Northern Argentina

On June 2, 2010, I boarded another bus for an adventure in northern Argentina. It is remarkable how many beautiful places there are in South America that I was clueless about before I moved here. Salta is one of those places.

I refer to this trip as my trip to Salta but that’s not completely accurate. Salta is a city in northern Argentina that is commonly used as a base for exploring the surrounding villages, mountains and salt flat. Kelly, Samm (from Chicago) and I took the 24-hour bus from Buenos Aires to Salta and met our friends Damien (from France) and Ashley (from Chicago). We rented a car and immediately set out for Purmamarca.

After stopping excessively to take pictures, relieve our bladders and trade seats, we arrived in Purmamarca after dark and drove to the first hostel we could find. The town felt small and empty as we unloaded our bags and sat down for dinner at the hostel restaurant. We decided to forgo wandering the empty dirt roads of the cold, dark town and played card games instead as we enjoyed the live music, wine and llama empanadas.

I woke up the next morning in Purmamarca and couldn’t believe the beauty outside of my window. We drove into a town with no streetlights after dark and consequently missed how beautifully place the little village was. Just outside of my window was the famous Cerro de los Siete Colores (Hill of Seven Colors). We spent the morning wandering the quaint, pleasant market streets of a town that felt cold and eerie the night before and then walked up the multicolored mountain – taking pictures each step of the way.

Purmamarca

Cerro de los Siete Colores

After we counted the colors of the mountain and Damien saw and touched (while not without warning) his first cactus, we continued north to the salt flat. Damien drove us through winding mountains as his American passengers sang Disney songs and old childhood favorites to pass the time. The large white land was designed like honeycombs of rough, hard, dirty salt that stretch all the way to the mountains on every side. I wish I could describe it better, but I’ll have to let the pictures help me here. Once we grew tired of slicing our hands, elbows and knees on the salt while taking funny pictures, we piled back in the car and continued north again to Humahuaca.

approaching the salt flat

(left-right: Me, Ashley, Samm, Kelly, Damien)

It is said that Humahuaca is the most populated settlement in the historical Quebrada de Humahuaca. To give you an idea of what “most populated” means – there was one bar (though we never found it), one hostel, one grocery store and a couple restaurants. We went out in search of the phantom Humahuaca bar but quickly returned to our hostel to be close to our sacred heater. The nights were cold in northern Argentina and it was almost unbearable to be outside – especially when there wasn’t anything to do.

The next morning we woke up, got on a freezing cold bus and began what was one of the longest, most difficult days of our northern Argentina trip. We spent five agonizing hours getting to and from Iruya, a small town hidden deep in the middle of the mountains outside of Humahuaca. My hands clenched the seat in front of me as the bus took sharp turns at dangerously high speeds. I pretended I didn’t notice that the only thing between the bus tire and a steep drop down the side of the mountain was less than a foot of loose rocks. We were jolted from our seats as the old, metal freezer we were sitting in bounced around on top of boulders and forged small rivers. Occasionally the bus would stop to pick up a local gaucho, and I would look out over the grassy mountains as far as the eye could see and wonder where the hell that person came from and where they were going! My knuckles were white, my legs were weak and my faith was stronger when we arrived safely in the hidden town of Iruya.

As with many of the places we visited on this trip, there wasn’t a lot to do in Iruya. We took pictures, enjoyed a playground with local children, ate lunch in a house disguised as a restaurant and watched a futbol match on a field wedged between two mountains. The people were friendly - if not completely oblivious to our presence. There was something beautiful about the culture of a village that can survive alone in the middle of nowhere… and yet simultaneously endure the quizzical eyes of foreign visitors.

driving through the mountains to Iruya

Iruya

little boy in Iruya

We spent our last day and night in Salta, exploring the base for our travels and singing along with the hostel band. During this trip I saw colors combined by nature in ways I’d never imagined and mountains that looked like jawbreakers. I stood on salt AND the Tropic of Capricorn! I met locals in hidden villages and played with children who rarely see their pictures on digital cameras. But if asked what my favorite part of the journey was – I’d have to say the company. Kelly, Samm, Ashley, Damien and I had a dynamic that made the trip everything it was. It just wouldn’t have been the same without Ashley’s hostel research and music, Damien’s driving and planning skills, Samm’s humor and impeccable memory of Disney songs and Kelly’s allergic reaction to altitude and salt (it’s sad but funny…she looked like the Michelin man the whole trip).