The bus to Salta from Buenos Aires is 22 hours. Meredith and I met up with our friend Samm around 4 in the afternoon to head to the bus station, fully equipped with several bottles of wine and the most comfortable clothes we have. The 5 o'clock bus was sold out, but we got tickets for one a few hours later. What to do in a bus station with three hours to kill? Find the bar and play some cards. As buses are a huge method of transportation here, long rides aren't nearly as miserable as they could be. The chairs are similar to La-Z-Boys, you get several not-dog-food-quality meals, and if you don't have an iPod or any other form of entertainment (such as two half-drunk girlfriends to tell ghost stories with) they usually show a few movies.
We arrived in Salta the next afternoon and met up with our friends Damien and Ashley, who'd gotten there the day before us. Damien had rented a car so we could travel to other cities in the province - best idea ever. There's just so much to see in the province that the car was crucial. It was INCREDIBLE.
We only spent about 15 minutes in the city of Salta before heading north because we wanted to get to Purmamarca before sundown. The drive was about 2 hours and quite the eye-opening experience. There were times when we were driving in the middle of nowhere and there would be a shanty little house sitting at the base of a mountain. Nothing, nothing, nothing - BOOM - house. We found ourselves repeatedly asking, "People LIVE here? HOW?" No electricity, no heat in the freezing northern weather, no running water. There wasn't even a store for at least an hour's drive... and there certainly wasn't a Ford Focus sitting in the driveway.
Passing through Jujuy, one of the bigger cities in Salta.
Because we took the scenic route to Purmamarca, we arrived later than we'd expected, so after some llama empanadas for dinner (yeah, llama), we called it an early night. The next morning, we had a quick breakfast and headed out in search of the famous 7-colored mountain. After wandering around a mountain range, examining some cacti up close, and getting excessively winded from a relatively short hike (it was the altitude, I swear), we found the 7-colored mountain. We took some epic pictures and appreciated the sights for a while before heading back to the car to drive to the salt flats - which are about an hour outside of Purmamarca.
Purmamarca.
All of us at the Purmamarca market. You can see part of the 7-colored mountain behind us.
The 7-colored mountain.
The salt flats are unlike anything I've ever seen before. The ground looks like ice and sounds like packed snow when you walk on it. For as far as you can see everything is blindingly white. The day was cool, clear and absolutely gorgeous. A perfect day for a dance party and some picture-taking in the saltiest place on Earth. We were all surprised to find that the ground was painful to the touch. I don't know why I was stupidly imagining the flats to be made up of granulated salt, but that is definitely not the case. After a few cartwheels my hands were about to start bleeding. Painful. Gorgeous, but painful.
The salt flats are unlike anything I've ever seen before. The ground looks like ice and sounds like packed snow when you walk on it. For as far as you can see everything is blindingly white. The day was cool, clear and absolutely gorgeous. A perfect day for a dance party and some picture-taking in the saltiest place on Earth. We were all surprised to find that the ground was painful to the touch. I don't know why I was stupidly imagining the flats to be made up of granulated salt, but that is definitely not the case. After a few cartwheels my hands were about to start bleeding. Painful. Gorgeous, but painful.
From the salt flats, we drove a few more hours to a city called Humahuaca. We explored the city for a little less than an hour before the sun went down. Another llama-filled meal and back to the hostel to get some rest, knowing we had to get up early the next day. Damien had heard of a little town called Iruya that was supposed to be a "once in a lifetime place" to visit. You can only get to it by bus from Humahuaca. The 2.5-hour bus ride takes you out of the city, off of the highway, through the mountains, through rivers (not over them - through), and along cliffs. Eventually the road ends (literally) and you find yourself in a little town on the side of a mountain. The entire city is made of cobblestone and due to the high altitudes and steep roads is like one giant cardio workout. We watched a local futbol game, explored the area for a few hours, befriended some little girls on a playground and had some coffee before catching the bus back to Humahuaca.
Humahuaca.
The dirt road on the way to Iruya.
Iruya.
Elementary school geography throw-back: the Tropic of Capricorn! Had to pull over and take a picture with it on our way to Humahuaca.
Humahuaca.
The dirt road on the way to Iruya.
Iruya.After getting back to Humahuaca, we began our four-hour journey back to Salta. Though there was a lot of traveling - be it by car, bus or foot - involved in this trip, I never grew weary of moving from place to place. We got to experience so much more as a group than we ever would have in pairs, or even a group of three. Ashley figured out the hostel and rental car situation, including making CDs for the drives; Damien knew how to drive stick, had a surprisingly reliable internal navigational system, and did a lot of research on what to do/where to go before we left; Meredith, ever the photographer, made sure we all got great pictures and - more importantly for me - was there to experience it all with me as my constant South American travel partner; and Samm, well, you'd have to know Samm to understand how important the comedic relief she provides is. Everything was perfect, with one exception..
I am apparently allergic to both high altitudes and salt. My Mom always told me that my body "can't process salt," but I never actually believed her when she told me I would blow up like the Michelin Man if over-salt-ified. She wasn't even exaggerating. I woke up every morning and my eyes were virtually swollen shut, my cheeks were puffier than usual, and my hands were so swollen it hurt to make a fist. So keep that in mind while you're looking at the pictures - I'm not fat and I'm not chronically wearing sunglasses just to make a fashion statement (though I do love sunglasses as a fashion statement) - I'm just having an allergic reaction to the region.
Allergies aside, though, we are all so lucky to have been places that few people ever get the opportunity to visit...and we did it together.
I am apparently allergic to both high altitudes and salt. My Mom always told me that my body "can't process salt," but I never actually believed her when she told me I would blow up like the Michelin Man if over-salt-ified. She wasn't even exaggerating. I woke up every morning and my eyes were virtually swollen shut, my cheeks were puffier than usual, and my hands were so swollen it hurt to make a fist. So keep that in mind while you're looking at the pictures - I'm not fat and I'm not chronically wearing sunglasses just to make a fashion statement (though I do love sunglasses as a fashion statement) - I'm just having an allergic reaction to the region.
Allergies aside, though, we are all so lucky to have been places that few people ever get the opportunity to visit...and we did it together.
No comments:
Post a Comment