I read somewhere that nobody reads travel blogs unless they know something really awful has happened to the people concerned. They're not interested in people having a great time abroad while they're stuck in their offices at work. You're not like that, are you?
I'm amazed at how much Spanish I've picked up in the last three weeks. Don't get me wrong, I can't actually construct sentences but, for example, I managed to put my laundry in for washing with a mixture of Spanish, pointing and laughing nervously. I still can't say the number seven though without wrapping my tongue around the nearest lamppost.
Salta is a town with a lot more character than most Argentine cities. It's on the edge of the Puna, a high plateau in the Andies and there's a much bigger influence from the indigenous peoples than elsewhere. The heat was significantly more oppressive there than elsewhere, particularly in the afternoon when it's almost impossible to do anything except find some shade and veg out.
We took a tour north-west out of the city on Sunday which took in some pretty breathtaking views, some old pre-Inca ruins and a large salt pan. The route up was through a long valley lined with cacti that looked as if they were straight out of an old western film. The low morning sunlight was shining through their hairy tops making them look like they've been dipped in icing sugar. The salt pan was pretty interesting too. Water runs off the Andies into the central plain, then evaporates leaving the minerals behind. The light reflected off the white landscape meant you had to put sun cream on the underside of your arms to stop them burning.
Before getting the coach out of Salta we took a cable car up to the top of a nearby hill for views of the city. It was all very nice, but then we had to walk back down in the heat which was pretty bad planning on our part, given we were going to spend the next 22 hours on a bus.
Chile won't let Argentine vehicles into their country. It's not hard to see why. Some cars here are barely one run up the vehicle food chain from baked bean tins. Many don't seem to run at all and only qualify as vehicles because they can be pushed to induce movement.
After Salta it was onto the bus again to Mendoza. Once the bus had set off the delightfully chirpy cabin attendant handed around bingo cards. The game was in Spanish of course. Despite what I've written above, congratulating myself on all the Spanish I've picked up, i've only got to "20" in the numbers. Despite this, I won. Credit must go to Dan who fortunately knew 21 to 90. The rest of the bus didn't look so impressed with a non-Spanish speaking gringo winning though. Oops.
Mendoza was a surprisingly nice city. Despite being in the desert it's very green. Irrigation channels are everywhere. We got some cheese and bread and took it to the park with the bottle of wine we'd won for a picnic. The temperature and weather were perfect. Of course the city is famous for it's wine and you can even get wine flavoured ice cream, complete with alcohol. Fab.
The next day we hired bikes and did a tour of the local vineyards, olive producers and a chocolate factory(!) The bikes were awful with stupidly hard seats and handlebars only loosely connected to the front wheel. I'm now convinced that this apparent structural defect is in fact a deliberate ploy to compensate for the wobble induced by all the alcohol consumed in the tastings during the trip. Despite all this, I am now a wine expert. Honest.
So that's it for Argentina. I won't miss their tediously relentless Falklands obsession, cheese and ham sandwiches (it's ALWAYS cheese 'n ham) or high prices, but I will miss the Empanadas, national parks, cafe culture, cervesa bock, buses (except the dreaded Fletcha company) and snowy, pointy mountains.
We now have to negotiate travelling Chile in Easter week. Oh joy.
Rich
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