Salta Vista

Having separated from Rob, I was excited about spending some time on my own, mixing with the locals, discovering new adventures and getting right off the tourist trail. Luckily, the two Aussie girls and four lads from Oxford Brookes in my dorm were thinking the same, so we ventured upstairs to have a few beers and watch the football.



Eat this, cliche lovers. Of the best things about traveling is seeing the changes as you move from one place to another.

I´d heard numerous accounts of how different things will be in Bolivia. Hence I decided to approach with caution and take some days moving gradualy towards the border, passing through Argentina´s poorest provinces. Increasingly, there have been ominous signs hinting at what lies ahead.

An example: this morning I got on a bus. In fact, it was the bus that goes all the way to the border, although I wasn´t. Arriving a little late, I asked if there was still space, and was told that there is always space. Enough space, for example, to fit a family of six on the floor in the aisle next to my seat for five hours.

Buses with toilets that don´t work were invented in Bolivia, but the invention had clearly spread southwards. Still, as I mentioned, I was looking for more ´real travel´ experiences. Ive never been in labour, but it can´t be as bad a the pain I went through holding on for a slash on that bus, although it was real travel, so I enjoyed it.



As well as being a beginners guide to Bolivia, the Northwest of Argentina has incredible, sometimes perplexing, natural scenery. On one bus ride I passed through a sub-tropical forest full of dense vegetation, straight into a cactus filled desert, all within 20 minutes.

I took a tour to explore some coloured rock formations, close to the city of Salta. Our group was able to simply trek in and out of the rocks, with absolutely nobody else for miles around. The geographical cause of the colours was beyond my Spanish, and I wouldn´t have been interested in English either, but it was still a unmissable landscape; so different from anything I have seen before. Seriously, a few bus loads of Japanese tourists is all it would need to become one of the worlds great natural wonders.

I spent a large part of this excursion translating the tour guide for a conspicuous Singaporean man (all the rest of the group were Argentinian) carrying more photographic equipment than Ceb has ordered from ebay in his entire life. Had he got lost, he could easily have survived by sleeping in his lens bag. And he wasn´t that small.



For some time, I have been getting frustrated at people trying to speak to me in English, even when they clearly cant, and my Spanish is coming on. One time, after a few beers, I hit back: " If you came to England, I would speak English with you. But we´re here, so speak Spanish please". In hindsight, this was a bit insensitive in a country that suffered the economic equivalent of sneezing, hitting your head and shitting yourself at the same time in 2002, causing the cost of overseas travel to increase five-fold overnight. Still, I was serious about wanting to stop speaking English, so I decided, from then on, to deny being able to. The chance to debut my new tactic came in the food market in Salta:

"do you want a lottery ticket?"
"no thanks"
"youre not from here, are you"
"Err, (thought about claiming to live up the road) no"
"where are you from (in terrible English)"
"Germany - I don´t speak English"
"I´m from Bolivia"
(hands on pockets)
"how do you say ´what is your name´ in German"
(hadn´t expected that)
"Err (i really don´t know) ´wast ist du nahme´ "
"no its not...I know its not that. I used to know it"
(fuck)
"It depends on the region. can I go now"

Other news: Salta is the laziest city ive ever been in. Their siesta time is 1 till 7. We played floodlit football on mud against another hostel. Kick off was at 12.30 at night, and we weren´t even the last on. The Argies never shoot, until they´ve passed it to the whole team. I rather liked it.

I met an Aussie guy who travels with a full cow-suit. He wore it on a night out. He claims, quite reasonably, that nobody will think he´s a tourist. Looking back, I´m not sure what they thought.

I went for a run and ran into the most random game of football ive ever seen. The pitch was gravel. The locals loved me, until they got drunk and started shouting at me. I ran off.

After four years in Oxford I thought myself quite experienced at riding a bike. One thing I never learned in the Home Counties, though, is that you shouldn't lean your bike against a cactus. I hired one to cycle to the famous 'rock of seven colours' near Tilcara, and midway down the 29 kilometer route became aware of a hissing noise coming from the back wheel. I thought back and instantly regretted not just throwing the bike on the floor when I stopped to take a photo.

I ended up pushing the bike 7 miles along a desert highway to the next village from where I had to wait 5 hours for a bus to take me home.