: The Four Musketeers

Put "Salta Argentina" into Google Images and you will be presented with a myriad of lovely pictures from multi-coloured mountains to rolling hills littered with cacti. This, my friend, is not the case when it comes to city of Salta. The province however, some 155 thousand square kilometres, is lovely. We did stay in a nice hostel though, the "Ferienhaus," which was quite central and close to the main square, which was very reminiscent of colonial times and home to an extremely elaborate, gold-gilted catholic cathedral. (A concept I will never understand.)

Eefje, Jen and I at the mountain of seven colours in Pumamarca

 In the evening of our arrival, after having a "banana split" - comprised of a bowl of fruit salad, ice cream, and soggy bits of crepe, we headed back to the hostel for what we feared may be our one last asado, basically a meat feast of a barbeque with  a few token tomatoes. The evening escalated rather quickly as the wine flowed freely and we filled ourselves with the delicious food. Edgar, Eefje and myself personally took a trip to the store in search of more quality beverages. We headed out around 0300 to a small bar/club, which may or may not have been full of transvestites. I had the best dance since leaving the UK, led by a canadian guy who had been dancing the two-step for a number of year. After a very late bedtime we awoke in the morning to a chocolate milkshake and scrambled eggs courtesy of Edgar. We then headed out to take a walk in San Lorenzo as a group of 5, however none of us really had much energy we enjoyed the lush green landscape. On our return to the hostel we met Jenny, who had taken the bus the following day, and we hatched a plan to leave Salta.

The following morning was an early start as we took a bust at 0700 to Jujuy, where I bought 2 tickets to Pumamarca. (Shortly before boarding the bus I discovered a hole in my pocket and a missing ticket.) This was the location of the seven-coloured mountain. Already we felt as if we were in a different country to the rest of Argentina. There were more small and dusty villages, more stalls and markets rather than shops, transport and food was getting cheaper and it started to feel more as if we were really beginning our travels, as we left the more westernised areas of South America. After a few enjoyable hours (and one horrible incident involving the death of a wide angle lens) we took the bus to Humahuaca, where we intended to connect to La Quiaca, at the border with Bolivia. We missed the last bus by twenty minutes, however this turned out to be a blessing in disguise as Humahuaca was a real gem and a little more off the beaten track. We found what appeared to be a lovely, quiet and personal hostel, where we met a couple cycling from Peru to the southern tip of Argentina. We had a ghreat walk around town and some street food before heading to bed. Then disaster struck. But only for me.

Panorama from the hill in Humahuaca

Those who have ever been on holiday with me or to anywhere with serious bugs and insects will know that I am a total magnet for them. I woke up in the morning absolutely covered in bedbug bites. (We later did a count and it came to over 100). Nobody else had them and it took all of my self restraint over the next few days not to scratch a single one. Fortunately, after bagging up my PJs and the clothes I had put on that morning, they didn't spread. We then took the first bus to Iruya, a small town nestled in the hills, a 3 hour, but only 66km drive from Humahuaca. I can safely say that this was the most terrifying bus journey I have had so far. We drove up to 4,000m the highest I had been so far, and then descended again. I nodded off to sleep and when I woke up we were driving down the moutain side around hair-pin bends with a learner driver, and visibility of approximately 25m. We eventually arrived safely in Iruya and found a little Hospedaje (homestay) where the shower had to be filled and heated. This proved to be a real challenge for some of us: Eefje overfilled the tank as she couldn't tell the difference between left and right, flooding the bathroom and shouting "Claire! Help! Don't ever leave me!" However she was not the only one to embarass herself as the husband of the homestay locked himself in one of the bedrooms for over half an hour trying to install a new door handle. We went for a walk in and around the town, which was in a really breathtaking setting. Florencia, with whom I stayed in Buenos Aires, had messaged me advising me to go.

Iruya

We left the following afternoon and after getting dropped off on the side of the road managed to get another bus to the border, where we stayed in Yavi for a night, a town of about 400 inhabitants. After a real struggle we managed to find dinner, however we also picked up our most persistant canine companion so far. She literally would not leave us alone. We shut her out of our homestay, but she managed to open the locked door and came in. Eventually the owner bolted the door and we all managed to get to bed. In the morning we went for an absolutely beautiful walk in the canyon nearby where we saw a few chinchillas, some goats, cows, and one hourse. Of course our doggy friend also accompanied us. In the afternoon we headed to La Quiaca, the border town, where we hoped to cross the border to Bolivia. Alas, it was not to be. There were protests at the border so after a while we made the deciusion to stay the night in the town. (Where there was absolutely nothing going on, and the internet was down in the whole town). We managed to amuse ourselves with some card games and then headed to bed. Jen and I shared and Edgar and Eefje each had their own beds. (I try not to think about what the former function of the room may or may not have been.)

Jen and her trusty followers in the lush canyons around Yavi

The next day we packed up our belongings and once again headed for the border. There was a lot of tension. Although the children were allowed through on the Bolivian side, some men started a protest marching towards the border. After an hour or so there was a sudden rush as we were told we could cross the border. We quickly got our entry and exit stamps and rushed to the border. However there was still a blockade so we sat and waited. Jen really really needed the toilet so I accompanied her on an illegal crossing back into Argentina to use the toilet. The timing could not have been better, as we returned they were just opening the blockade. We grabbed our bags and went through. Once in Villazon, the Bolivian border town, we took a bus to Tupiza, where we planned to begin the tour of the Salt Flats and National Park. All in all, an eventful week and it is actually starting to feel like travelling and less like a really long holiday.

Week 7: No Pictures

 Disclaimer: None of the picture's in this week's blog belong to me. I am typing it from an internet café in Bolivia and I can barely log in to my emails, let alone upload pictures from my camera. Do your best to enjoy those I found on google images. I know they don't have my face in them but they will have to do.

Despite everyone promsing us a truly charmng town, we found Valparaíso just a little too rough around the edges and not quite living up to the hype. This probably wasn't helped by the fact that there had alrady been a 2 week strike by civil servants and therefore no rubbish collection. During our 2 day stay we visited one of the houses of poet Pablo Neruda, took a bat trip in the bay and also had a walking tour, we managed to find the first "real" pizza since entering South America (i.e. a reasonable ratio of pizza base to toppings) and indulged ourselves with some delicious ice cream.

The colourful town of Valparaíso - a UNESCO World Heritage Site

On the final morning we left for Santiago, a 2hr bus journey away, where we had 24 fun-packed hours. We visited the Museo de la memoria, about those who went missing during the rule of Pinochet. I found this oarticulary interesting as in school in the UK we seem to spend all of our childhood and adolescence studying European history (primarily Germany and the two World Wars) and shamefully I knew practically nothing about Chilean history, distant or recent, until I arrived in South America. (Read more about it here) Most of the museum was in Spanish, however, and the effort of reading it made me feel as if my head was going to explode, but did reassure me that my skills are improving. Later in the evening we visited Cerro Santa Lucia in the centre of the city, which appeared to be a sort of zoo or exhibition of smooching couples (much to our distaste.) However it gave us some stunning views with the contrast of city and mountains.

How the pictures from my camera probably look: the view from Cerro Santa Lucia (I suppose)

In the evening we asked the hostel receptionist where the nearest supermarket was, bought some groceies and then decided on the walk back to eat out instad. We had a delicious curry in a hindu restaurant. On our return we asked where a good bar was... then decided to stay in and watch 10 Things I Hate About You instead. Swings and roundabouts.
We took a day bus to Mendoza, once again crossing the border into Argentina. At customs I had a conversation in Spanish with another passenger. (Where are you from? How long have you been travelling? Where did you learn Spanish?) He told me my spanish was very good indeed. Not surprising that he should think so given that I seem to have that very same conversation time and again.


In Mendoza we had a slightly less frantic few days, chillling out and reading on the first day. I have read a number of books I wouldn't usually choose since having my e-reader stolen. In Valparaíso I bought an old copy of The Poseidon Adventure for less than 1GBP. I don't recall too well the most recent film but if you cast your mind back to the original, I am sure it prompts thoughts of adventure, meaningful self-sacrifice and personal epiphany. The book upon which the film is based could not be more different. Although the general storyline is the same (ship capsizes... people try to escape) the attitude of the book is something else completly. I highly recommend that you read it - and although I don't want to ruin it for you, prepare yourself for the worst.

Apparently it is sunny in Mendoza 300 days a year. Unfortunately the next day was not one of them. Eefje and I were both in a bit of a funny mood so we decided to go to the cinema to see Woody Allen's latest film "Blue Jazmine." In the taxi on the way I said "imagine always having to watch a film with subtitles at the cinema all the time" and on the way back my dutch friend said to me "that was strange, they didn't have a break in the middle." We both looked at each other strangely.

The next day was lovely and sunny and it was time for the main event, We took the bus to Maipú where we hired bicycles and did a tour around some of the many wineyards in the area. The region of Mendoza produces 80% of Argentina´s wine. We were careful not to get too squiffy and stopped for empanadas  at a beer garden and for chocolate at the end.

A slightly cloudier day than we had but a spectacular view nonetheless

In the evening we had a surprise guest join us for dinner - my scottish friend Jen who I had met 5 weeks erlier and travelled with. We seem destined to never really part ways.

The following evening after a day of window shopping (the clothes were more expensive than at home - oh, H&M, how I miss you!) Eefje and I took the bus from Mendoza to Salta. At the bus station in Mendoza we bumped into Edgar, who we had first met in Bariloche and then Pucón. He, too, was on our bus to Salta. As I head further north it is starting to feel like I am really travelling and not simply on some sort of elaborate and lengthy holiday. I can't wait for what new destinations will bring.

Week 6: Ascent

It has been a week of climbing: one mountain, one volcano and one really big hill. I left El Bolson, Argentina, the afternoon after I had arrived. It seemed that every other inhabitant was sporting dreadlocks, but apart from that there was very little to see. While there however I met a dutch girl called Eefje, who calls herself Eve while she is travelling, in a similar fashion to the way I call myself "Clara" if nobody can pronounce my name. We headed together to Bariloche, a few hours north of El Bolson, and went to a hostel together. (I have found that attaching yourself to someone with a hostel reservation is a pretty smart idea.) In the following few days we went kayaking and climbed a few large hills whilst we were hiking.

Top of a large hill

Worth it for the view
at the bottom

 The excitement of the evenings fluctuated - I was informed that one night "will be remembered forever" and another night we sat in watching 10 Things I Hate About You and eating crisps. We bought our bus tickets to Mendoza, some 20 hours north and the region where 80% of Argentina's wine production comes from. However on discovering that it was somehow, bizarelly, "Oktoberfest" (yes, in Argentina and yes, in November) we changed our plans last minute and headed to Pucon in Chile.

After my emotional separation from Jen the week before, I was slightly doubtful about going, however we joined them in the hostel for our second halloween party in as many days. We went to a local club where we really started the festivities and our amazing dancing attracted everyone. The following day we felt a little worse for wear and so decided to head to Salto el Claro, a nearby waterfall which our taxi driver, and a sign at the entrance to the trail warned us was "very dangerous." Although a little tricky, I think a more appropriate sign would have been "not really suitable for your great-grandma." This, in fact, did involve another climb to get back up from the waterfall.


The following day Jen, Maddie and Douggie started on their journey back to Buenos Aires, while Eefje and I prepared ourselves for Volcano Villaricca. It was more of a matter of stamina over speed. The total ascent of the day was over 1400 metres up to a summit of 2,860 metres, but it was more of a slow, steady and careful trudge than anything else. As we approached the summit, an unpleasant whiff of sulphur welcomed us, however it was all worth it for the view when we reached the top. There was no lavatory, as you can imagine, however this was the viewpoint from ours:

Top of a large volcano

"But how did you get down?!" I hear you cry. Did we trudge back down? Did we get a chairlift? Did we just tumble? Actually, that one is pretty close. But no, we slid down. On our bottoms. 5 hours to get up, one hour to slide down. Incredible fun until someone slow in front of you spoils your fun.

The following day, before our bus to Valparaiso, 12 hours north of Pucon, we visited the national park. If anything, I would actually say that this walk was harder. I am not sure of the total elevation, but I certainly felt more exhausted once I reached the top. We rewarded oursevles with a well-earned nature swim in one of the lakes at the top.

Midway up a medium sized mountain

It seemed so strange that we could see the volcano from the town and also on our walk - crazy to think that we had been all the way to the top! I'm enjoying being back in Chile and it seems to me that there is much more of a feeling of community here than there was in Argentina. I am still travelling with Eefje at the moment and we aredeciding whether or not to go to Santiago for a day before finally heading to Mendoza and a big dose of Vineyards.

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Week 5: It All Began With A Bowl Of Chips

I redrafted the opening paragraph of this entry a couple of times. Each time it still began with "and I think it is fair to say it ended with..." however the events of the week just kept on going. I think I can finally now say that the week ended with me accidentally throwing my camera charger away with my rubbish at the border to Argentina. I had only had 2 hours sleep and was in a bit of emotional turmoil having said goodbye to Jen after 3 weeks of travelling together. I was still a little "in my cups" as they say but I think that is rather beside the point.

A great view of the volcano "Osorno" on our bike trip

We had what I can only describe as the most indulgent week. We treated ourselves to a flight to avoid a 30 hour bus journey with 2 border crossings; the night we arrived in Puerto Varas we treated ourselves to wine and mojitos in the bar around the corner from the hostel (where we were given a free bowl of chips by an admirer of Jen's - which started the whole chain of events), and on Tuesday we splashed out on a spa day with massage, followed by what began as "just one hot chocolate" and ended with salsa and going to bed when it was getting light.

Look how happy I am!

Ready for our spa day

In the next few days we did a beautiful day trek in the (FREE!) National Park, went for a 32km bike ride, and then called to get a lift home because we were feeling a little under the weather from the night before, and it really was quite hilly. On our final night we went to a concert to raise money for an operation for one of the hostel owner's friends, and then went out till the early hours. Much to our annoyance, the club rudely shut at 5am, and despite my best efforts to stay awake I had to go to bed and only just caught my bus - sleeping through 5 alarms and only waking when Jen started shaking me.

A note on the river rafting for the Navy buffs. If you haven't already heard on the grapevine... I bumped into Commodore Portsmouth Flotilla with his wife and children. He was as one would expect (we did start to refer to him just as "the commodore" although my friends kept getting confused and calling him "the commander" best not mention it) although not quite to the eccentric reaches of Commodore Miller. His children however were very charming and I recieved best wishes from all the family for my AIB when the time eventually comes.

My Dad advised me not to rush around too much on my travels, as quite often you see so much more by staying still, and the last week proved this to be very much the case. We mingled often with the locals and got to know the town and surrounding area very well. Rather than just seeing the sights we also learnt something about the community and customs. Sadly, the time did come to move on and after a pretty horrendous bus journey - which was probably worse for the people sitting near to me - I arrived back in Argentina.