Paco On Tour

Rapa Nui

Following my crossing of the Andes and arrival in Santiago de Chile, I  was ready to fly out West for almost five hours across the Pacific to land an the most isolated island (place?) on the planet. 3,800 km from Chile and another 4,000 km or there abouts to the islands and atolls of Tahiti. Remarkably enough ancient Polynesians managed to arrive centuries ago and establish a uniquely remote and self-contained “civilization” or perhaps “culture” would be a better term. Unfortunately I didn’t read up very much on the history of the island prior to arrival, but from the brochures and guides it would seem that the island was first populated around the VI century. Legend says that the first settlers came on two (very large I suppose) catamarans led by Ariki Hotu Matu, together with his sister Aiki Vi’ and Ava Rei Pua. Apparently members of a Polynesian royal family which had been expelled from their original island... there must be a good story in there somewhere, for sure. The island itself is formed out of the eruptions of three volcanos – Poike (3 million years old), Raro Kau (2,5 million years) and the young Maunga Terevake (only 12,000 years!) – each located on one of the corners of this triangular island.

The first westerner to set eyes on the place was a certain Jacob Roggenberg (or the lookout on his ship I guess) – Dutch – who mistook the Maois (the large statues present all over the island – about which more later) for actual human giants. This of course in 1722 when, after all, anything was still possible... Giants, dwarves, mermaids, dragons... especially in the far and extremely exotic South Pacific! Captain Cook also passed by when travelling through these waters – on his way to Australia? Unfortunately not all strangers which passed by were quite as inocuous as these two. In the mid XIX century some Peruvian raiders appeared on the island and essentially enslaved most of the population – only a few hundred managed to hide themselves in remote parts of the island – and shipped them off to the guano (a natural fertilizer in big demand at the time) mines in Peru, where they all duly perished. Well, not quite all of them. Following an international outcry – from France and Chile mostly it seems – they returned the survivors after a couple of years, by which time only about 75 out of the thousands deported were still alive. All quite tragic. Apart from the human tragedy this represented, the cultural loss was immense. All members of the “higher class” off the island – those that could read and write the ruins which today remain undecipherable – that kept the oral traditions and history of the people, in essence the memory of the community – all died. After 1888 Chile took possession of the island. It established a small naval base, confined the indigenous population to a small village – the only one on the island – the rest of the island being off limits after 18:00 hours. The only contact with the outside would being a navy ship with cargo which came by only once a year. Flights from mainland Chile only began functioning towards the end of the 1960s – nowadays the runway has even been expanded, thanks to NASA’s dollars, to make it possible for the shuttle to land in an emergency  - opening the island to tourism. This is what they essentially live of today. A small permanent community of about 3,500 souls live here today – in its heyday (back in the XV / XVI centuries) there was apparently more than  10,000 inhabitants. The island itself is only about 35 km across and 20 km from side to side.

As to my own arrival on the island it was rather simpler than for the original settlers, or even Captains Roggenberg or Cook. Boarding a large Airbus 340 at Santiago, and even flying against the prevalent winds, we landed smoothly at the small airport. It has probably been one of the times that the plane’s power to eliminate distances has been most powerful. After spending hours and hours on buses to cover less than 1,000 km, less than 5h on a comfortable plane seems very little indeed. The problem is that one completely loses the proper persepective on the distances actually travelled. It took me less than 5 hours, as I said, to cover the same distance (plus 700 km more!) that I managed to walk during almost 4 months in Europe! The actual remoteness of this island is difficult to feel when it is so easy to get here... I suppose that sailing around the world and after days (weeks?) at sea, arriving on this lonely island must really bring home its remoteness – especially when the next stop is more than 4,000 km away, west. Funny how distance has become such a relative concept, 5h becomes equivalent to 4 months !!

Just before boarding the plane in Santiago I met two Spanish guys who had been working for a few weeks on the coast and were off top Rapa Nui for almost three week, both from Madrid and full of vitality. A good laugh to finally be able to share the same sense of humour and outlook in a kind of “Castilian” way. 

I spent the first afternoon exploring a little around Hanga Roa – the name of the only village – and planning what to do the next day. We decided to rent some bikes and explore the island – at least to have a first look. Unfortunately Mario and Alex had something of a rough night and didn’t feel quite strong enough to face a morning on the bike, so I set off alone to cycle around the island. The weather was not all that great - for most of the time I was on the island actually – but the sun was still pretty strong even through the clouds and all. Good exercise on the bike and a great way to get a good feeling of the size of the speck of land J About a 5 hour round trip which was just about right, tired but not exhausted, and a relaxing afternoon back in the village with these two.

On the second day the boys did manage to wake up and we agreed to hire a car – which was about the same price as three bikes! – and we made good use of the motorized transport going up a couple of volcanoes from which I had rather shied away the previous day on my bike J  A good laugh with these two, goofing around with the car a little but nothing especially dangerous so we managed to return it in one piece. Enjoyed lunch by the sea, had my first swim in the Pacific Ocean on this trip. Not bad jumping into almost the middle of it! And took some repeat photo-shots as made the day before – you’ll see on the web in due course…

Most fascinating of all was visiting the crater of Rano Raraku where the Maoi “factory” was. It is full of finished, half-finished and barely began Maois all over the ridge – inside the crater and outside. I have a few pictures showing these impressive monuments all over the place.

That afternoon I made a couple of decisions. I wanted to make a few changes to my plane ticket – about which more in the next post – and given the size of the island felt that 3 full days was probably enough to see most of it. Plus I was a little worried at being short of time – typical syndrome of the 112 month traveler! – to see the south of Chile/Argentina. I need to be in Ushuaia for Christmas day… Anyway the long and short of it was that I simply changed my flight to leave 3 days earlier than I had initially planned and decided to rent a motorbike for my last complete day on Rapa Nui. Although I don’t have a license for a large motorbike, I didn’t get too much hassle and got on my 250 cc beast (hahaha) – I avoided the impressive 600 cc, might have been too much of a temptation – and went off on a really fun “alternative-tour” of the island. Having got to know the more “typical” places during the two previous days I decided to attempt the more inaccessible spots. The first of these was the westernmost point of the island – where the oldest volcano, Poike, lies. Unclear how to pass the continuous fence that seemed to close off this side of the island I managed to work out, after a few tries, that I just had to go through the only gate through which access was possible, crossing the farm there… From then on I entered an untouched wilderness with practically no one around, except for a few cows and horses (ubiquitous on the island) , and surprisingly tall grass when compared to the vegetation on the rest of the isle. The views from the tip of the island – with stunning cliffs falling into the sea – and the top of Poike, across the whole island, were amazing. The freedom that the motorbike gave me was just the icing on the cake!

That afternoon I had my intensive off-road course around the various craters at Terevaka in the centre of the island. By the end of the day, with over 9 hours riding mostly on steep dirt roads, I was ready for a rest! But before leaving I really wanted to experience one of the beautiful sunrises to be seen on the island, with the sun coming out of the sea and (hopefully) offering a memorable sight. In addition there was a full moon out which only set after the sun came out, offering more delightful sights.

It rained heavily that night and I was unsure whether I would be able to cross the island on the motorbike pre-sunrise and actually get much of a view. Fortunately as I drowsily woke up at 6:15 the weather seemed OK. I got on the bike, only to find that my lights had died overnight (because of the rain?) and had to ride only with the help of the moonlight, when it managed to appear through the clouds. Memories of another remarkable motorbike ride with a full moon in Noronha came to mind – although I did have a light that time!

All very charming, and even romantic if there had been someone to share it all with, but a little hair raising with horses and their foals (all over the island) appearing in the middle of the road quite suddenly… I did witness the most amazing colours in the sky as I rode along the coastal way, with a view to the southeast. The sun painting these reds and violets on the clouds above and on the other side of the island the full moon slowly setting over the horizon. A truly “postcard moment”, if it had been possible to put the whole view on one picture!

My idea was to go up the Rano Raraku and watch the sunrise from one of the island’s highpoints. As I arrived the sun was not far from appearing and I had little time to decide whether to climb up the volcano (about 10-15 minutes at a good pace) or just go over to Tongariki – where the famous 15 Moais stand on the Ahu (alter) facing the volcano – clearer on the photos J. I made the wrong choice and climbed Rano Raraku – stubborn me! – when I could have taken some truly stunning pictures of Tongariki with marvelous colours in the background…. Oh well, at least I had the fortune to seeing it all myself, but I was a little sad and frustrated at having lost “the moment”. It was all over in pretty much 10 minutes but still, a good lesson for grabbing those “photo moment” opportunities!

A few hours later I was back at the airport, on the plane to Santiago, having spent some truly memorable days on Rapa Nui.

Mendoza & entrada a Chile

Entre Córdoba y Mendoza he tenido unos diez días bastante raros, viviendo la vida de mochilero de venti-pocos años, con mucha vida nocturna, conociendo a gente en los hostales y dejando de lado a todas las personas que me habían presentado para conocer por estos parajes.

Mis disculpas a Silvia (la madre de Lorena) a la que no llegué ni siquiera a contactar en Córdoba, a Fabián y Fabiana que tan amables fueron conmigo en mi primer día en la ciudad y a los que no tuve mas ocasión de ver. En fin, algunas veces uno hace más el pendón de lo que debería, pero supongo que con casi 5 meses de viaje por este continente también tocaba comportarse como un chiquillo durante unos días... aunque ya se me ha pasado, la verdad. De hecho me cansé después de unos días y en Mendoza, ciudad algo más provinciana que Córdoba – pero con mejor vino y ya muy cerca de los Andes – se me pasó.

Decidí pasar una noche en la montaña, en el camino que lleva a Chile desde Mendoza, para ver un poco más de cerca los cerros por allí y en especial el mítico Aconcagua – la cima más alta de toda la cordillera.

Lo más cómodo era ir con un servicio de excursión turística – de nuevo me convertí en un turista clásico – e ir visitando los pequeños pueblos que hay en la carretera que sube la cordillera pre-andina y después los Andes propiamente dichos. La verdad es que impresionante. La carretera sube hasta unos 3,200 metros sobre el nivel del mar pero a cada lado se encuentran cerros gigantescos – es difícil darse cuenta de su verdadera dimensión sin un punto de referencia, como un camión (pasan 800 cada día por el paso, gracias en gran medida al auge del comercio impulsado por el MERCOSUR) – por encima de los 5,000 metros y más. Realmente increíble.

En lugar de volver a Mendoza, me quedé en el pequeño poblado de Puente del Inca, el penúltimo antes de la frontera con Chile y el más próximo a la entrada del parque nacional de Aconcagua.

El lugar se llama así por una formación geológica muy curiosa, un puente natural de minerales – sobre todo azufre – y algas que, junto a la acción de un antiguo glaciar que pasaba por el mismo valle hace miles de años. A principios de siglo se construyó un hotel de lujo en las inmediaciones como balneario, utilizando las aguas termales que emergen en este lugar. Los baños estaban justo debajo del puente, que se cuidaba poco. Hoy en día el hotel ha desaparecido – semi-destruido por un alud en los años 60 creo y después demolido por el ejército para que la guerrilla no lo utilizara contra el destacamento militar que hay aquí arriba. El hotel nunca se reconstruyo y simplemente queda el milenario puente como destacado lugar histórico. Como siempre os invito a ver las fotos – una vez estén! – en lugar de leerme a mi con mis pobres descripciones!

Lo curioso de toda esta ruta es la existencia del antiguo trazado del tren – que fue el que realmente abrió toda esta parte del país a una mayor prosperidad – que cruzaba el paso de libertadores hasta llegar a la costa chilena. Mucho más económico que llevar toda la mercancía de la zona hasta Buenos Aires. El tren dejó de funcionar hacia finales de los 70, entre otras cosas por cause de una enorme tromba de agua / alud que destrozo literalmente parte del trazado y nunca fue económicamente rentable reabrir la vía, pero es sorprendente seguir viendo todos los túneles y los puentes casi intactos por donde andaba antiguamente el ferrocarril.

Las aludes y corrimiento de tierras por el camino son notorios, aunque no estaba realmente al tanto hasta que me informaron en Mendoza cuando llegué que el paso estaba cortado del laso chileno y no estaban muy seguros cuando volvería a abrir. Esto un sábado, cuando yo el martes a primera hora tenía mi vuelo a Rapa Nui desde Santiago. Solo me vendían un billete de autobús para el lunes, en lugar del domingo que es cuando yo quería salir, esperando que para entonces el camino estaría ya despejado. También corría el rumor que dada la alto nivel de seguridad ese fin de semana en Santiago (se estaba celebrando la reunión anual del APEC, con 21 jefes de Estado – incluido el estimado Pres. Bush y Putin entre otros) no se haría demasiado para que se volviera a abrir el paso internacional antes de que todos estos mandamases se fueran… Rumores infundados, resultaron ser.

En Puente del Inca me quedé a dormir en lo que era la antigua estación de tren, ahora rehabilitada (desde 1996) como hostal / refugio con literas que sólo se pueden utilizar en primavera / verano. En invierno, me comentaba el dueño, la temperatura nocturna podía perfectamente bajar a -35º C, bueno -12º C en los dormitorios J y los pobres infelices que tienen que pasar la noche aquí lo hacen en el salón, con la estufa ardiendo y bien juntitos.

Por fortuna no fue mi caso. Aproveché la tarde para subir a la entrada del parque nacional y observar el Aconcagua de un poco más de cerca de lo que fue posible con la excursión de turistas J charlar un poco con un chaval que estaba estudiando para guía de montaña – Javier de Mendoza – y en general darme un Paesa por esta linda zona.

Me confirmaron que se había abierto el paso de nuevo, o sea que con algo de suerte pude coger el autobús (como se ríen en Argentina con esta frase….) que salía de Mendoza y pasaba por Puente del Inca.

La carretera por el lado chileno era posiblemente incluso más espectacular que del argentino. Más que nada porque la bajada es más pronunciada – de ahí que sufran más desprendimientos que bloquean la carretera – no hay nada de vegetación para fijar las piedras (muy sueltas y relativamente pequeñas) – mientras que las cimas al frente y los lados de la misma son espectaculares (de nuevo… la fotos dicen mas que yo).

Los trámites en la frontera y aduana muy al estilo pre-Schengen, con casi una hora de cola, alguna preguntita al afortunado y mucho sello y cara larga de funcionario de fronteras. La verdad es que, una vez pasada la frontera, el descenso es rápido, se cruzan los montes pre-andinos y se llega a Santiago de Chile en prácticamente tres horas (aunque no hay más de 120 km).

La vegetación a este lado de la cordillera es mucho más frondosa, con ayuda de las lluvias que vienen del Pacifico me imagino, y que no llegan a alcanzar el otro lado de las montañas. Se empieza a notar cierta diferencia con la Argentina, aquí en Chile, aunque con menos de 24h en el país es difícil empezar a distinguirlas.

Entretanto llego a uno de esos pequeños puntos de inflexión en el viaje. Se acaba la visita al norte y centro d Argentina. Ahora será la Patagonia – naturaleza y zonas principalmente turísticas – que me queda por visitar, al menos en este viaje. Me quedo en Chile menos tiempo del planeado, alrededor de 3 semanas – si llega –pero estoy seguro que tendré unas 5 semanas bastante intensas – al menos hasta Navidad, pero más allá también.

Empiezo con Rapa Nui, a 3,800 km de Santiago (cada vez parece que va siendo más J ) y después hacia la isla de Chiloé en Chile y la zona de los Lagos, de las dos partes de la frontera. He comprado un pasaje en el ferry que va de Puerto Montt hasta Puerto Natales en el sur del país desde donde podré acceder a Torres del Paine y toda la zona del parque de los glaciares en Argentina (Calafate et al). Pero me adelanto, ya habrá tiempo para escribir sobre todo eso. Por el momento, dejo atrás la aridez y belleza rocosa del interior argentino (sobre todo al norte), así como las áreas más ricas del interior para descubrir la costa del Pacífico y la legendaria Patagonia. Creo que el tema fotográfico va a estar en alza durante este tiempo!

Córdoba

There was a dual intention when coming  to Córdoba. One was to explore a little the surrounding countryside with apparently nice mountain scenery a few lakes as well as some charming Jesuit Estancias to be visited and at the same time enjoy some of the famed nightlife of this university town par excellence. Leaving tomorrow, Wednesday, it would seem I have done a lot more of the latter… J Jesuits will have to be visited next time round.

Much of the fault lies with the great atmosphere reigning in the hostel I was staying at – Hostal Tango (not a terribly original name, but easy to remember for foreigners I suppose). The place was full of fellow backpackers, but also a few Argentineans here and there. It was small enough to have a cozy atmosphere where everybody could meet everyone else but large enough to feel too cramped or oppressive. Communal dinners every evening and activities during the day – went on a horse-riding trip myself one day – as well a very hospitable owner made it one of the most sociable places I have stayed yet.

Friends in Baires had given me a contact here in Córdoba – Fabian – who very kindly met me the day I arrived and gave me some tips of places to visit outside the city. I set off for the small town of Capilla del Monte about 120 km from Córdoba itself and at the base of a famous mountain named Uritorco. Already sacred at the time the original inhabitants  roamed around here – or at least the last native ones, the Comechingones (!) – and today very popular in the “alternative” scene as a centre of energy and renewal. In fact, many UFO sightings have been made here and there is a generally “mystical” aura to the place. I spent a peaceful evening here, although I wasn’t particularly impressed with the 3h plus bus ride to get up here (about 35 km/h average that is…) Hours for doing things here, eating, shopping, going out, are completely Spanish. Dinner at 22:00-23:00, nothing really starts before 1:00 and don’t think about going to a club before 3:00 of course you can only be back at 6:00 or 7:00 at the earliest, just as the sun is coming up. I sometimes forget what it was like to be in your early 20s J and for a few days it is kind of fun to pretend that you still are in that age-group (lucky enough I am not too fat / wrinkly / bald to show that I am well beyond that age group !). Of course nothing is particularly new at this point, but going out with the newly found friends made in the hostel and given the great variety of places to be found here in Córdoba I managed to keep it up for 3-4 days without too much of a struggle J Córdoba seems a lot less “stuffy” – not quite sure how to put it – than Buenos Aires. I suppose the fact that there are students from all over the country, except Buenos Aires – since they have universities for themselves there – together with its current spring temperatures (including heavy storms) and its much more compact size make it a very manageable city, easy to move around in and even almost feel at home at with relative ease.

In the morning I got up early to trek up the mountain but it seems that I have been rather spoilt by the Andes, since whilst I found the walk up nice enough, a little tiring at the beginning even, the experience was a little less spectacular than I had imagined. In fact it reminded me very much of the sierras around Madrid where I grew up, although with rather less vegetation. Here the area is really more of a local holiday / get-away spot, for Cordobeses and even those from Buenos Aires, than a major tourist spot – although I certainly didn’t see enough to make any kind of concluding remarks. It was nevertheless very nice to be up in the mountains for the day. Back in Córdoba, after another 3 hours in the bus, I found a young vibrant city getting ready for the weekend which was just about to start. I hadn’t really been out that much – at least clubbing – since I left home, and certainly since Rio – and funnily enough I was looking forward to getting out a bit here.

Of course much of the “traveling spirit” I have maintained up to now has kind of evaporated in the current circumstances. It is more the scene of those twenty-something backpackers that are traveling around the world, or South America, or just Argentina. The beautiful ladies – of which there are very many here – the current status of relationships between men and women here, latent (or ever present) issues of sexism (machismo), women’s social position, traditionalism, family matters – simply seeing so many young pregnant women around! – economic security and / or emancipation plus the link with education (in this university town)  are just some of the issues that have gone through my head during my time here… More analogies with Spain in the 1980s and the “Italian” influences in Argentinean culture, plenty of material to write a lot more about.

Personally it has been a tad frustrating at times – a little like in Buenos Aires and perhaps for similar reasons. I have probably been more surprised at my reaction and behaviour when faced with this environment / culture which is sufficiently familiar since my own cultural reference points are in many ways similar but at the same time feel it far or different enough as not to share enough of it and make it part of myself… if that makes any sense!

Anyway, off to Mendoza tomorrow for a few days, up close to the Andes again. Ready to pass by the highest peak of the mountain range, Aconcagua, on my way to  Santiago and hopefully off to Rapa Nui in a week or so. Looking very much forward to it.

In the meantime the first 500 (!) pictures of Argentina are on their way to  Europe and hopefully will be uploaded before the end of the month (thanks Victor!). All of Rio is now online – if you catch my drift…

Salta

Siguiendo mi viaje por el noroeste de Argentina llegué a la ciudad de Salta, capital de la provincia del mismo nombre y centro turístico por excelencia de la región.

Aquí empieza lo que han sido casi dos semanas de vida de mochilero de verdad, o mejor dicho, más tradicional. Hostales llenos de veintiañeros de diferentes lugares del mundo, con el inglés como idioma común, bastante juerga por las noches mezcladas con excursiones y salidas para ver las zonas mas turísticas de la región.

El centro histórico de Salta se concentra en su plaza central, muy bella y bien cuidada,  junto con algunas manzanas alrededor. Iglesias, catedrales, y edificios coloniales constituyen la parte histórica. En realidad se respira un alto grado de tradicionalismo en esta parte del país. La gente sale a tomar su café de la tarde, se encuentra para su charla matinal o simplemente da el paseo del final del día parecería que en el mismo lugar y la misma hora todos los días. En la forma y el fondo evoca en gran medida una ciudad de provincias cualquiera en España. Existen unas 15-20 familias tradicionales en la ciudad, de las de toda la vida, que en muchas ocasiones remontan sus ancestros a los conquistadores españoles del siglo XVII o XVIII, con sus estancias / haciendas / terrenos, viñedos, mansiones en la sierra y demás. A la vez una importante capa social está confinada a un nivel de pobreza considerable. Las disparidades entre los que tienen y no se hace más aparente en la provincia y estos espacios urbanos más reducidos.

Se sigue observando, como más al norte en Jujuy, una importante tasa de mestizaje en la población que evidentemente da un carácter algo variado en lo que es un país a fin de cuentas altamente europeizado.

Aparte de socializar mucho en el albergue de Salta – Terra Oculta de nombre para el que quiera visitarlo pasando por aquí – la actividad más intensa aquí en Jujuy consistió en tres días de viaje en mini-bus con otros siete turistas por todos los parajes naturales que rodean Salta, al menos al oeste y al sur. Tres días que fueron bastante largos pero llenos de belleza natural y parajes sorprendentes.

El primer día seguimos la ruta del ferrocarril que sale de Salta y sube a más de  4,000 metros para cruzar la frontera con Chile – ahora solamente utilizado por un tren de mercancías que sube una vez a la semana con gas natural con dirección al mar y por el tren turístico llamado “El Tren de las Nubes”, bonito pero creo que tomé la buena decisión en subir por carretera y no por ferrocarril ya que aparte del precio (la mitad) da tiempo también a ir al Salar – como el de Uyuni pero más pequeño y menos impresionante claro – y bajar de nuevo del altiplano por un puerto dramático hasta el lindo poblado de Pumamarca en el valle de Humamhuaca, pero que no había podido visitar durante mi paso por allí.

El segundo y tercer día de excursión fueron consagrados a visitar los dos valles paralelos que quedan entre Salta y Cafayate – un pequeño pueblo vinícola y ahora turístico a unos 120 km de Salta – con una cantidad de formaciones rocosas extraordinarias, realmente especial. La única pena fue hacerlo un poco demasiado deprisa, 4 o 5 dias hubieran sido mejor que 2, pero al no tener transporte independiente y muchos lugares no ser accesibles por transporte público, era un problema poder hacerlo de otra manera... De cualquier manera la visita es altamente recomendable, no me pararé mucho a describirlas dado que di rienda suelta a la cámara y saqué muchas más fotografías de las que quizás hubiera sido recomendable... y ya que dicen que una palabra vale más que mil palabras, esperemos que una de las 200-300 que saqué en estos días esté a la altura del dicho...

Aprovecho para avisar que Víctor – después de resolver unos problemas técnicos ha podido finalmente colgar las casi 300 fotos que tomé en Rio de Janeiro... por si acaso no las habías visto todavía....

Después de tanta visita turística – 3 días, con 12-14 horas de moverse – tenía ganas de reposarme un poco y llevar una vida algo diferente. Salí hacia Córdoba con ese fin...

Jujuy

After my fortnight in Buenos Aires, living in unaccustomed luxury, I was ready to pick up my backpack once again and return to life on the road, which to be honest I was actually starting to miss.

The plan was to head up to the northernmost province of Argentina (Jujuy) that borders on to Bolivia and Chile. Back to my proper length bus ride – 20 hours on this occasion – to get to San Salvador de Jujuy, the capital of the province. Mostly a night ride across the northern plains of the country.

I seem to plan less and less as the trip progresses and I hadn’t thought where I would stay upon arrival really. Having looked through my guide as I approached Jujuy I decided it would probably be best to go up into the Quebrada de Humahuaca (since a few years ago a UNESCO World Heritage site) in order to get fully into the rural atmosphere - since Jujuy was also rather larger than I had at first expected. The bus ride up to Humahuaca – about 150 km further north – took almost 3 hours, welcome to multi-stop bus rides! Although it is true that I had jumped on the first bus I had seen at Jujuy’s bus station and it wasn’t really the most direct service…

This part of the country has little to do with Buenos Aires. There is still a very strong element of Andean culture present and although the people are not quite as “indigenous” looking as they had been in Bolivia, the majority are clearly mestizos to one degree or another; a mix of the original inhabitants and the (mostly Spanish) settlers who arrived first back in the XVII and XVIII centuries. The general feeling I had was one of continuity with my visit to Bolivia rather than Buenos Aires – the landscape is similar to the first and the peoples are evidently related.

Of course, whatever the marginal economic position of the villages here in Argentina theycertainly dispose of greater resources than their counterparts in Bolivia. Surfaced roads are not a rarity in the countryside, as they are further north, and tourism (increasingly internal from the Buenos Aires region) is much more prominent here.

My idea, heading up to Humahuaca, was to join a tour – really a small group usually  -to visit the area since you usually need private transport to get to see the more remote, and thereby a lot of the time more interesting,  areas.  There are few tourists around at this stage which is really something of a mixed blessing. Less people "in the way" as it were but also more difficult to form groups sufficiently large to make it worthwhile to go on one of these trips... I decided I would have to try in the much larger Jujuy or Salta to get somethingm at all.

There was, nevertheless, a highly recommended bus ride up to Iruya, which was raved aboutby some locals and the travel-guides too. A 70km trip north, mostly along a dirt-trak, climbing up to just over 4000 m and then going done the following valley to visit the charming, and very isolated, village of Iruya, at the end of the road. The bus waited for a couple of hours and then drove us back.

On the trip I got talking to Juan - who was sitting just by me - and whilst at first mistaking him for an israeli (!). It turned out he was from Buenos Aires, making his way north to Mexico. A great character, quite young (showing my age now :-) but already a seasoned traveller by now, having spent the last few years working near Munich for six months, 12-14 hours a day, and then going off to see the world for the remaining half of the year. Gat talking about politics, economy, dangers of travelling (theft and such)  - all of which he found a little exasperating, can't blame him, I get a little exasperating at times :-) - but he was kind enough to give me some great tips to improve my poor photographic skills, now that I have a proper SLR...

I also met Carolina and Silvia, two charming ladies from Buenos Aires who were simply getting away from it all for five days. I made my way down the valley from Iruya - Juan stayed up there for the night, on his way to Mexico ! - and stopped at Tilcara for the night, together with Silvia and Carol. Wonderful views from this little village with a backfrop of amazing sand-rock formations and great fun in the evening at one of the traditional peñas with local music. Drunk local musicians, good for inctreasing the passion they put into the songs, not so good for the harmony...

The girls were king enough to invite me to latch on for their last day before they went backhome and accompany them on a little excursion with local friends from Jujuy to a lovely little lake on the outskirts of the city we all had a great time. Wonderful to meet such hospitable and welcoming people on arrival, it certainly makes a whole difference to how and what you experience from a place.

I am starting to get more familiarised with the new camera and less shy/extra-careful at taking it out and start shooting away. Hopefully practice will make me better, although it is going to be a steep learning curve for sure.

Francisco, Marta and myself bid farewell to the two ladies as they left in the bus to Baires.  I stayed in Jujuy for the night, taking the benefit of the morning to visit the centre a little - which I hadn't done the previous day.

A nice little place, bustling with activity, a few outstanding buildings here and there too. In general towns here clearly have a longer history than Buenos Aires. In fact all this area (Jujuy, Salta) had been settled by the Spaniards at the end of the XVI and XVII centuries to supply the growing demand for resources they faced in the economic heartland of the Empire, Potosí with its gargantuan silver mines, and even Lima as the only official port for the export of the silver. Links to the smaller settlements that were being erected on the east coast of the continent were also important - including the small colony of Buenos Aires of course.

The is possibly a much stronger sense of history in this region, linked in many ways to the greater presence and importance it had during colonial times. The people, the architecture and even certain traditions hark back to that time rather than the later XIX century, which are much more evident in Buenos Aires for example.

Very interesting for me and as I said before, there is a thread linking my visit to Bolivia, and especially the south - Salar de Uyuní and all that - which is just over the border here. In comparison Buenos Aires is even more the "European city that drifted to South America" than I even thought when I was there.

I am now in Salta, having organized a three day tour of the surrouding area - much to see ! - although even here, the tourist capital of the region, it wasn't so easy to find the right excursions, due to the lack of people !

Comments and photos to follow :-)