Salta

For the last week and a half we’ve been in a place called Salta, located in the north of Argentina. Much like Mendoza, Salta itself is pretty decent, but it’s the surrounding countryside that steals the show. There’s a lot to see in the region, so we figured it was a good time to rent a car. Road trip!

Day 1:
The terrain is quite mountainous, so we spent the first part of the day making our way up a winding gravel road.

The top of the mountain isn’t a peak. It’s a large plain covered with cacti.


It also features the straightest road I’ve ever seen.

We spent the night in Cachi, a little town in the mountains.


Day 2:
We made our way south on Route 40, which is Argentina’s equivalent of Route 66. Like most roads in the rural parts of the country, it’s gravel—which is charming at first, but after a couple hours you just want to stop bouncing around. And despite the fact that it’s a two-way road, there are lots of places where it’s just a single lane.


Before long, we were in a desert that featured some incredible rock formations. It was a lot like the Badlands in South Dakota, but even better. Or should I say “even worse”? (Because they’re bad-lands, you see. Never mind.)


That night we stayed in a great town called Cafayate. We sampled a regional dish called locro, which is a delicious stew that includes corn, meat, onions, and plenty of other stuff we couldn’t identify.


Day 3:
A few miles south of Cafayate, we visited the Quilmes ruins. The Quilmes were a tribe that fought off Inca invasions in the 1400s but eventually fell to the Spanish in the 1600s.


Then we drove north (on a paved road!) into the Quebrada de Cafayate. It’s a ravine that features some of the most amazing scenery in the country.


The region is known for its llamas, so Kim was really excited when we finally saw one on the side of the road. Granted, it was tied up for tourists to take pictures of, but it was still fun.


Probably the best rock formation of the day was “The Amphitheater.” It’s a huge wall of rock, probably a couple hundred feet high, with a narrow opening that leads into a wide, circular space.


Days 4 and 5:
Next, we drove north to a town called Humahuaca. On the way there, we found ourselves in the middle of a dust storm. The landscape looked pretty bleak.


That night, the power went out. We’re not sure why, but it was probably related to the dust storm. Even though the entire town was without electricity, we had an ace up our sleeve: we’d simply drive to a town called Tilcara, about 30 miles away. Surely Tilcara would have power! As it turned out, Tilcara was just as dark as Humahuaca. Still, we enjoyed a nice candle-lit dinner. Kim had a bowl of locro, and I tried llama.


The next day we stayed in Humahuaca and just took it easy. The dust storm had passed, and it was a lovely winter afternoon.


Day 6:
We made our way west, through some beautiful mountains. This one is called “The Skirt,” because apparently it looks like a skirt.


We spent the next few hours ascending a huge mountain (over 13,000 feet). When I got out of the car to take this picture, a huge gust of wind caught my door and pulled it wide open. Closing the door required all my strength (which, I’ll admit, isn’t much…but still).


Eventually we got to a really flat, dusty plain. We were super-excited to see some wild llamas on the side of the road. Actually, I think they’re called vicuñas, so they’re not technically llamas.


The terrain was pretty inhospitable. We were shocked to see that people used to live here.


Day 7:
On our final day with the car, we drove through the Quebrada del Toro, which is yet another gorgeous ravine with stunning scenery. There’s a famous railway that runs along this valley, known as the “Train to the Clouds.” But the train tracks and the road follow pretty much the same route, so we took the car to the clouds instead. The only thing missing was the clouds…but I guess we shouldn’t complain about the perfectly clear skies.


Along the way, we stopped at some ruins near a little town called Santa Rosa de Tastil. The area was originally inhabited by a pre-Incan tribe in the 1400s, and the community was home to over 2,000 people. Nobody is quite sure why they left; there’s no archeological evidence of a fight, so it seems unlikely that they were forced out. I guess they just decided to leave.


Our seven-day road trip was probably the most fun we’ve had in Argentina, and that’s saying a lot. It’s a bit sad to be leaving Salta, actually. We’ve been staying with an incredibly kind family at their bed & breakfast (Poncho Huasi in Cerrillos, if anyone is thinking about visiting Salta), and they’ve really made us feel at home. And the bistro down the street (Don Hernando) has provided some of the best meals in recent memory.

So, it’s bittersweet to say goodbye to Argentina, but it’s time to move on. Up next: Bolivia!

Mendoza

Mendoza is a city in western Argentina, not far from the border with Chile. The city itself is all right, but the main reason people visit is to see the things outside of town.

A pedestrian street in Mendoza

Mendoza is located in the Andes foothills, which means there are tons of hiking opportunities. So one day we joined a hiking tour and climbed to the top of a mountain. Actually, that makes it sound a bit more impressive than it really was. At 3,000 meters, it was barely a mountain—especially compared to some of the huge peaks surrounding it. And there were no ice picks or crampons involved, so the word “climbed” might be a slight exaggeration. Perhaps “walked up” would be more accurate. Nevertheless, we felt pretty glad when we reached the top. The view was (literally) breathtaking.

On the way up

Not a bad view

At the top

Rather than returning to Mendoza that night, we stayed in a hostel located in the mountains. It was a pretty rustic place. Entertainment opportunities consisted of the following: reading in front of the fire place, drinking wine in front of the fire place, and watching the fire. It was fantastic.

Rustic hostel

Our hostel, and the mountain we climbed

The next day we went on a horseback riding tour. I had only been on a horse a couple times in my life—and while fun, it never required any effort on my part, since my horse was always just following the one in front of it. This time was a little different. We still had to stay within sight of our guide, but we were pretty free to take our horses anywhere we wanted. We could even trot and gallop, which was far more exhausting than I’d ever imagined (exhausting for me, anyway…I’m sure the horse was fine).

The best afternoon I’ve had in ages

Mendoza is probably most famous for its wine, so we couldn’t leave town without going on a winery tour. The first place we went was called Bodega Septima (which sounds like a disease, if you ask me). It’s a big place. Very efficient. Very corporate.

A severe case of Bodega Septima

The next place was a small, family-owned, organic winery called Cecchin. Far less efficient, but much more charming.

Cecchin

Our winery tour concluded with an enormous lunch. I think there were about 15 of us on the tour, but there was enough food for twice as many. The best part was that you could drink all the wine you wanted.

Who is going to eat all this food?

After a day of hiking and a day of horseback riding, a day of imbibing was just what the doctor ordered.

Iguazu Falls to Cordoba

Our big seven-week trip through South America has begun! Last Tuesday, I flew from Minneapolis to Buenos Aires, and then I took an 18-hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu to meet up with Kim. (You may be wondering why we didn’t meet up in Brazil; it’s because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t allowed back in the country, since my visa has reached its limit.) Anyway, all that travel time was worth it when Kim and I met up at the bus station. It was great to see her.

Puerto Iguazu is a little town on the Argentinean side of the border, right across the river from Brazil. The main attraction—actually, the only attraction—is Iguazu Falls. And what an attraction it is! I’ve seen a few waterfalls in my life, but this was unlike anything else.

There were rainbows everywhere

It was pretty incredible to walk right up close to the falls. We got kind of wet from all the spray, and we had to yell because it was so loud. It’s hard to describe how amazing it is to be standing in front of an enormous wall of gushing water.

Then we spent a couple days in a little town called San Ignacio. Back in the 1700s, it was the site of a Jesuit mission. About a hundred years later, the government cracked down on it and disbanded the mission. But today you can see the ruins, and it’s pretty interesting.

Ruins of the houses

Ruins of the church entrance

They even had an orange tree!

We had a rainy day last week, which meant we couldn’t really go outside to do any sightseeing. So we spent pretty much the entire day in the hostel. Fortunately, there were some really nice people who ran the place; they had a big barbecue for everyone that night. The home-cooked meal was a perfect end to an otherwise dreary day.

Two pounds of meat for each person in the hostel

After San Ignacio, we took a long bus ride to Cordoba, a large city in the central part of Argentina. It’s a pretty mellow town, despite having a million inhabitants. There are a bunch of universities, so the city is young and has a good energy. There are quite a few pedestrian streets, which are great for a stroll.

Street views in Cordoba

We took a little side-trip from Cordoba and went to a small town called Villa Carlos Paz. It’s billed as Argentina’s version of Las Vegas. I can’t say I agree with that assessment, but it was a decent place to spend an afternoon. For some reason, the town is extremely proud of its cuckoo clock. We weren’t particularly impressed when we first saw it, but we decided to reserve judgment until the top of the hour.

Worst cuckoo clock ever

So, after waiting for about 15 minutes, the big moment arrived. An old, wooden bird slowly emerged from the top window. Then, somewhere deep within the clock’s bowels, a hammer smacked a piece of metal, and we heard a harsh, out-of-tune clank. Then we heard another clank. (It was two o’clock.) Then the bird slowly made its way back inside, and the window closed. It was the most awful cuckoo clock we’d ever seen, but we couldn’t stop laughing.