SALTA

5th - 8th Mar 2014

General Don José de San Martin in Plaza 9 de Julio in Salta, and his pigeons.

Off we set on the several hour road journey to the Finca Valentina just to the south-west of the provincial capital, Salta. We took the high road, not the wimpy low road, out of Jujuy. It was one of those 'don't look down and hope for the best' cliff-hanging white knuckle rides up and over some vertiginous, twisty and narrow mountain roads where you hoped not to meet an unexpected vehicle , or animal, coming in the opposite direction. It always feels safer when you are on the uphill side of the road, and mostly we weren't. Our magnificent back-seat driver was insisting we put on our safety belts. I positively refused on the grounds that I had a rear door seat and was poised, with hand on door handle, to leap out at the slightest indication we were going over the side. Fortunately our front-seat driver knew what he was doing and there was seldom a cause for alarm. After a pit-stop at a mountain guesthouse for a great lunch (spaghetti bolognese....the first spaghetti we have so far found in Argentina), we descended safely towards the city of Salta. From here on the directions we had been provided with proved wanting. We got lost. I had, for some reason, been co-opted as front righthand-seat navigator and having previously berated all members of the female race as being utterly incapable of telling their north from their south, was taking considerable flack from the back. Anyway, to cut a long story short, involving a few U-turns, we made it to the Finca in time for tea.

What a pleasant place it is. I was not booked in here; I was to stay at another, and I must say almost  equally pleasant place (with a jacuzzi in the bathroom..which they didn't have, yah boo sucks), about  3 miles away. The proprietor of the Finca Valentina is a charming Italian lady called, would you believe it, Valentina. She and her husband moved here a few years ago having fallen in love with the place. She mentioned that she was not on the best of terms with her neighbour, a German. This, as you can imagine, provided much amusing speculation concerning flag-raising ceremonies and jack-booted goose-stepping guards.

It was warm and they had a swimming pool. I hadn't been in a swimming pool for years, but succumbed to the temptation. OK, I'm not in the picture here because I'm taking it. I definitely did get in.

The person missing is our erstwhile chauffeur. The stress of the arduous driving had rendered him comatose.

The guy with the long hair and beard, on the right, is a BBC film producer who had just returned from a riding trip in the mountains to our west. He had previously been up in Brazil preparing a documentary on the preparations for the World Cup Fútbol. Interestingly he is an Old Etonian (as, by coincidence, is the guy on the left) and I thought there can't be many Old Etonians working for the BBC. He seemed a very decent well spoken chap. As we were splashing around it transpired that he thought Ed Milliband is a charming, talented and much-underestimated political leader, he disparaged David Cameron, expressed a liking for Nick Clegg and he reckoned that Ed Balls would make a great Prime Minister.  I'm not joking, and I don't think he was. He has obviously become, for whatever reason, a rabid lefty 'Guardianista'. One need speculate no further on how he got the job with the BBC. He had to catch a taxi back to the airport shortly afterwards which might have prevented a rather heated debate before dinner.

Due to the indisposed chauffeur, poor chap, I was lucky enough to take his place for a free and excellent dinner. A great finca, and I left by taxi to mine afterwards. Amazing taxi driver; he was very cheerful and chatty and only charged 30 pesos (£2.50) for the 3 mile ride. I offered him 40 pesos but he refused to accept the tip saying 'you are an honoured guest in my country'! I am beginning to have great faith in Argentinian taxi drivers. At nearly midnight, from an out of town location, a Brit cabby would have been reluctant to turn out and even if he did would have charged at least £20 for a bolshy service.

Left: This was my place, the Finca El Prado. Also great hospitality although I wasn't at it for long. I was looking forward to my jacuzzi in the morning.

After breakfast, and Argentinian breakfasts tend to be very meagre affairs which never consist of much more than tea or coffee and bread or dry croissants (never any eggs or cooked food) it took ages to fill the jacuzzi with water. I tried to switch it on. Nada!. Assistance from the management failed to get it to operate. So much for my much anticipated jacuzzi experience. During this disappointment my upmarket mates turned up in a hurry to get to Salta; they had to get on to another finca further south, pronto. Quick dress, pack and payment and off we went. They dropped me in the centre of Salta and, somewhat sadly, I said goodbye. That was the end of our joint tour. I was now back 'solo mio'.

I towed my increasingly battered suitcase, on spec as always, to a hotel (The Alcazar, if you're interested) near the city centre. No problem, and it was a fairly basic but very comfortable place. I find it amazing that you can get such cheap and decent, by European standards, accommodation with no hassle in Central and South America so easily. This place cost me 250 Pesos per night (£20) and it was the equivalent of an establishment in Europe that would happily have charged at least £100 for similar, and they would have probably been booked up months ahead. The staff here were, as always, extremely courteous, welcoming and trustful. They didn't even require a down-payment or passport details. I suppose that is the advantage of travelling alone; one doesn't have the responsibility of booking in advance (at greater expense) to avoid disappointment and, if so, no ensuing arguments between travelling partners.

One of the main reasons I came to Salta was to experience a trip on the 'Tren de la Nubes' (Train of the Clouds). This is a return-route 15 hour train ride from Salta and back, up west into the mountains, and is one of the three highest rail routes in the world. It climbs up mountains, through tunnels and across spectacular gorges to an altitude of about 14,000ft. It also includes a comfortable dining car and lots of spectacular photo opportunities. Right: See photo, taken from a postcard.

I went to the tourist info centre to enquire about bookings. I was told it had been temporarily CANCELLED due to flooding in the mountains, and not due to restart until April. What a bummer. Can't think why there should have been floods when for the past week or two there had only been sunshine but it was, nevertheless, cancelled. 

I had to go to the nearest bar, of which there were many, to drown my sorrows.



Left:The main square, Plaza 9 de Julio. All towns and cities in Argentina have plazas, streets  and parks called Independencia, San Martin (the general who helped get rid of the Spanish in both Argentina and Chile), 9th of July (the date of independence in 1816) and 25th May (haven't a clue).








The cathedral on the northern side of the plaza. Again, as with all Central and South American towns/cities, there is always an ornate and expensively kitted out cathedral on the plaza. They just love their cathedrals. No expense spared.








Also on the plaza is the Museo de Arqueologiade Alta Montana (high altitude museum). As with  a similar museum in Arequipa, Peru, this houses the mummified remains of children, sacrificed by Incas to the volcano gods. There are three such mummies displayed here, one boy and two girls, which are rotated, one at a time, at 6 monthly intervals through the museum. Their bodies were discovered on the Llullaillaco volcano in 1999. 

Left. Not a good photo due to the fact that photography was prohibited and I had to take a quick shot. It shows the remains of the 9 year old boy, called the Niño, the one currently on display. His head, wrapped in a cloth headband, is facing to our left.

Right: Another mummy on display is that of an Inca girl, La Reina del Cerro (Queen of the Mountain), whose provenance is unclear but was looted from an Inca tomb in the 1920s. She doesn't look very happy.

These children were normally sacrificed (a great honour to the family, apparently) by getting them to swallow a stupefying drink and then knocking them on the head.

There is a marvellous cable-car which takes you up to the top of Cerro San Bernado (left) and offers a great view over the town. I don't normally like cable-cars; they cause me to suffer from vertigo and I constantly imagine the cable snapping. This one is OK because it follows the terrain and is never a great height from the ground.

Right: The view over the town from Cerro San Bernado (named after the patron saint of municipal agitators in and around the small district of Plasto Grande, a certain Bernardo Guignardo).

The green area in the town (centre of pic) is the Parque San Martin (of course), which was a pleasant place to wander around and features a couple of boating lakes, fountains, statues (mainly of yet more Argentinian heroes) and lots of stalls selling home-made things.

I went on a 2 hour open-air bus tour of the town. To be honest it was rather dull, but at least they had a commentary in Ingles. Lots more statues of heroic Argentinian generals in various leafy plazas, the railway station in which was standing the only train, the Tren de la Nubes, immobilé, and several churches. It culminated in a 30 min stop at a large 'artisanal' shopping centre where I didn't buy any of the vast amounts of touristy tat on display. 

Left: Another Argentinian military hero. Forgotten which one.

One area which I found the greatest fun was around the street running up to the railway station. This is home to the many Peña establishments. Peñas are sort of bars cum restaurants which feature traditional music and dancing. As it was night time and I didn't think there would be anything worth photographing I failed, for once, to take my camera. What a mistake. Not only were the restaurants, mostly outdoor seating, excellent featuring empanadas, steaks and llama, but the music and dancing on display was simply fantastic! Brilliant groups of drummers and guitarists were accompanied by amazingly talented and energetic gaucho clad dancers wielding whips and capes and leaping wildly all over the place. You had to hang on to your glass of wine. I wish I had some photos as a reminder. Strongly recommended. Talking of wine, it is difficult to order just a glass of the stuff here. They tended only to serve a minimum of a half-bottle and it was extremely cheap and surprisingly good. I left around 1.00am and that was considered early...I still haven't got into the South American routine of going out for meals at 10.30pm and staying until at least 3.00am for all the entertainment. I must be feeling my age.

So Salta gets the thumbs-up from me. The only irritant, during the day, was the constant unwanted attention from the many persistent shoe-shine boys who, despite the fact that my grotty ex-suede shoes could never be revived by polishing, were difficult to discourage. They were a pest, but a minor issue really, I suppose.

Next stop is to be Cordoba, a 12 hour bus ride to the south. Avante avante.........