bought but it was delicious.
We spent the next day walking some of the Circuito Chico which was really pleasant as we were practically the only ones there. We took a bus to and from the main part of the walk in the national park which saved us a fortune as we didn't need to take an organised tour. That evening we took advantage of the hostel kitchen and cooked some pasta along with some of the local sausages. I got a bit carried away though and there was enough for about six people so I donated the remains of it to the communal fridge. Hopefully someone enjoyed it.
We had a long journey the following day as we were heading to Buenos Aires on the bus so we stocked up on a small supply of chocolate to keep us going. Actually it wasn't that small a supply, but we savoured every mouth full. The bus we booked was one of the long distance buses that Argentina does so well. We got seats on executive class which I thought just meant that the seats reclined further enabling a better night's sleep. Oh no! We had the full service; TV screens showing recent films, meals bought to us on trays along with wine and blankets and pillows when it was time for sleep. I wasn't prepared for all this and least of all when we were offered Champagne or whisky after dinner. All that was missing was a roulette table and fine cigars but since I don't smoke or gamble I didn't feel too deprived. What a way to travel, half the cost of a flight and no need to book a hotel for the night. Bargain.
It was boiling in Buenos Aires and the twenty minute walk to the hotel carrying a 25 Kg rucksack was horrible, especially since we couldn't check in until 2pm. All I wanted was a shower but the best I got was to wash my sweaty face.
Walking around town we headed to an old antiques market to soak up a bit of atmosphere and stumbled across a little corner where a couple of septogenarians were dancing a tango. It's a really lovely thing to see as it's so passionate and romantic. The old boy was leading his partner while she moved around him with almost feline, fluid grace. It was really touching. The music really set the scene but it was a little sad to see a huge amplifier linked up to a complicated sound mixing desk by a tangle of wires just to create the sound of a lovely old gramophone. The bloke operating it spent a large portion of his time just trying to make it all work. I don't know why he didn't just learn to play the accordian and have done with it.
In the evening we sought out a place for dinner that Rich had seen listed somewhere that claimed to be a traditional British pub. What a find! We got talking to the barman, a big bald bloke from Durham, and started griping about how bland Argentinian food is in general. They're pretty timid about eating spicy food so it was great to see chicken curry on the menu. The barman used to be a chef so knew a thing or two about food and things looked promising. We placed our order for a curry each and the bloke gave strict instructions to the chef to 'make it Englishman hot'. That's exactly what we got and it was brilliant, it really pushed the right buttons. We stayed for a couple beers and tried the locally brewed ale which was quite pleasant until the barman told us it was about 8%. I had a raging headache for the rest of the night and went to bed with a bottle of water and a couple of Neurofen.
Rich decided to use the bidet that evening but the hot tap got stuck on. Luckily he didn't scorch anything delicate but the next day the bathroom was like a sauna. A bloke came to fix it later in the day as well has the hot tap on the sink and the pathetic flow from the shower. He was banging and clanking away for over an hour and eventually came out chirpily telling me it was 'Listo', meaning ready. Indeed the sauna was no more but the tap still didn't work and the
shower still dribbled so plumbers are pretty much the same the world over. I'm just glad I wasn't paying him for his time.
During the day we explored the city and did all the usual things. The Casa Rosada where Evita addressed the adoring crowds was smaller than I had imagined it but pretty nonetheless. The cathedral was pretty impressive but I wasn't overly enamoured by the rather bland obelisk that stands proudly in the Plaza de la Republica right in the heart of the ridiculously wide Avenida 9 de Julio.
On the third day we made a visit to the small chapel and cemetery where Evita's family mausoleum is. I was stunned to see how small and unassuming it is given how she is such a huge figure in Argentina's history. The diminutive structure rests between hundreds of others and could quite easily go unnoticed if it weren't for the scores of tour groups clamouring round it trying to take photos without their reflections showing in the austere, shiny black marble. Given how poor the Argentines have been in the past it must be quite a slap in the face to see these upper classes spending so much money building huge and elaborate memorials to their dearly departed.
That evening we decided to treat ourselves to a good meal in one of the numerous parillas dotted around the city. We chose to go to one that Rich had been to before in 2004 and it was the right choice. We started off with empanadas and sausages which was then followed by the biggest pair of steaks I'd ever seen. These things filled the plates that the waiter carted over to us and tasted superb. Along with the salad, plate of chips and huge bowl of ice cream afterwards I thought I was going to pop. Those gauchos really know how to fill someone up. The waiters were great, too. Most of them looked way past retirement age and were decked out in white shirts, bowties and waitcoats and shuffled around like they were on their last legs. Don't get me wrong, there were no airs and graces in this joint, it was just plain old school and I loved it. There was a small group of younger waiters huddled together by the till chatting idly and I couldn't help wondering whether they would still be working in that place when they reached the same age as the old timers. They probably would be and I doubt much will have changed in the place by then. There would probably still be the whole lambs spreadeagled on spikes and cooking over a firepit in the window along with the medieval looking rack hoisted up on chains and cooking the steaks, sausages and ribs. And, I expect, the two sweaty chefs manning the whole operation and drawing in the slavvering crowds from the street. Wonderful!
Iguazú was our next stop, albeit a brief one. Again the overnight bus was superb, though this time we had the champagne and whisky nightcap. I don't know what possessed us to turn it down on the previous bus, shock I suppose. Anyway, on reaching iguazú we checked into the hostel quickly and then took a bus straight away to the falls. It was only a little local bus so was full of all sorts of characters. One young woman, more than generously proportioned, stepped onto the bus and paid for her ticket but she didn't use a purse to keep her money in. Instead she reached deep into her bra and pulled out a perfectly folded but filthy looking 20 peso note. The driver took it from her, holding it by the corner to avoid too much finger contact, and slung it in his money drawer. I'd never seen that before, other than in comedy films, but nobody said a word so I guess it's quite common here. Luckily I wasn't likely to get that note back in my change.
Calling Iguazú just a waterfall is an understatement as this place is spectacular. It is immense and the roar of water rushing over it is astounding, in fact the only thing there that was louder was a group of oversized Americans shouting things like "Yeah man, that's what I'm talkin' about" every time they got a bit of spray on them. Why they have to announce their presence to everyone is beyond me, but it's very rare to meet a quiet one.
The mist created by the gushing water creates dozens of rainbows, some of them brightly coloured, others just an arc of pure white light hovering above the watery fog. It's wonderful to watch but the light reflected off of it can be quite blinding.
We only stayed in the town one night ad there's not a lot else to see there so we took a bus to Salta. The only one running meant that we didn't get executive seats this time and Oh what a difference. It was horrible. The seats were cramped, they didn't recline fully and driver insisted playing his Latin American rap music really loudly to everyone's annoyance. It was only when Rich got up and shouted at him to turn the racket down that things got slightly better. We were given a meal of some cold rice and a scraggy bit of old chicken covered in crumbs and fried which was also cold. The best thing about it was a child sized carton of ice cold orange-flavoured drink covered in pictures of Lisa Simpson. It was like a bad school dinner. Somehow I just knew the champagne would not be on offer on that bus. The ridiculous thing is just how little difference there is between the price of executive and bargain-basement.
Salta is a great city. After an initial mix up with the hostels we ended up staying in a very interesting area where a certain type of 'lady' would stake out her corner of the street and meet lots of male 'friends'. They would then disappear for about thirty minutes before the woman would return again to meet another 'friend'. It didn't bother me that much apart from the constant clacking of the heels of their knee length white boots on the pavement in the early hours of the morning.
We had a walk around the city on the first afternoon there and soon found ourselves sitting outside a cafe in the main square drinking beer and eating empanadas. For a plate of twelve plus a litre of beer it only cost us 29 pesos (about £6) which was a right bargain. The city is small enough to easily walk around and there's a good mix of modern and colonial buildings. We tottered into a tour agency to see what was on offer and quickly parted with a fair wad of cash for an excursion the following day. This took us up into the mountains, the first part of which was following the track of El Tren a las Nubes or The Train to the Clouds. We drove through some pretty amazing desert like scenery where the hillsides were dotted with huge Cardones. These are massive cactus like plants that look very much like those things you see in Westerns. I was amazed to find out they can live for up to 500 years. We also visited a village called Testil where the villagers were doing a roaring trade in selling their wares to the cash laden tourists. I bought a couple of small bits which I don't usually do but the locals were so friendly and happy. Their simple little nic-naks were mostly llama products either knotted or woven from the wool but were really nice.
As we carried on increasing altitude the driver pulled out a big bag of coca leaf and started offering it around. The idea is that you chew it a bit and then just rest it between your cheeks and gums. It's a mild stimulant that is supposed to prevent, or at least help, altitude sickness. It's perfectly legal in Argentina but shortly after taking it we started to feel very happy, even giggly at the height of it. It would have been quite a pleasant experience if it didn't taste so foul. Luckily I'm not an athlete because apparently you can test positive for cocaine for weeks afterwards! We eventually reached Salinas Grandes which is a huge salt pan and quite pectacular in its bleakness. There was kilometre after kilometre of completely flat ground surrounded by mountains and it was totally encrusted in thick, blindingly white salt crystals. You could feel the sun reflecting off of it and it would have burned us in minutes had we not basted ourselves in factor 25. Sunglasses were essential and when you took them off to take a photo you could really feel the hardness of the reflected sunlight. No wonder the salt miners working there were covered head to toe, even in the searing heat.
The scenery just got better and better and on the way back we passed a place called The Mountains of Seven Colours. I'm usually quite sceptical about names like that as they're often exaggerated but these were absolutely spectacular. It was about 5 o'clock in the afternoon so the sun was a bit lower causing the colours to be even more vibrant. There were reds, greens, yellows, blues, purples and more and it was so vivid. It was a long day but thoroughly worth the journey to see so much amazing scenery.
We're now on another bus heading towards Mendoza. It is, of course, executive class but not nearly as comfortable as the previous company. This one has leather seats which sound nice but in reality I kept sliding down it all night and hardly slept a wink as the blanket was more like a wide scarf. We only got one glass of wine, too and NO champagne. What is the world coming to? Still, Mendoza is a major wine producing area of Argentina to I expect we'll have all the 'vino tinto' we can manage.
Bring it on!
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