In the spirit of taking a much-needed vacation, I have traveled with some Volunteer friends down to Salta, Argentina. Salta is about 7 hours (on a bus) from the border of Argentina and Bolivia, which really isn't that far. There were three main legs of the trip to get here...from my site to Santa Cruz, from Santa Cruz to the border, and then from the border to Salta. Although it's by far the shortest leg distance, the trip from my site to Santa Cruz took the longest and involved sitting on buses that weren't moving, walking barefoot in the mud and rain, digging out and pushing pick-up trucks filled to the brim with campesinos and tractors hauling those pick-up trucks through ridiculously deep mud-holes. The truth is, I could write an entire blog entry about that little 40 km jaunt, but I think I'll stick with the positive on this.
First of all, let's get some profiles on the characters of this particular story...my travel buddies that is:
First comes Dan Wright from Michigan (Ann Arbor no less!)...Dan is one of my best pals from my training group but due to what some may consider an over-zealous dedication to his work and the availability of things in his site (items like cheddar cheese, ice cream, etc) he rarely leaves and it had been about 6 months since our paths crossed. Here's a photo of Dan and I at one of the many ice cream joints we tested in Salta.
Next we have Ross Pike hailing from Maine...Ross is a third year volunteer who has stayed in his site to keep up the good work for an extra year. He was a fine arts major at the University of Florida so he has a good eye for photos. He and Dan share the same site, although Ross finds his way out of it a little more often than Dan.
Our Chinese friend Karen hails from Murphysboro, Tennessee and is just about the nicest person you'll ever meet. She is dating Ross and made the trip all the way from Cochabamba to keep us guys honest during this trip. Also, Karen seems to have a tapeworm, like most Chinese Americans I know. The girl is always hungry. Here she is chomping down a sausage sandwich on the ride up the gondola.
We love you Karen!Abe Mooney is from Eugene, Oregon and has a wizard for a father. Abe is also from my training group so we have known each other as long as anyone in Bolivia. Abe traveled down a few days earlier to Salta with his Bolivian wife-to-be Carla and we met up with him when we arrived later.
Joe Stevens from Somewhere Other than Ann Arbor, Michigan arrived in country a few months after me and luckily for him got placed in Santa Cruz and therefore gets to hang out with us. Joe likes to remind everyone he went to Butler University in Indiana and can speak at length on many topics...ranging from any sports event in the last 20 years you can name, blackjack or the economic state of South America. Because we are not interesting enough for Joe, he brought along his Spanish girlfriend Consuelo, who put up with us speaking English and surprised everyone when she spouted off pretty good english herself.
With nothing concrete planned for New Year's, Dan and I had been in touch about figuring out plans to hang out. We kicked around going to La Paz or perhaps Samaipata but eventually decided that getting out of Bolivia would be a real vacation and a much-needed break from our beloved home away from home. We met up in Santa Cruz city and the fun began with an 8 hour overnight bus ride to the Bolivian border town of Yacuiba. We then headed down to the border and began the border crossing process…filling out forms and waiting in lines. We had heard that it was a bit of a hassle, but we were not prepared for what turned out to be a five hour wait in a line that was not very long at all. It was like they were doing thorough background checks on everyone trying to cross the border or something…it was pretty ridiculous. We stayed sane by working on some crossword puzzles that I think Ellen and Dan sent me like a year ago. I feel like the frustration would have mounted and we may have hurt someone had we not had the crossword puzzles. Here's us in line drinking coke FROM A CAN!
Once finally across and a little grumpy, we headed to the bus station to see when we could catch a bus to Salta. There was one leaving within the hour, so we bought tickets. This was our first introduction to the smooth running country of Argentina. We walked up to the first window we saw, said we wanted four tickets and the guy punched it up (on a COMPUTER no less!), printed them off and handed them to us. No names, no ID’s, nothing. In Bolivia, the average bus ticket experience includes running around to six different lines looking for tickets, shoving people to get to the desk, firing a road flare past the face of the worker to get him or her to attend to you, haggle the price for a few minutes to make sure they aren’t ripping you off, them writing your name on a piece of paper that has the bus seat numbers on it, then writing out a receipt by hand. Then you shove your way back through the crowd of people and try to avoid getting robbed on the way out of the terminal. Ok, ok, I am exaggerating. But ask any other volunteer…I am not GROSSLY exaggerating.
Our next “Welcome to Argentina” experience was the purchase and consumption of Budweiser beer. Here is Ross celebrating our arrival:
I think I have expressed before that Bolivian beer leaves much to be desired and the presence of the King of Beers in South America brought a smile to all of our faces and tummies.
We got on our bus and were greeted by a clean cut driver wearing a tie, air conditioning and super comfortable seats and windows that didn’t rattle. We knew this was going to be a good trip. After about 7 hours on the fancy bus, we made it to Salta and found a hostel to set up camp. With a hankerin’ for some Argentine food, we took some awesome hot showers and made our way to the main plaza which was beautiful. It was here we were introduced to part of the culture in Argentina for which we were not prepared. First of all, unlike Bolivia, there were restaurants open past 10pm. Also, there were whole families eating dinner around midnight…families with kids and everything. It seems like Argentina is a “night” culture and that is normal. This was a change for us volunteers who live in the campo and are up and down more or less with the sun. But coincidentally, that night was Argentine daylight savings and they moved ahead another hour in addition to the hour they were ahead after we crossed the border. So that put them two hours ahead of Bolivia, which lies directly north. Imagine being in Cincinnati at 8pm but having to check movie times at Newport on the Levee in Kentucky for 10pm…kind of wild. But it’s all to accommodate the night culture. The sun wasn’t really up until about 8am and stayed out until 10pm…it was kind of nice! After we had some food and yummy beer (Guinness….mmmmmm) we walked around a little bit and headed back to the hostel for bedtime.
The next day we slept off our trip until about 11am. Abe showed up at our hostel and moved his stuff in and we headed to the plaza again to find some breakfast/lunch. By coincidence we ran into Joe and Consuelo there and we all sat down at a nice outdoor place for some pretty good food. Without a doubt though the best part of the meal was the guy who was walking around selling BING CHERRIES. They looked like they were straight from Washington state…incredible. I honestly thought I was in heaven. Just add it to the list of things that would never happen in Bolivia. Here I am enjoying the fruits of Argentina...literally!
Before I continue, I would like to address something. So far in this little story of mine I have alluded to things in Argentina that were nicer or “better” than in Bolivia. And there will probably be more instances of that as you continue reading. I do not want to give you the idea that Bolivia is just a hole of a country that we all despise. This is not entirely true. Sure, there are those days, but it’s not Bolivia’s fault. And Argentina was really just a breath of fresh air that we all needed to remind ourselves that not all of South America is characterized by the things we don’t like about Bolivia. And also why Bolivia needs help from us volunteers. Despite all this, at times it was hard not to knock Bolivia while on our trip. That being said, please bear with what may at times seem like loathing for the country and people of Bolivia.
Argentina felt very welcoming to us foreigners for many reasons. In general, people seem to be much more educated than they are in Bolivia…so we didn’t get questions like “did you come here on a bus” or “how close is America to Spain?” or “how long are the roads closed in America when it rains?” which was a nice break. Argentinians are more accustomed to having people from other countries around because it is a much bigger tourism country than Bolivia. That and there is a much larger European influence there. A lot of Italians went to Argentina to get away from the fascism during World War II. So as opposed to having a huge indigenous population at odds with a European-descended aristocratic-like upper class like you have in Bolivia, it seems to be much more of a level playing field. Granted, we were really only exposed to the city life in one of the cities, but that was certainly the feel we got. We also didn’t feel quite as out of place because we really didn’t stand out as gringos as much as we do in Bolivia. Because of the increased European influence, people were in general lighter-skinned and more “American looking.” Again, I don’t necessarily mean that was a good thing, but it made us feel much less conspicuous which I think subconsciously made us feel like we were more welcome. A lot of people seemed to speak English, even if it was the basics only. In Bolivia, “the basics” of English consist of poorly pronounced swear words and every once in a while a “mai freynd” or “teecher.” The people in Argentina could actually communicate with their English. Not that speaking English makes a person educated, but you could just tell that they had more of a capacity for learning that most of the Bolivians we are exposed to in the campo. The low capacity for learning here in Bolivia is something I think would be hard for someone who does not live here to understand…
Back to our trip. That first evening we were in Salta we took a Gondola ride up to a lookout over the city, which was really cool to see it all from above. We walked around and took some photos and then walked back down to get a little exercise. Here is a shot of all of us at the top (left to right - Dan, Abe, Karen, Ross):
We met up with Joe and Consuelo that night for dinner at a “parillada” place which is where you basically order this big grill thing that they bring out to you still cooking and it’s all these different parts of the cow. There is regular meat and sausage, but there is also heart, kidney, intestines, liver, udder and few other unidentified parts. We pretty much killed the whole thing and it was a good experience trying all the food and stuff, but it left me wondering what all the talk was about concerning the meat in Argentina. We headed out to the “strip” and found a few places to have some drinks and some good conversation. This is what I’d been looking for…good times spent with good friends. It was just that.
The next day was New Year’s Eve. New Year’s has never been a huge deal for me…usually just another party. That’s what it turned to be this year as well, but it wasn’t without its own nuances. For one, I was celebrating in my third country in as many years and it crossed my mind that it would be cool to keep that tradition up. But that would probably mean giving up chopping wood at Bunker Hill Farm with the Shultzs around New Year’s, which I can’t say I’m ready to do quite yet. Anyway, we slept until 11am, which seemed ridiculously late until we remembered that our bodies thought it was 9am. We headed to the plaza for some food which was pretty good but what was even better was the ice cream afterwards. There are ice cream shops all over in Salta and every single one of them was delicious. I think I sampled five different places while we were there and was not once anything less than 100% satisfied. Way better than anything you can find in Bolivia and definitely better than the stuff they scoop out of a Styrofoam cooler in my site that leaves me wondering how they can get cardboard to change colors and freeze like that. Being the ice cream connoisseur I am, this put a ton more points in Argentina’s column.
We did a little more exploring, bought our bus tickets back to the border (which, amazingly, you can do two days ahead of time without worrying about losing your seat) and headed back to the hostel. We bummed around there for a while and then decided to split up. Dan, Abe and I were headed to another hostel owned by the same people where there was going to be a little gathering with some food. There were some English girls we had met that were staying at our hostel and we had a good time chatting with them and I enjoyed annoying them with my attempted English accent, which reminded me of the time Coleman and I did that for a whole night once out at JR Miggs. Anyway, we got there and the food was way less desirable than I had hoped. They served chicken, which again left me hankering for this amazing Argentine meat that the whole world talks about. It was fun talking with some other travelers (the English girls as well as some people from Argentina) but we realized this wasn’t going to be an all night event for us. We bailed about 11:30 to head back and get cleaned up before we met back up with Ross, Karen, Joe and Consuelo.
Abe had bought some fireworks and was looking for a place to shoot them off…so we headed out to the street to see what was going on. Fireworks were going off everywhere, it sounded like a militarized zone or something. Abe, Dan and I found a family that was celebrating New Years out in front of their house and they were extremely friendly and let us share in their gala. They gave us fireworks to shoot off, offered us some wine and we stayed there for about an hour and a half shooting the bull, talking about our respective countries and giving hugs and handshakes to welcome the new year. It was probably the most genuine interaction we had with people from that country…people who weren’t selling us bus tickets or giving us directions. Just normal people. I was really glad we got that because it confirmed what we already suspected…that Argentines are extremely welcoming and friendly. Apparently everyone spends the actual “ball drop” of New Year’s with their family and then heads out later to have a good time. We said good-bye to our surrogate family and headed out to the strip around 2am. I mentioned before about the “night-culture” they have there…well we certainly got a taste of that because when we got there, the place was still dead. We were amazed. There was no one there. Places were just starting to open up and wipe off their tables. We found a place to sit and have a drink, and by chance Joe and Consuelo walked by and joined us. I liked the feel of the whole place…I think I’ve only been “out” like that in the states on New Year’s one time…and I think we paid $80 a head to get into this bar in DC…which was fun but seemed pretty expensive. We paid about $3 to get into this little hole in the wall place (and they even gave us a beer with that cover) where we sat and chatted for a while. We then headed to another place that was playing some thumpitty-thump music to do a little dancing. This place was about $6 cover and with that came a huge bottle of Heineken beer. By this point it was just Abe, Dan and myself and we made our way to the dance floor and did some grooving. I have never been to a rave but that is kind of what I imagined with what was going on…dancing with random people to ridiculously loud thumping music, jumping around and just making a fool out of yourself. We danced for about two hours and had had enough. We found some greasy food and walked to the main plaza to watch the sun come up. It was an old-fashioned Josh Harraman Sunrise Challenge.
On the way back to the hostel we actually ran into the only two people we knew in the whole city…a guy named Sebastián that worked at the hostel and waiter that befriended us at a bar the night before. The second guy was all leathered out on his motorcycle and we mobbed him and gave him high fives and exchanged happy new years…it was a fun little run-in. We were back at the hostel by about 8am…drank some water and crashed hard. 2008 had arrived.
We slept until about midday again, found some food, then Dan and Karen and I did some more exploring and found something great: a McDonalds! Now, none of us are huge fans of McDonalds, but it just made us smile to see something that so loudly screamed “America” like those golden arches. The place was closed, but we vowed to come back the next morning in hopes of gobbling down some Egg McMuffins. We kept on exploring and got some ice cream to keep our energy up. We got back to the hostel and cleaned up and headed out for dinner, our last dinner as a big group since Joe, Consuelo and Abe were all on buses to head back that night. After stuffing ourselves at the buffet dinner, we got some last minute blackjack tips from Joe (the resident gambler in the group) and headed to the casino. After being to Vegas this place seemed pretty sorry. There were two roulette tables, four or five blackjack tables and about 11 million slot machines. I strained to remember the Blackjack basics I had picked up from my one weekend in Vegas and then strained to translate them to Spanish. Once I started playing though, I remembered that you can do it mostly with hand signals. Ross and I found seats at the table first…Ross had been itching to gamble since we’d arrived and I figured why not? Dan was a little more reserved and it took a little pushing and watching us before he joined in. We mostly bet the minimum and went off of what Joe had advised us and what I remembered…about splitting and when to hit and stuff. I determined that 50 pesos (about $16 US) would be all I used and I managed to stick to it despite wanting to throw down another 50 after the first 50 evaporated. Ross lasted a little longer than me, although he lost more too. Abe was making bigger bets and I think only ended up losing 30 pesos. Karen got in on the action and also lost 50 pesos. Dan got down to his last bet twice and came back to almost even but then ended up losing it all. We were rooting for him since he didn’t even want to play in the first place, but it was to no avail. We may have done better had I remembered more, but it was a fun time. Ross contemplated putting 100 down on one bet to try and win it all back but Karen slapped him into shape and we went for ice cream instead. Not abiding by Argentine culture, we were in bed by 1am that night.
Our last day in Salta was January 2nd…as well as my childhood friend Barney Thompson’s 27th birthday. It was by far my favorite day we had in Argentina. We were up around 8am, showered and checked out of the hostel. We walked down to McDonalds in search of our Egg McMuffins but were shot down. No such thing. There was some sort of wannabe imitation McMuffin, but I just got some croissants. BUT there was delicious McDonald’s orange juice and coffee, which was exactly the same as it is in the states…we were in heaven. Here are Ross and myself enjoying said OJ and coffee.
It was an excellent start to an excellent day. We grabbed a bus that took us out of the city to a smaller pueblo about 20 minutes away called San Lorenzo. We had no firm plans but heard that their was lots of cool stuff to do around there. We got off the bus and found a place that rented bikes and decided to do that. There were no paths or anything, we just rode on the streets but it was through some incredibly beautiful country. I have never been to wine country but I imagine it looks a lot like what we saw on our ride. Huge rolling green hills with beautiful estates tucked into them here and there. Every place we saw made us say “yeah I’ll take that one.” We rode for about two hours and it was great to get out…I haven’t done any decent biking since I’ve been down here and it made me remember how much I miss it back home. Here is a pic of what some of the countryside looked like:
On the ride back we stopped a little babbling brook and had a little refresher…splashing around a bit and getting our feet wet…very nice. When we got back we snacked on some delicious Argentine-style empanadas which were, again, way better than anything you can find in Bolivia. We grabbed a bus back to Salta to clean up a bit and finish out our trip.
Next to the McDonalds was a movie theater, which we decided to hit up. That day “I Am Legend” with Will Smith was opening up, so we decided on that. It was nothing like I expected but I enjoyed it. It dealt with a virus that wiped out pretty much all of civilization except Will Smith and his dog. It made me think that something like that may be the gods’ way of pushing the “restart” button on us humans to keep us from destroying the earth and ourselves, which I think in the long run would be a good thing I believe. As long as I’m not one of the ones that dies that is…haha. Anyway, I recommend the movie. Afterwards I headed to the internet café and started writing this very blog entry (which I am finishing here in Bolivia two weeks later) while the others went to another movie. Once the second movie ended, we headed out to eat…Argentine style this time…it was about 10pm. We headed to a place that had looked nice each time we walked by it in hopes of finally getting some of the this fabled argentine steak. I had about $25 of Argentine pesos left in my wallet and was ready to spend all of them as opposed to changing them back into Bolivianos or dollars. Well, we finally got what we had been in search of the whole time. Delicious wine, incredible salad WITH DRESSING and hands down, not exaggerating, the single greatest steaks that have ever crossed my lips. I say “steaks” because we all sampled each others’ meals. Each one was to-die-for. That restaurant alone sold me on coming back to Argentina. It’s called “La Leñita” and is located on Calle Balcarce for those of you who want to take note. After the steaks we had more delicious wine and, of course, ice cream for dessert. My bill ended up being just under what I had in my wallet and I left the rest for the tip. Hands down in the Top 5 meals I’ve had since I’ve left the states…perhaps even Top 5 of my life. It certainly helped that I shared it with some excellent folks…but that food was damn good.
We took a taxi (with a METER…no haggling involved!) to the bus terminal and awaited our doom…the 1am bus back to the border…essentially back to Bolivia. We reminisced about our trip and tried our best not to be depressed we had to leave, but it was a little tough. We made a pact to come back as soon as possible and I tell you as I write this, there are tentative plans for the return trip soon. Here are the boys complaining about being back in Bolivia right after crossing the border.
We made it back to the border, crossed without any issues and found a bus back to Santa Cruz. The reality of Bolivia set in when our taxi almost hit a kid in the border town of Yacuiba and then we got on the hottest bus ride in the world…with children getting on and peddling soda and yucky empanadas every 15 minutes and an unexplained scalding hot pipe running along the floor of the bus battling with Dan’s poor ankles.
I leave you with a shot of the heavens shining down on Salta. Coincidence? I think not.
So, the long and short of it is…you should visit Argentina. I know I’m going back. See ya there!
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