Posts Tagged With: Argentina

Salta, Argentina: Adventure, Fun And Empanadas

Posted on November 21, 2011 by Mike

Gaucho from Northern Argentina in Plaza 9 de Julio square

As my hulking double-decked bus crossed the border from Chile into Argentina – the arid landscape changing gradually from taupe to green and the immense sky from bright blue to charcoal gray – my thoughts shifted from the sharp accidental elbow to the ribs I had just received from the Brazilian bruiser sitting next to me to the impending rain.

San Bernardo Convent, the oldest building in Salta, dates back to 16th Century

It was with mixed emotion that I welcomed the raindrops beginning to pelt the bus windshield. I had not seen rain since July. Not a drop. The Atacama Desert had certainly lived up to its reputation as the driest place on Earth. But now, I was across the border in another land, another time, another place, another weather pattern. And while I appreciated finally seeing rain, at once I also wished it away. I simply didn’t want it to ruin my plans for this highly anticipated long weekend. Let the raindrops fall some other time.

Argentine blues band Electrohope, performing in Salta. Great concert!

South America blows my mind. Let’s stay with the usually humdrum topic of weather for a moment. I had left the always sunny Atacama Desert to spend a few days in Salta, Argentina. I first heard about Salta from a friend in Calama, Chile, where I am wrapping up a six-month teaching gig. On more than one occasion, he said Salta was a beautiful place worth the 12-hour bus ride from Calama. The road to Salta from Calama winds through canyons, across high desert, and over mountain peaks so high, lungs themselves shift into overdrive.

With my CouchSurfing hosts Lucas and Emi at La Casona del Molino restaurant.

Many travelers unaccustomed to altitudes reaching close to 20,000 feet above sea level, have trouble breathing accompanied with headaches. These are the first signs of altitude sickness, which in a worst case scenario can kill you. Getting to lower altitude as quickly as possible usually takes care of the problem. Drinking coca tea also helps. As a preventive step, your friendly neighborhood pharmacist can also help in the way of medication.

Needless to say, getting to Salta is no Sunday stroll. Some of the roads cut through canyons so narrow and overlook embankments so steep that from the upper level of a double-decked bus it can stimulate a quickened heart and sweaty palms. I admit I’ve had such a fear of going over the edge, but seldom and only when it was warranted: the bus driver takes a curve so fast and so close to the edge of a steep cliff, it seemed that indeed we were about to go over the edge.  That happened once in Ecuador, where sections of the PanAmerican Highway cuts through some of the highest and most treacherous mountain passes I’ve ever seen. But alas, back to the weather. 🙂

Along the way,  the driest place on Earth – that would be the Atacama Desert – was left far behind and progressively replaced with tiny green shrubs I watched llama feed on. Then the brown desert soil stared to vanish under swaths of green grass and canopies of a variety of trees in full bloom.

A night with friends making vegetarian empanadas

The closer we got to Salta, the greener the landscape grew. Then, as a reminder that all this green doesn’t happen without rain, rain clouds stealthily moved in from the east, creating shadows over the mountains. The menacing clouds released their liquid stuff on the valley where dozens of  unburdened wild donkeys grazed and high above tall pines two falcons danced with the wind.  Patches of blue skies returned, but only to give way to fog so thick, it concealed the natural beauty I knew was all around me. The skies remained gray for two of the four days I spent in Salta. On my way back to Calama, about an hour outside of San Pedro de Atacama, the crazy weather got crazier.  In the middle of summer,  in the middle of the desert, on the high plains, a snow blizzard! I just could not believe my eyes. Snow? In summer? In the desert? In the driest place on Earth? Mother Nature having a bit of fun, eh? 

With the falling snow, a nearby volcano belching vapors, and high winds, the bus was forced to slow to a painful crawl. I say painful because 10 hours on a bus with two more hours to go, I was simply dying to be on terra firma.I don’t mind bus travel. It’s the guy who elbows me without so much as an apology that I mind.

Traditional dance on Balcarce street

It’s the guy with a nasty cold who sneezes at will without covering up. Spray your germs, why don’t you? It’s inconsiderate people who think communal space is theirs and theirs alone. They make travel more challenging. You roll with the punches, however. What else can you do?

This was going to be a great weekend. I felt it in my bones. I had heard much about Salta being a beautiful city with plenty going for it. I was ready to see for myself.

Getting transportation to Salta from Calama was a breeze. At least three bus companies – Geminis, Pullman and AndesMar – offer bus service via San Pedro de Atacama. I chose Pullman because AndesMar’s website was not accessible for days – I have no idea why – and Geminis had a string of complaints about its fleet of buses. I had a total of six days for this trip – two for travel to and from Salta. Pullman travels from Calama (and San Pedro) on Wednesdays and returns to both places on Sundays. It’s fleet of buses are not the best I’ve experienced in South America, but it’s fairly comfortable and the nearly $100 round trip cost does include snacks. Two movies in English with Spanish subtitles are shown during the 12-hour journey.

The bus left the Calama bus terminal about a half hour late but made up the time on the road. Processing through customs in Chile and Argentina was a breeze. I had gone through customs in Chile before (traveling from Peru and after to Bolivia) but customs in Argentina was a new experience. Salta would also be the first  place I visited in Argentina. And after experiencing the place, it won’t be my last.

Immediately after arriving at the bus terminal, I was whisked to a blues concert. I landed there with my couchsurfing host Lucas. Dropped off my backpack with security and off we went. It was fantastic! Next day was spent walking around the city.

In Balcarce area with Meike of Hamburg, Germany

I immediately loved the place. Salta has a mix of modern and colonial architecture with some of the coolest bars and restaurants. The main party zone is on Balcarce street. If you don’t like crowds – think New Orleans at Mardi Gras – don’t come down to Balcarce. It is quite the wild party scene.

There are, of course, quieter venues to be found. Plaza 9 de Julio is the hub in the center of town. The square is lined with dozens of restaurants and shops that cater to tourists and for that,  a bit pricey side. Try places just outside of the center, such as La Casona, where locals – as well as well-informed visitors – flock. The ambiance – a huge house converted into a restaurant, with an outdoor patio area – is relaxed.

At the top of Cerro San Bernardo

Locals bring their musical instruments for impromptu jam sessions – mostly folkloric music. And the food is excellent. I had a nice piece of steak – this is meat-loving Argentina after all – but you won’t have trouble finding vegetarian fare.

On my second day in town, I ate meat, chicken and cheese empanadas – a traditional food in this region – but on my third night my host Lucas and girlfriend Emi took me to a hostel owned by a friend, where every Friday night they cook up batches of homemade vegetarian empanadas. They were amazingly good! And of course, the company was great. Spent that evening eating lots of empanadas and washing them down with a $6 bottle of Malbec – Los Morros – I had purchased earlier that week in a fantastic hideaway in the center called Casa Moderna. Casa Moderna has old-country charm and feels family-owned. By the way, just up the street, back at the main square, the colonial cathedral – painted pink – is worth a visit. It’s filled with history and the gold altar is beautiful.

Only 1,070 of these steps to get to the top of Cerro San Bernardo

Salta and the surrounding area offer many activities, including horseback riding, canoeing, hiking and other outdoor pursuits. But you shouldn’t leave Salta without going to the top of the hill – closer to a mountain – by cable car or walking up. Some people choose to go up by cable car – about a 10-minute ride up – and walk back down. I walked up and walked down – twice! You get a panoramic view of the city at the top, and it’s a very relaxing environment, almost park-like. Those in need of adventure can rent a mountain bike at the top and ride down. The downside, in my opinion, is it’s a guided tour down. I wanted to come down the trail alone, but that’s not the kind of business they operate. Also, they need at least two people to sign up to take the tour. Next time, I take a bike up and fly down! 🙂

 

 

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Getting Ready For Argentina

Posted on October 30, 2011 by Mike

Don’t know what it is about Argentina. But it’s one of those countries I find appealing. And yet, I’ve never been there.

That’s about to change.

I always thought the first place in Argentina I’d visit would be Buenos Aires. ( Now there’s another city long on my travel radar). I still intend to get there. But for now, looks like the first place in Argentina I will set foot in is a city named Salta. The province of Salta is in the northwestern part of Argentina and it borders Chile, Bolivia and Paraguay. From what I hear, it’s very touristic, but it also has a lot of charm and fantastic nightlife.

Next month, I will travel from Calama, Chile, to Salta, by bus – 10 to 11 hours – reaching altitudes over the Andes Mountains of more than 17,000 feet above sea level. Break out the oxygen tank now! I think 16,000 feet was the highest I’ve so far been and that happened in Bolivia recently. Anyway, planning, planning, planning. Buses don’t run every day between the two cities, so I might have to leave for Salta with one bus company and return to Calama with another. I have a five-day weekend – is there even such a thing? – coming up, so I will take advantage of the long weekend.

I am also planning to get back to couchsurfing. It’s a great way to meet locals and other travelers. I look forward to that.

My trip to Salta is in mid-November. But these cross-border trips, regardless of the distance, sometimes take time. Planning, planning, planning.

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A Fractured Arm Leads To Bolivian Obsession

Posted on September 26, 2011 by Mike

The first time I saw the Salar de Uyuni, I was sitting in the waiting room of my doctor’s office, with a fractured right arm. I was 16-years-old, tall and skinny with a big afro – I looked like a pencil with a big eraser. Wouldn’t have taken much to snap a bone in my stick-figure body, and indeed it didn’t take much effort when my childhood friend Dickey pulled my arm right out of the socket at the elbow.

We were walking home from school and we spotted a cigarette lighter on the ground. It was one of those cheap plastic ones that come in a variety of bright transparent colors. With its transparency, the fuel inside was visible. This particular lighter was orange and judging from the amount of fuel, it was brand new.

Deep in conversation, Dickey and I walked along Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, New York, toward home. The conversation came to an abrupt end when we spotted the lighter. Our reaction? He looked at me, I looked at him and without a word, we both made a mad dash for the lighter.

Dickey was not as fleet-footed as me. He was beefy bordering on fat, but he could move fast when pushed. On this particular day, he wasn’t as fast as I was. I got to the lighter about a second ahead of him and snatched it up, scraping my knuckles against the concrete pavement – ouch! He only managed to grabbed my fist clutching the cigarette lighter. He tried to pry my fist open to grab the lighter, which was sticking out a bit. Had I had it solidly in hand, maybe he would have backed off. Instead, he continued to pry the lighter out of my hand, but I did not budge. Our struggle for the lighter became a full on wrestling match in the middle of Flatbush Avenue – and you would think some adult would intervene? – people instead just walked by as if nothing.

Summer months bring rain to the Salar de Uyuni

Then it happened. Dickey yanked on my extended arm so hard that it popped right out of the socket at the elbow. All I heard was a snap, crackle then a pop! I dropped the lighter in anguish.

I never had experienced such pain. Dickey and I walked the rest of the way home, he with the lighter in his pocket, me clutching my arm. The next day my arm was so swollen at the elbow, my mother took me to the doctor. The doctor at first determined that the arm was not broken. I could still move my fingers. He sent me home with an order to ice it. Then the next day my doctor’s office called to say the X-Ray had revealed a fracture and that I needed to return to see the doctor. That day I left my doctor’s office in a cast that extended from my wrist to my armpit. Nice going Dickey!

Okay, the truth is both Dickey and I were both at fault. We were two dumb teenagers horsing around. And when that happens, sometimes someone gets hurt – boys will be boys, you know. He did feel bad about it. And every chance I got, I reminded him that he owed me big time! He didn’t fall for that. We went on being friends, as if nothing.

In some strange way, I have Dickey to thank. Had it not been for that fractured arm, I never would have landed in the doctor’s office with the Nat Geo subscription. There on the table in the waiting room, there were several month’s worth of Nat Geo magazines. I picked one up and started to thumb through it and there it was – the Salar de Uyuni – or in English – the Uyuni Salt Flats. I thought, where in the world was this place and how could I get there – like soon?! Like most images in Nat Geo, the photographs were absolutely stunning. I then read the text: Bolivia.

Uyuni has since been embedded in my head. This desert where instead of salt the land is an expanse of blindingly white salt – often under inches of water that reflect sky and mountains during the rainy summer seasons – has crept into my dreams. I have long wished to visit Uyuni, and every time I have met someone lucky enough to have visited, I peppered them with questions. And now, living in Calama, Chile, a few hours away from Uyuni, I think my decades-old dream to visit is near. Or so I hope.

Salar de Uyuni during winter months. Water gone.

I am determined to visit Uyuni, but tit-for-tat global politics may have something else to say about that.

I EXPLAIN: The president of Venezuela, Hugo Chavez, hates the United States. As if to drive that point home, he has aligned himself with avowed enemies of the United States. He has also used Venezuela’s oil riches to influence other countries in the region, one of which is Bolivia.

The president of Bolivia walks in lock-step with the president of Venezuela. When Venezuela is mad at the United States, Morales feels the need to show his loyalty to Chavez by, frankly, doing something stupid. That stupid thing – which amounts to shooting himself in the foot and hurting the Bolivian people – was to make it more difficult for U.S. tourists to visit Bolivia. Morales imposed a $135 visa requirement on U.S. citizens, placed strict limits on how long they could stay in Bolivia, and imposed other rules that work like a charm to turn away Americans. It’s not that Morales wants Americans to stay away – au contraire – he wants Americans to continue to visit and pay a “reciprocal” visa fee, about the same amount that Bolivians are required to pay to gain a visa to enter the U.S.

Only problem with Morales tit-for-tat approach is Bolivia – the poorest country in South America and one of the poorest in the world – needs those millions of tourists dollars it once got from visitors from the United States. There was a time when 1 in 5 visitors to Bolivia was from the United States. Since the new requirements that number has dropped. Some Americans don’t mind paying the fee – frankly, some who are backpackers on a budget can’t afford it – but what makes Bolivia even more a country to be avoided are some of the other roadblocks Morales has put up, aimed at just sticking it to the United States.

As I started researching what is required to enter Bolivia as a U.S. citizen, I literally got a headache. I mean, for instance, must bring a photograph of a certain size with a red background only? If the background of the photo is anything other than red expect to be turned away and sent back across the border or on the next plane. For a country and a people badly in need of tourism dollars, how stupid is that? Politics.

Now, I believe in reciprocity. Brazil, Argentina, Chile and others have such laws in place. These laws state we charge your citizens what you charge our citizens to enter your country. But in some of these countries, Chile for instance, you pay nothing if you cross the border by land. In other words, low-budget backpackers are not hit with a large fee. When I crossed the border from Peru into Chile, I paid nothing.

And some countries only require the fee, not that you jump through hoops, as Bolivia does. Foolish, if you ask me.

So, I must make sure that all my I’s are dotted and my T’s are crossed as I make my way to the Bolivian border in coming weeks. I am taking no chances. I will be marching down to the Bolivian Consulate in Calama, Chile, to inquire exactly what they need from me. Would be a shame to come this far and only come as close to Uyuni as that National Geographic Magazine spread my dear old friend Dickey unwittingly led me to.

ANOTHER BLOGGER ON BOLIVIA’S REQUIREMENT FOR AMERICANS

TTT

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