Tilcara/Purmamarca/Humahuaca/Iruya, Argentina: Rock in the Mawning

Hostal Los Molles, on the same street as the bus station, (go straight past the plaza, it´s a white house on the right), 30 pesos for a dormitorio with breakfast and an incredible view!

We continued on north to Tilcara, getting even closer to Bolivia than we thought we´d ever do again. Although it still had something of an Argentinean feel, we were so close to Bolivia that we could practically taste the saltenas. Tilcara turned out to be one of the most relaxing and beautiful places we´ve visited. From our hostal we had a breathtaking view of the Quebrada (a long, stretch of rock formations between Salta and Tilcara.)

While sitting outside taking in the view, we met Joke (said, Yolka), a smart, giggly girl from Holland. It was late in the day, but we wanted a peek at Tilcara so we took a 3 km walk to the `lagoon` which was in fact more like a little pond full of yellow and blue beaked ducks. We were surrounded by rocky mountains, cactus and scenes that looked more painted than real. We walked down a woodsy path past small, clay houses where dogs chased rabbits up the rocky slopes and we watched the sky turn pink all around us.

Back at the hostal we met Edgardo, Lisandro and Juan, 3 guys from Pigue, (in the province of Buenos Aires), who turned out to not only be the nicest Argentineans we´d ever met, but also the most hilarious. In two quick days with their wit, humor and just really cute personalities they would change my previously conceived ideas about Argentineans forever.

Apparently, they´d bought too much meat, (6 pounds to be exact!) and didn´t know what to do with it, so they invited us to their barbecue. The food was great, minus the tomato and onion salad that Laura and I made. (We haven´t quite figured out the Chilean salad secret yet.) However, the death-by-onion jokes started rolling and we knew right way that the six of us would be great friends.

After dinner the laughs continued with a silly card game in which we learned that the guys had some amazingly funny and complicated dance moves and that never has Juan ever driven a blue car.

The next day Laura and I went to Purmamarca to see the famous ´Cerro de 7 Colores´ (Hill of 7 Colors). We found the town to be really touristy, the hill to be beautiful and the one hour walk around the hill to be much more impressive. We discussed why Purmamarca is famous for the hill of 7 colors when it could be famous for the valley of a thousand colors!

We took our time walking around exploring the layers of rocky hills, dark gray, behind green, behind brown, reds, oranges...smooth, knobby, jagged, wavy, etc; one more incredible than the next. We sat down for a while and enjoyed the view while I banged on my drum, listening to the distinct echos in the distance.

The next day we got up bright and early to travel four hours to Iruya with the chicos. Juan drove us to Humahuaca where we hopped on a bus that took us right into Iruya. The ride between Humahuaca and Iruya was astounding as we wound up and down mountains surrounded by (more) rock formations and snowy peaks. The boys hopped from side to side of the bus in giddy excitement, taking moment by moment footage of the high altitude landscape.

Once we arrived to Iruya, we hiked to the mirador where we had a view of the tiny town and the beautiful rocky hillsides. We then ate a huge milenesa (typical, Argentine breaded chicken or beef) lunch followed by a walk down to the river. On the way we ran into an old woman selling medicinal herbs. While Laura contemplated buying the cure for her cough, I decided to snap a quick photo of the old senora, something you should never do without asking first. I´m not sure why in that moment I thought I´d get away with it, but the flash went off and the woman got angry. She made me promise I´d send her a copy of the picture, so I sheepishly wrote down her name (apparently there are no street addresses in Iruya) and sincerely promised Petrona Burgos that her pic would be in the mail asap. (I´ve already sent it.)

The ride back to Tilcara seemed longer and much bumpier than the ride there... maybe because we only wanted to sleep, which was entirely impossible. Plus the river had risen, so we had barely gotten rolling when the bus and truck in front of us got stuck right in the middle of the muddy, rocky waters. 30 minutes later, with the help of the passengers and drivers, everyone was through. No one seemed to mind the wait though, since they were more interested in taking pictures of the laughable situation.

All in all, we had had a great day! It ran so smoothly that we were shocked it had been planned by the guys. Laura and I often joke about what we call the `man plan´... obviously planned by men: no money, no tickets, no communication, no clue. Lisandro, Edgardo and Juan defied all odds with a flawlessly organized day.

Once in Tilcara we summoned up our last ounces of energy and danced the night away at the little, local bar in town where we made up 6 of the 12 people there.

The next morning after a few, last laughs with the guys, we said our goodbyes to our favorite Argentines. We were headed for Cafayate.

Let´s party like it´s 2009 :) Salta, Argentina

El Andaluz Cordoba 191 http://191www.hostalelandaluz.com.ar/ 28 pesos x person

The city of Salta is way up north and practically on the border of Bolivia. It definately has that Bolivia feel. Upon our arrival to Salta, after a 20 hour bus ride, we stretched our legs and were bombarded, in a nice way not the Ecua way, by hostal representatives from all over the city. Unknowingly, we chose the party hostal. Little did we know we´d be convinced, obligated and kindly dragged to the Salta party scene every night. We´ve never been to a hostal where there´s actually an entertainment coordinator.

Our party connection, Diego, cooked barbecues, took us dancing (us and 15 other hostal-ers he convinced), organized a visit to a peña (a dinner-music show), provided lots of wine and funny tourist stories. He was Mr.Fun. Which was great, except he made us feel like old ladies - a little peace and quiet anyone? :)

The Arg. party scene is a little bizarre. It starts at 2am, yes, 2am. Clubs and bars open at 1am-ish and are hopping at 2am until 6am. We weren´t and aren´t used to this type of partying! Doesn´t anyone want a decent night´s sleep? :)

Being dragged to the party was fun of course, but coincidentally made the next day start about 6 hours later than usual.

Salta is a beautiful city. All the places we´ve visited in Argentina have been beautiful with lots of trees and a small town feel, even in bigger cities. We visited the food market, which finally felt like the market we know and love. Dirty, smelly, raw, loud, cheap, perfect! We also visited the handicraft market and our eyes glazed over from the heat and poncho overload. Can you really consider anything wool when you are standing still and sweating? Lastly, we went to another handicraft fair which felt more like the Scituate Art Festival than the Juan Leon Mera Market. Here there were few wool ponchos and lots of jewelry... now we´re talking!

Of course, lets talk about the Argentinian barbecue. We could relate it to a Mayer Seafood Pigout, but with meat. We´re not talking hamburgers and hot dogs... no, no, no... we´re talking chorizo, blood sausage (just close your eyes and chew, it´s not so bad I swear!), tripe (intestines, see blood sausage instructions, but chew longer), steak, ribs and a million other cuts of meat that I have no idea what they mean but are common parts of Arg. conversation. The serving tray never seemed to empty nor did our glasses of wine. It was one of the most delicious nights of my life. We chatted it up with some Porteños (people from Buenos Aires) from the neighborhood of "Flowers." They cutely explained that it´s right next to the neighborhood "Little Horse." We chuckled at how ridiculous it sounded in English.

We also chatted with some funny Germans who explained that their town in Germany is known for being the most organized and for putting "lay" on the end of words to make things nice and little. Their example to us "sausage-lay," simply meaning "a little, cute sausage." Thank you for that fine example.

After the BBQ... of course, we went dancing.

The last highlight of our Salta stop was the peña. Maybe you remember peñas from Peru? We went to an amazing music and dance show in Lima, Peru and wrote about it in the blog. Here it was different dancing and music, but just as great. It consisted of live music and traditional Arg. dances. We were wowed by stomping, dancing Arg. cowboys and twirling girls with frilly skirts. We ate llama empanadas, rocked out folklore style and received a free bottle of wine for my fake-birthday celebration.

And of course, after... we went dancing.

We enjoyed our combo Bolivian-Arg city. We felt more at home than ever. We´re heading closer to the Bolivian border to check out some famous rock stuff. Chao!

ps: the pictures in this blog are not ours, we were too hot to take pictures. They are borrowed from the internet. Thank you anomous picture taker!

Mendoza, Argentina: Let the Wine Floooow Flow Flow Flow

Casa Pueblo Hostal, Pellegrini 377, two blocks from the bus terminal 35 pesos for a dormitorio

Mendoza is one of the biggest wine producing capitals in the world. We unknowingly arrived just in time for the Festival de la Vendimia (annual wine celebration). We also unknowingly arrived at the hottest time of the year and were momentarily paralyzed by the heat. During the summer it's so unbearably hot that everything closes between 1 pm and 5 pm. This did not work out so well with our usual wake up late schedule.

Mendoza in my opinion is the most beautiful city in Argentina. It's big, but feels small; cute and elegant restaurants, cafes and ice cream parlors line the streets; and there are more than 5 main plazas to relax in. Apparently anyone (including foreigners) can study at Mendoza's public university for free! I could definitely live in this city.

I might sum up our time in Mendoza with one word: WALK. During our 7 day stay we walked everywhere, partly by choice and partly because we couldn't really get a handle of the public transportation.

We made our first usual stop at the mercado artesenal where we met Sebastian, a sweet, but spacey guy selling duck puppets and moldable faces. He was kind enough to fix Laura's sandal with his puppet glue. At that time we didn't know that he'd pop up over and over again during our stay in Mendoza.

At night we went to Plaza Italia for the Italian Festival where we listened to opera music and waited in looooong lines to try food from different regions in Italy... polenta, calamari, tiramisu, cannolis... mmmmm (It definitely made up for all the bad Italian food we've eaten while in South America.)

The next day our walk-a-thon began with a trip to the zoo. We spent about 4 hours working our way through the winding paths lined with various species of lions, monkeys, birds, etc. Our favorites being the hippos. ("I said, you're huuge, you're funky...") Really this zoo was neverending.

At night the Festival de la Vendimia began with an impressive parade during which the candidates for the queen of the Vendimia threw gifts to the spectators. The whole city had gathered to see this event which is why Sebastian, the puppet guy, tried to explain to us that if you go in the crowd, "te toca"... in other words, something will happen. We weren't really sure what that meant, but we did think entering the crowd could be dangerous since some of the girls were throwing melons! (Knocking someone unconscious with a melon doesn't seem to be the best way to get elected, but what do I know?)

The next morning while eating our bread with dulce de leche breakfast (mmm), we met Gabriel, a free-spirited, hipster Colombian, who can best be described as "buena honda" (a term used for people who give off a really good vibe or energy). Gabriel, Laura and I chatted our way back to the second day of the parade, ran into Sebastian again and watched horse after horse trot by. Then came the chicas again, this time throwing grapes and just apples into the crowd (maybe their aim was better than with the melons...)

When the parade ended, we hopped on a bus with Gabriel headed for the vineyards. We got off a little too soon and what looked like a two block walk on our map turned out to be more than an hour in the scorching heat. When we arrived, the vineyard was closed. So we walked some more, arrived to another vineyard where the rudest host ever showed us our wine tasting options and limited food options... ( A sandwich or....No that's it. A sandwich...) We finally sat down with a bottle of Malbec and our sandwichazos (huge sandwiches) which turned out to be more like a big, juicy piece of meat with bread.

Getting back to the city ended up being almost as complicated as our arrival. Gabriel had a bus to Buenos Aires to catch, but with a small miracle and our police car, bus, taxi combo, he made it without a minute to spare.

At night back in the hostal, we met two people who'd play a large role in the rest of our Mendoza days; Hiya, a funky, adventurous girl from England and Negro, a quiet, but intriguing Argentinean. After a few beers the 4 or us decided to test out the Argentine nightlife. Going out in Argentina is a commitment; it involves having a lot of energy and knowing that you'll probably do close to nothing the next day. Clubs open around 1:30 a.m. and don't get hopping until 2:00 a.m. So we put on our dancing shoes, left the hostal around 1 a.m. and rocked out until almost 6 in the morning.

Next day: recovery.

On Monday we went with Negro to the repetition of the big vendimia fiesta which really happened on Saturday, but was much cheaper and just as good on Monday. Our expectations where low when they told us there would be a play about wine making. (We pictured a few guys running around on stage stepping on grapes...) However, our mouths hung open as 500 + dancers did a dramatic, artistic reenactment of the wine harvest complete with lights, fountains and countless costume changes. This was followed by one of the most impressive firework displays I've ever seen in my life. Then 2 famous Argentine singers performed, Kevin Johanssen and Javier Calamaro (less famous than his brother Andres, probably due to his fashion sense.)

Our last day in Mendoza was a perfect finale to the time we'd spent there. We decided to head back tot he vineyards in hopes of having a more successful experience than the 1st time. We hopped on a bus with Negro (unfortunately, the wrong bus) and somehow ended up closish to the vineyards where we wanted to be, only to find that it was closed, again... We were not off to a good start.

We then walked in circles for a couple of hours while everyone gave us contradictory directions until we decided to take a break and eat the biggest ice cream of our lives in the plaza with a fountain that spurted out wine colored water. With a new sense of determination we got on another bus and finally made it to where we wanted to be, Familia Di Tomasso, the oldest winery in Mendoza. We got an interesting and informative tour for only 10 pesos, followed by a wine tasting.

We then went back to Tempus Alba where we originally tried to go with Gabriel. The winery was completely different than the first, with modern technology, lots of steel and everything computerized. After a tour, we sat on the balcony with a view of the whole vineyard and shared a bottle of wine and some incredibly delicious, fresh made grape juice with the crazy, exceptionally friendly server who seemed more interested in Negro than in us.

After a long ride back, we continued the wine tasting in our hostal accompanied by some good food made by our own chef, Nego.

The next day we said good-bye to our new friends and comfy hostal, but not before meeting a Rhode Islander who had just arrived the night before. We laughed for a minute about Newport and Del´s and said we'd see each other at McFadden's in Providence.

We couldn't have loved Mendoza more!!!

...We were off to Salta... another 20 hour bus ride.

I´m melting to the seat El Bolson, Argentina

The cabaña on the corner of Feliciano and Anden. It has a sign saying "Cabaña por dia." 40 pesos x person.

We have arrived to Argentina in the middle of summer. They say the heat was worse about a month ago (with temperatures reaching 100 degrees ) but what we caught of the heat was enough for us.

"I think I´ve melted into the seat" That´s what I said as we pulled up to the one room bus station in El Bolson. We were in a microwave on wheels and had become part of the bus seat from our 2 hour tanning booth quality direct sunlight.

El Bolson is a nice little town in the lakes district of Argentina. It´s full of sparkling rivers and lakes, dark green forests, dry rocky mountains and a bosque tallado (a forest full of trees sculpted by artists), cold lakes and a $10 all you can eat buffet, which we took advantage of our first night.

In our many days in El Bolson we spent most of them catching up with our Copacabana friend Fernando, hanging out in the full-of-hippies-and-handicrafts central plaza, movie watching (because of the intense heat and later rain) and cooking.

Maybe you remember our friend Fernando (he´s one of the interesting, spiritual, gem and nature loving hippies we wrote about in our La Paz & Copacabana, Bolivia travels.) He has been traveling around selling rings and other fine jewelry treasures at handicraft festivals around Argentina. He´s been traveling south in Argentina and we´ve been traveling south in Chile. It worked out just right to reunite and catch up in El Bolson. He acted as our more-or-less helpful tour guide. Though due to his and my bad orientation, we did do the forced march in 90 degree weather for a few hours before deciding we had passed what we were looking for and decided to head back. We revived ourselves from the heat by dipping our feet in a nearby river. :)

The central park/plaza in El Bolson was really the place to be any time of day. At whatever hour you could find clown performances, crazy dancers, jugglers, slow motion yoga demonstrations, independent writers passing out their newest creations, rock bands, drum circles and Lori playing her drum. We spent some serious time here doing rigorous people watching.

We had a nice cabaña for the three of us which, as Fernando had been in Argentina for a while, was very uncommon. It would be our first and last non-dormitory style lodging. (Dormitory meaning lots of beds in one room occupied by different people each night.)

Being that we had the whole cabaña to ourselves, we tried all 5 of the recipes we know (our Ecuadorian rice and eggs plate would be recipe 6... we won´t count that.) This included experimenting with our version of Mr.Nardacci´s famous meatballs, which though they didn´t come out very ball like, were 5 star. Definitely up to Mr.Nardacci´s taste standards.

We decided to continue our travels in the North of Argentina and Fernando on his way south. hopefully our paths will cross again. In the mean time we boarded our mobile home for the next 20 hours and got ready for Mendoza.

First Stop... Bariloche, Argentina

Alojamiento Familiar 68 San Martin, tel: (02944) 424864 with a crazy but well intentioned lady :)

Though it has a reputation for being a touristy, shopping destination, they fail to tell you that all the shops that line the streets of Bariloche are... chocolate shops! Yes, it´s a chocolate (and hiking) lovers paradise. What better way to celebrate after a long hike around Bariloche´s as-far-as-the-eye-can-see, frigid lake than with yummy pieces of chocolate.

We only spent one delicious, chocolate filled day in Bariloche (I mean how much chocolate torture could we take?!?) With my bus monitor detection in tip-top shape (Lori always makes fun of me for my bus monitor ways), we found a lost cell phone on the bus (and phoned "Dad," promptly returning it to it´s owner), helped an old lady adjust her bus seat, opened bus windows for struggling passengers and saved a woman´s bag of chocolates she had left... on the bus. Phewf! Among all our busy bus responsibilities, we did find time to dip our big toes in the lake (instantly turning to ice) and meet some nice Americans.

Americans! Wowzer! It´s been a long time since we´ve met any Americans! Thanksgiving was our last encounter. Our excitement rose, our voices rose, our giddy laughter rose... it couldn´t have been a more welcomed and comfortable meeting. Our friends-for-a-day, Erika, Zack, Tim and Kenton, made us laugh with their funny, exactly our type of humor jokes. They told us about their spanish learning difficulities: Manjar (a type of South American caramel) was their first -AR verb (Example: She was really manjaring those cds we were about to buy.) We laughed while hearing stories of getting robbed at screwdriver point in Argentina (no, it´s not a pier in Argentina, as I thought. It´s actually the equivalent of getting robbed at gun point, but with a screwdriver.)

We shared our three bed hostal room with our four new friends and a big, funny misunderstanding of our hostal woman. ("Did you hear what I heard... I think she said we have to shower together?") Thankfully she was actually talking about sharing keys, not showers.

And lastly, we discussed how exactly you would make a citizen´s arrest in the states (Do you have to talk in a deep voice? Need to have handcuffs on hand? These are all important things to know.)

One day was enough time for them and us in Bariloche. They were headed deep in the Patagonia and we were off to meet our Copacabana friend, Fernando, in El Bolson.

Bye guys!

From Puerto Mont to Bariloche

The border crossing into Argentina was a piece of cake. There were no pick up lines (like at the Peruvian border), no visa applications or angry officials (like at the Bolivian border) and no tedious, time consuming baggage searches (like at the Chilean border).

Just a stamp on the passport aaaaand... a minor push of the bus...

"Come on in!!! Welcome to Argentina!"

...well, thank you... think I will. =)

Chile In a Nutshell

In conclusion to our travels in Chile, we'd like to share this list of things that really floated our boat:
75% chance of toilet paper in bathrooms. Ají. Beach sunsets. Caramel popcorn. Cheese stores. Chilean Salad (tomato & onion). Chochoca. Close to the beach always. Cord stores. Credit cards accepted. Electronics. European musical instruments (the harp!). Everyone thinking we're gypsies. Fashonable knit clothes. Fish (resembling fish and chips). Funky capri pants. Headbands. Hot dogs (El completo). Internet in hostals. Kuchen. Legroom on buses. Milcao. Most common response to where we're from: "Barak Obama!" Most popular music: Oasis, Reik, Julieta Venegas. Mote con huesillos. Mullets. Music with 2 or less accordions. Nectarines. No cumbia. No more electric showers TTZZzzz. Nuts 4 Nuts and Nuts 5 Nuts. Pablo Neruda. Paved roads. Peaches. Scarves. Seafood empanadas. Similar sense of humor. Something green and fibrous on our plates. Sweet, old lady hostal owners. Subway. Sunset at 8:30 p.m. TV in rooms. Variety of religions. We almost blend in with Chileans. Wind up music box men with a parrot.

and this list of things we could have easily lived without:

Americanized culture. Begging backpackers who blew their money on booze. Boring beaches. Chilean diet: 1.5 meals a day. Chilean slang (sí po). Closed tourist attractions. Cueca (traditional Chilean dance). Difficult exchange rate. Disgusting overuse of mayonnaise. Emo fad. Fanny packs. Half dreds/half something else. High prices. Humitas. Markets didn't exist. Music with 3+ accordions. Noise ordinances. Quieter people. Rat tail hairdo (1990s style). Sedated dogs.Thin ozone layer. Weather (really hot, really rainy).

Chiloé, Chile: Smells Like Home

Hospedaje Su Casa, Los Alerces 841, www.chiloe.cl/sucasa, hospedajesucasa@gmail.com, Highly recommended!!

Chiloé, an island off the coast of southern Chile, immediately reminded Laura and me of a small New England town. The climate was sunny and cool, the people friendly, the ocean close and the scenery incredible. We arrived to Chiloé by a short ferry ride. While crossing, we saw several sea lions and luckily just as a little girl burst into tears, "Buuuut daddy, I want to see a dolphin!!!" we saw one.

We spent most of our time in Ancud, a city in the north of Chiloé. When we arrived to Ancud, the usual hostal search began. A man approached us and energetically tried to convince us to go with him to his hostal... several times, but his insistence turned us away and we refused his offer... seeeveral times. We continued going from hostal to hostal asking for a room to no avail.

Everything was full, but one lady made a few calls for us, found a place and told us someone was on their way to pick us up.

Who pulled up?? Same guy. "Ha haa! I knew it," he proclaimed. Laura and I were embarrassed, but we had no choice other than to go with him.

Su Casa turned out to be the best hostal we'd ever been in. His wife was very nice and personable, the house immaculate, and the breakfast overflowing with kuchen. We did catch one rainy day in Ancud, but we were more than happy to stay in our comfy room with cable TV and our usual art projects.

We spent a day exploring Ancud from one end to the other; an old Spanish fort, equipped with cannons, a peaceful look-out point, a small rocky beach. We collected sea glass and other junky treasures and stopped to chat with an old painter who although said, he'd be making room for another painter in the world soon, still had a youthful glimmer in his eye when he told stories about his past.

Ancud seemed to be full of funny characters, which we later discovered was because a Chilean circus convention was being held that weekend. We had the chance to see a free concert hosted by clowns and including various musical groups. We particularly enjoyed the tuba, accordion, tambourine trio rocking out gypsy music (hep hep hep!) and Mandrago who brought down the house with English, Canadian and Irish folk music, among other things. The girl sung so beautifully in English that we were shocked to find out that she wasn't a gringa. She sure fooled us!

We also took a day trip a little further south to Casto, the capital of Chiloé, which was having the annual Festival Custombrista showcasing Chiloé's traditions. We saw demonstrations on how to build a boat, make apple chica (liquor), de-wool a sheep (not sure what the technical term for that would be) and put on a horseshoe. All things that will be very useful in our future...

We of course made our rounds, eating; our favorite thing being chochoca (mashed potatoes flattened and rolled with meat in the middle.) We sat for a while and watched a fashion show that had real women (not super models) showing off the simple but elegant, cream colored, linen, Chiloé fashion. This was followed by traditional music such as the cueca (cousin to the salmacueca, a Peruvian rhythm and dance, but less interesting) and a group of 4 accordion players which seemed like too many (if you ask our opinion).

We left Chiloé content that we got to see something really beautiful during our time in Chile. Unfortunately the city leading to the border crossing we'd originally planned was annihilated 6 months ago in a volcanic eruption and days before we were about to cross the volcano had woken up with a few firey burps. So we needed to take another route. We discovered to our despair that we would have to go back to Osurno, an unattractive, dirty, commercial city, for the third time. (We had to stop there to get to Frutillar and then got stuck there for a full day while trying to get out of Frutillar.) But we had no choice, so we bit the bullet and hopped on a bus to Osurno. From there it was smooth sailing right to Bariloche, Argentina