Salta. Salta. Salta.
After our oh-so-long stay in Tucuman, we were northward bound still. We didn't do an overnight bus (whew), but did manage to board a "working class" bus rather than the nicer, tourist-oriented ones we were accustomed to. Body odor knows no cultural or linguistic barrier and we got smacked hard in the face with it. Thank the Lord it was a mere 4 hr ride.
Another case in which Lonely Planet lies: Hostel Salta located at Balcarce 980, "smack in the middle of Salta's viva zona, is definitely the party animal's choice." Too bad it no longer exists!!! We managed to find 2 dorm beds at a different hostel and lounging about, guess who we run into? VICTOR THE FRENCHIE HIMSELF! It really shouldn't be that surprising seeing as how we all have Lonely Planets but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. And another example of how and why the gringo trail in SA is so small.
Because we did zilch in Tucuman, Jess and I vowed to do Salta right. Aside from walking around the city and soaking in its colonial, laidback vibe, we did not one, but two, excursions. Yup. We're soooo rugged.
Excursion 1: zip-lining down 9 cables on South America's largest canopy. The views were amazing, but unfortunately, I have no visuals since we didn't want to risk bringing our camera with us. You can check out Salta Rafting's website though. I was very proud of Jess as she is afraid of heights and um, we were zip-lining between mountains across a huge river. Besides that little fact, we'd only gotten 2 hours of sleep the night before and I'm pretty sure Jess was slightly intoxicated still after the bumpy-as-hell 2 hour jeep ride to the mountain base. Also, we didn't get the memo that we'd have to trek to the start of the zip line. The guide had to hold Jess' hand when she started to hyperventilate. Yup. Proud of the sis for managing to stay alive.
Excursion 2: paragliding off Cerro San Bernado over the city of Salta. Silly me expected some sensation of free-fall, but clearly, there isn't any when you have a huge parachute over your head. We both did tandem glides, Jess' lasting 30 minutes longer than mine due to better weather conditions. I would've enjoyed it more if I was wearing adequate clothing, but because our laundry wasn't done yet, I jumped off a mountain, in winter, in just leggings and a sweater. Whoops. Aside from the hypothermia, I enjoyed my 1st paragliding experience. Now I just have to bungee jump and y'know, skydive out of an airplane...
Salta is a wonderful city, near the Bolivian border, with a romantic feel. It has a thriving nightlife, which we only indulged in once (we're learning to be "adults"...), and is really just an all-around gorgeous place. It rightfully has a spot on the backpacking trail in Argentina. To top it all off though, our stay coincided with celebrations honoring the anniversary of the death of General Martin Miguel de Guemes, leader of the Gaucho Army which defended the Northwest territories of Argentina during the war of Independence. He was fatally wounded in Salta, his hometown, on the night of 16 June, 186 years ago. There were outdoor parties with folk music, food and most awesomely, gauchos in full garb on horses everywhere! Gauchos, Argentine cowboys, possess the same mythical stature and romanticism as our own frontier cowboys of the Wild Wild West. And there were wee lil gaucho/a(s) too, which made me miss my own bebes. The parade on Sunday morning supposedly had 15,000 horses, and because the horses didn't have bags beneath their behinds, there was a whole lotta horse poo on the streets. Aside from the overwhelming stench, the parade was breathtaking in its size and historical significance.
We only meant to spend 2 nights in Salta, but there's something about the city that gets backpackers stuck in its quagmire. One friend couldn't leave when planned because the laundromat held his clothes hostage. Another duo tried to leave but their bus just never showed up. But eventually, after 3 nights, Jess and I said "chau chau" to Salta and left for the Bolivian border with an American, a Scotsman, and the same ol' Frenchman in tow.
¡Adios Argentina y viva Bolivia!
besos,
Antoinette
2 comments:
Ant, Jess, just wanted to drop by and say hello. Glad to know you both are well and living it up. Under the condition I'm in I can't carry a bag of laundry without someone saying "DROP IT". Hahaha So I'm living through your words. Keep the adventures coming.
Have fun when Yen comes Tuesday! Take care girls!
Prego in Houston, Texas.
Please avoid sentences like this: To top it all off though, our stay coincided with celebrations honoring the anniversary of the death of General Martin Miguel de Guemes, leader of the Gaucho Army which defended the Northwest territories of Argentina during the war of Independence. He was fatally wounded in Salta, his hometown, on the night of 16 June, 186 years ago.
I DON'T CARE!
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