Salta, Argentina

In the first week of June, Meredith, myself, and three of our friends took a 5-day vacation to Salta, the province in the north of Argentina. It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever been in my life. The landscape is anything but boring; there are mountain ranges of various colors, deserts, beautiful cities and itty-bitty towns. Coming from Florida I am not accustomed to seeing mountain ranges and cacti on the regular, so it was a nice change of scenery - both from Florida and Buenos Aires.

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.

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.

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.

Colonia, Uruguay

As May came to an end and my three-month anniversary with Buenos Aires came closer, I had to leave the country for a day to renew my tourist visa. Meredith and I woke up earlier than I have in months, caught the first ferry of the day, and suffered through a rocky, hour-long ride from Buenos Aires to Colonia. Despite warnings from several people that Colonia was a small town with nothing to do we decided to spend the afternoon there. We could have easily gotten our passports stamped and immediately returned to Buenos Aires, but we figured if we'd paid the fare to get there we might as well get to know the city. And thank God we did because I absolutely fell in love it.

(Sidenote: the number one thing I've learned about traveling thus far - get all the advice you can from other travelers, but never take anything as an absolute truth. Though they are fellow travelers, everyone experiences every place in a different way.)

The morning had been cold and overcast, causing the ferry ride to be rocky and nauseating. Therefore, our first mission was to find somewhere to eat and grab something to settle our stomachs. What was supposed to be a quick bite turned into an hour-and-a-half meal. Though my lifestyle certainly isn't strenuous in Buenos Aires, it was still nice to relax over a lunch outside of the city, knowing I didn't have one thing to do for the rest of the day besides explore a new place.

As we are two Floridians, accustomed to being driving distance from some of the most beautiful beaches in the world, it took us about 2 seconds to decide that the first thing we wanted to see was the coast. There is a river in Buenos Aires and beautiful places to go enjoy the water, but there isn't a coast and there isn't a lot of green. We started walking down the tree-lined, cobblestone streets in the direction of the nearest shore. At the end of the road we found green fields, palm trees, and the water. Though we weren't on a beach and the water wasn't crystal blue, I still felt closer to home there than in any other place since I arrived here.

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the city's center. We found that Colonia is a small, antique city filled with ruins, museums and gift shops. It can be explored in full in less than a few hours. This definitely isn't the place for someone looking for a party or an excitement-filled afternoon. However, there is a peaceful nature about it that seems to spread throughout the entire city. Everyone was friendly, calm, and slow moving. We heard "hola" more often than we heard the honking of a car horn. People smiled more and stared less. It was a nice change from the big-city feel of Buenos Aires.

After a total of 6 hours in Uruguay, we were on our way back to Buenos Aires. Our passports were stamped, so we had another 90 days to live legally in Argentina, but I have a feeling I'd like to escape to Colonia - or another small, beach town similar to it - sooner than that.

This street still has the original pavement and houses from the first colonial period.

Ruinas del Convento de San Francisco y Faro. The ruins are of a convent that was built in 1694 and burned down in 1704. The lighthouse was completed in 1857.

Cultural Center

What I miss

Quite a few people have expressed curiosity about what I miss the most from the States. My standard answer is my family and friends…obviously. However, there are some things that I miss that are not so expected, yet not surprising enough to be classified as unexpected. Here’s a short list:

- Peanut Butter! I didn't realize how often I consumed peanut butter until it became unavailable to me.

- Driving.

- Making American dollars.

- Light beer… and Yeungling.

- One-stop shopping. I would kill for a Target.

- My beautiful, big, comfortable, wonderful bed.

- LaSpada’s Subs.

- Ft. Lauderdale Beach.

- Quarterdeck (the bar where I worked before I left) and my former coworkers.

- Using my cell phone without worrying about running out of credit.

- Getting text messages from my sister throughout the day that make me laugh out loud. It’s just not the same getting her jokes, observations, and comments via Facebook.

- Watching “Two and a Half Men” with my parents while drinking wine and eating a dinner I didn’t have to pay for or prepare.

- Turkey.

- Fresh fish.

- Stores that sell books in English.

- Watching “The Office” on a T.V. instead of a laptop.

- Being “in the loop” about U.S. news. I didn’t know about the oil spill until almost a week after it happened. God only knows how much celebrity gossip I’ve missed out on.

- Blending in. I don’t know if it’s the way I look or the way I dress, but people take one look at me and know I’m an ex-pat.

- Understanding what people are saying to me.

Getting our bicentennial on.

On May 25, 1810, Argentina basically said, “Hey Spain, we don’t want you to have control over our government anymore. Get your controlling European-selves out of here inmediatamente.” And now, 200 years later, while I am living in this wonderful country, Argentina celebrated the bicentennial of its revolution. Throughout the week there were concerts, parades, and the much anticipated reopening of Teatro Colon in honor of the holiday. I could only make it to the celebration on Tuesday, May 25^th, but I was looking forward to finding out how Argentines party for their country.

Meredith and I were a few blocks into our walk, about ten blocks away from the center of everything, when she asked the pressing questions, “Where is everybody?” I’d been thinking the same thing since we stepped out of our apartment. The streets were virtually empty, and the few people we did pass showed no interest in their country’s holiday. I couldn’t help but think that if we had been in the United States for a celebration like this nearly every person would be wearing something red, white and/or blue. There would be people with their faces painted, American flags on every building, and the voices of people singing the national anthem as they walked toward the parade. This was not the case in Buenos Aires.

Though we did find a good amount of people congregating on the major road downtown, we were still shocked to find that not many people were sporting the country’s baby blue hue. While Meredith and I stood there in the middle of the road taking pictures of in front of the Obelisco (a national monument here that looks frightening similar to the Washington Monument), seven Blue Angel-looking jets flew above us. A few people started clapping while Meredith and I squinted up in the direction that the planes had come from.

“That’s it?” she asked after a solid minute of waiting for more planes. “200 years of freedom and they send seven planes? They couldn’t even make it an even ten?”

I laughed with her. I understood Meredith’s incredibility, but I kept telling myself that every country celebrates holidays differently and that we had to have faith that Argentina would pull through with a giant fiesta. We were in the nation’s capital on the 200^th anniversary of their independence. Something huge had definitely been planned.

We took some pictures of the newly re-opened Teatro Colon, met up with a friend for lunch and enjoyed the afternoon walking around the semi-patriotic downtown area. After sunset we headed back to the center to watch the big parade. From what I could tell each float told part of the story of the revolution. Some of the dancing and music was unbelievable. The parade moved too slow for us to stay and watch the whole thing – by this time we had been downtown for almost 8 hours – but we did get to see some of the more elaborate floats live.

Argentina celebrated its bicentennial the same way it does everything – in its own way and at its own pace. I had a great time celebrating with Argentina, but the day made me miss and appreciate the United States more than I have since I arrived here. This would have been an over-the-top, nationally televised, all-day extravaganza at home. We saw seven planes, a car show and a spectacular parade. I missed the patriotism.

But fear not, with the help of the Alamo and couple red-white-and-blue-themed care packages, Meredith and I are already planning the 4^th of July. We’re going to show this country how the celebration of freedom is done.

The not-so-patriotic crowd.

The Obelisco.

Teatro Colon re-opened on the 24th. Definitely looking into going to a show here.

Florida Street. Go Gators.

Teatro Colon.

Peron on the big screen they put up for the parade and the Obelisco by night.

Crazy dancing girl in the beginning of the parade being spun out over the crowd.

Performers running/dancing along the side and the top of a ship float. The video doesn't do it justice; it was insane.

Roughing it

When my friend Pachu showed me the apartment that Meredith and I now live in, I thought it was endearing and warm. I posted pictures showing off my quaint little place, located in one of the best areas of Buenos Aires. I realized it was small and could use a good cleaning, but it was within my budget and I knew that Meredith and I have endured worse. We have both lived in cramped college dorms, a chaotic sorority house, and several less-than-glamorous apartments. I figured that this place was a palace compared to the bad roommates, bugs, drama, and cramped quarters we have both had to suffer through. I was wrong. This place is GHETTO.

Don’t misunderstand me; I love this apartment. I still find it warm and endearing. I love its location and how it really does feel like home to me. But it is far from a palace. In fact, it is quite possibly the most rundown, decrepit place I have ever lived. And I think it’s important for my family and friends to know exactly how much ghetto this white girl can tolerate.

The shabbiness of the place is masked with sparkly pillows, glass tables, and a balcony. It’s when you sit on the decade-old, never-been-washed couches that the pillows lose their glamour. The place is old and has clearly been home to many careless tenants, giving it a feeling of being constantly dirty. Meredith and I clean the place several times a week, but the 4 o’clock sun shining in through the windows still shows the permanent filth sticking to the glass tabletops. The balcony really is wonderful. It’s nice being able to walk out there to enjoy the cool, fall breeze with a cup of yogurt or glass of wine – depending on the time of day. It almost doesn’t matter that the French doors never fully close so we can hear every argument, party, and wind chime coming from our neighbor’s place.

The doorknob doesn’t stay in the door. The refrigerator is from the 70’s and sounds like a radiator. There isn’t any hot water after 9 p.m., but even if you shower when hot water is available it takes a solid ten minutes to heat up. By that time, I’m finished showering. The gas oven only lights if you let the gas run for a minute and 15 seconds. Dangerous much? If anyone in our building forgets to close the elevator door, which happens hourly, we listen to the alarm go off until someone else on that floor needs to use it.

Despite all this, I have never had so much fun living somewhere. Sure, it’s hard to laugh at the situation when I’m trying to force myself closer to the freezing water pouring out of the showerhead. But Meredith and I have been finding the adventure in using antique appliances, the humor of picking doorknobs up off the floor, the health benefits of climbing flights of stairs to catch an elevator, and the joy of roughing it.

Iguazu Falls

When my Dad was working on cruises in Alaska, he would come back and tell us about the glaciers and whales and say, “It’s one of those things you look at, and you just know God exists.”  That’s the best way to describe Iguazu.  There are no words strong or descriptive enough to explain the sheer power of the Falls.  So I’m not even going to try; I’m just going to do my best to write about my experience there.

You will find Iguazu Falls on nearly every list of “The Wonders of the World.”  The Falls, which are situated on the Iguazu River between Brazil and Argentina, are one of the largest waterfalls in the world.  When moving to South America was just starting to become a not-so-unrealistic idea, Meredith sent me a link to a video of Iguazu Falls with the caption, “WE ARE GOING HERE!”  That was in October.  Little did either of us know that eight months later we would be standing on a slippery metal walkway, squinting up through the mist at waterfalls so powerful we could hear their thunder from half a mile away.

Meredith and I decided to take the 18-hour bus ride to Iguazu about 18 hours before the bus was scheduled to leave.  She came into the Alamo while I was working and said, “Let’s go to Iguazu tomorrow morning.  We can be back before your Tuesday afternoon lesson.”  I looked at her, realized she was serious, and said, “Sounds good to me.”  The next afternoon – after sleeping for a whopping 5 hours – we picked up some empanadas and a couple bottles of wine before making our way to the bus station.

We found out shortly after we’d arrived in Iguazu that a dam had recently broken and flooded the Falls, so a lot of the upper part was closed.  We’d really been looking forward to seeing La Garganta del Diablo, which translates to “throat of the Devil,” but it turned out to be one of the places that was shut down.  La Garganta del Diablo is this area in the Falls where a bunch of the waterfalls meet and it looks like a huge crater in the top of the world.  I definitely recommend Googling pictures of it, as I don’t have any of my own to show you.  Though slightly disappointed, we didn’t let this prevent us from seeing all that we could. 

Paved paths through tall trees turned into metal-grated walkways leading us closer to the sound of the waterfalls.  We were thrilled at the first sight of the fast-paced river and the softer hum of smaller waterfalls hidden in the rocks.  When we finally made it to the opening of the big falls, and I stood there looking at this incredible wonder of the world, a chill went through me.  It was absolutely incredible to feel the cold water hit your face even though the waterfall is easily 50 yards away while listening to the crashing sounds of water hitting more water and rock beneath you. 

We bought two tickets for a speedboat ride up to waterfalls.  The motor whined against the current as the driver pushed it as close to the Falls as he could get without putting us in any imminent danger.  Brazil on our left, Argentina on our right, and a massive waterfall virtually above us, a drenched Meredith looked at me through squinted eyes and said, “Is this for real? Are we actually here?”  I laughed in response, as I wasn’t quite sure of the answer myself in that moment.  The only thing that kept me from thinking I was living in a dream was the smell of mildew and body odor emanating from the lifejacket I was wearing.

Now I’m going to let Iguazu speak for itself.

Me, Meredith, and Iguazu Falls.

Usually you can go all way way to the end of this walkway, but the river was so flooded we could only get halfway.

The view from the upper level.

At the top.

The boat.  That's Brazil on the left side of the river and Argentina on the right.

Drenched and very happy after the boat ride.

A video of some of the waterfalls, just to give you an idea of how powerful they are.

Zoo Lujan

When I first heard about Zoo Lujan I didn’t believe it was real.  I didn’t think my friends were outright lying to me, just exaggerating… a lot.  It seemed a little far-fetched to me that there was a place where I could ride an elephant, hang out cages with lions and tigers, and have grizzly bears eating out of the palm of my hand.  This place was supposed to be two hours outside the city; I didn’t want to pay for the round-trip bus ticket and the admission to a sketchy, possibly fictional, zoo.  Especially when there’s a zoo in Buenos Aires.  Why waste perfectly good booze money on a zoo in the middle of nowhere when there’s one right here?

I realized my friends were being totally serious when my friend Erin actually went to this zoo and came back with picture proof of its existence.  If anything, they had been downplaying the place.  They hadn’t mentioned anything about monkeys, seals, or camels.  The hadn’t told me I could take best friend pictures with a llama and enjoy some beer while the male lion’s roar served as the soundtrack of our afternoon.  I had to go.  So, in true Kelly fashion, I got some friends really excited about going and then left the planning to someone else.

Thanks to my friend Willy P we were at Zoo Lujan within a week.  I can say with confidence that there is not another zoo in the world like Zoo Lujan.  Within five minutes of being in the park, I was standing in a tiger’s cage.  Within two minutes of being in the cage, this massive beast was licking milk from the palm of my hand.  My mind was calm (in awe of what was happening, but calm), but my body’s physiological reaction was absolute terror.  My heart rate was going crazy and every bone in my body was trembling.  The day continued as we walked from cage to cage, often entering them, looking at some of the most exotic animals in the world.  Here are some pictures from an unforgettable afternoon.

Zoo people.

Five minutes after being in the park.  He was licking my hand a few seconds after this picture was taken.

Como se llama?

Just hanging out with some lions.

Feeding 9-month-old grizzlies some prunes.

These seals were absolutely massive.  They would bite the fish right out of your hand.  Nothing compared to Sea World.

The activity I was most excited about all day - riding an elephant!

Feeding my new friend.

Feeding my other new friend.  He ended up "kissing" my whole face in order to get this carrot.  Not many people can say they've kissed a camel, though I'm not sure that's something to brag about.

Adult lions feeding.

Baby tigers!

In his effort to get more milk, he almost knocked me over.

Don't be deceived; I was way more terrified than I appear at the prospect of being knocked on my back inches away from an animal that has teeth as long as my fingers.