Argentina: Salta

A few weeks ago I purposefully decided not to go to Salta.

It wasn't that I didn't want to go to there, it was just that I had to decide where I was going after my tour of the Bolivian salt flats: into Chile's San Pedro or into Argentina's Salta. I chose the former.

But when I was sitting in Cordoba and looking at my map, and the amount of time I had left, it didn't make sense to head on to Rosario and then Buenos Aires. There were more places I could visit in the time available.

After my skydive, I wanted more adrenaline. I researched bungee jumping in Argentina and found out that Salta is one of the few places that does it. It also offers a more simplified route in Paraguay than Cordoba does, and by that time I had decided to go to Paraguay.

In the event I never did do a bungee in Salta, but I don't regret going there at all.

Sam and I arrived in the modern bus station early in the morning after our even-more-luxurious-than-the-previous-cama-suite journey up from Cordoba.

The Argentinians really know how to travel in style. The seats-cum-beds were spongy, wide and incredibly comfortable. The food was plentiful, as was the wine, and the bus was staffed by great blokes who made you feel like a first class business executive, rather than just another gringo backpacker.

Here's Sam getting 40 winks:

We hadn't booked any accommodation so walked to a place recommended in our guidebook, the Terra Oculta hostel. We got a decent welcome from the women that ran it, saw it had a ping pong table and a rooftop bar, and our decision to stay was made.

We were shown to a fairly basic room in the labyrinth basement and appeared to be just about the only guests there. Hey ho.

After a shower we took a walk through town - a pretty colonial centre featuring squares with orange trees and some majestic buildings:

We sat on the main square, ignored the constant stream of shoe-shiners trying to sell us a trainer-shine, and had a beer. The sun was out and it was good to be in a new place for the weekend.

After the drink we walked to a restaurant recommended in our books and sat down to sample some of Salta's famous local delicacies. It was another reason I wanted to go to the city - Salta is supposed to have some of the best food in Argentina.

We ordered some empanadas to start - perfect little half moons of pastry with some moreish fillings - and locro for our mains.

Locro can be found in other parts of Argentina, but originates from Salta and its outlying regions. It is a stew made up of corn, vegetables and meat - and it looks like this:

It was a great feed, washed down with a bottle of the local Salta beer, and the restaurant itself was just as the guidebook described it: 'good local food in airy surroundings.' Result.

After lunch we were wandering through town, asleep because of siesta, and bumped into an Australian couple called Matt and Ali who I'd first met in Valparaiso. It turns out that they had been in their hostel bedroom earlier in the day when they'd heard my voice.

Sam and I were concerned that our hostel was a bit dead for a weekend party so had spent time that morning looking for an alternative.

Unbeknown to us, we had walked into Matt and Ali's hostel, decided it wasn't better than ours, and walked out. By the time they came out of their room to say hello, we had disappeared.

In the street we shared stories of where we'd been since leaving Valpo and arranged to go out later that night.

For the rest of the afternoon we decided to take in a better view of the city, from on high. Cable cars have become a bit of a theme of my travels out here, so it seemed an obvious way to kill a few hours and get away from the city streets.

The cable car station was an attractive old building with stained glass windows:

The cars themselves - Swiss made - were ponderously slow, but we eventually inched our way to the front of the queue and took the 10 minute ride up to the top.

Just as we got up there, the weather god played a trick on us and blocked out the sun with clouds. It was a bit chilly so we had a quick drink, got a couple of snaps when the sun peaked his head out...

...and headed back down.

I asked Sam to take a pic of me on the descent and, the cheeky man that he is, he took this:

I like that picture. The poor woman was oblivious to being snapped, and oblivous to now being in this blog. Gawd bless 'er.

At the bottom we decided to head back to the hostel, where I somehow managed to beat Sam at ping pong. And soon it was evening - time to go and find some fun.

The others had heard of a place out of town that a) had good food and b) hosted impromptu peña music. Peña, and the version of it called folclore, is South American folk music played by bands usually containing at least one guitarist, a drummer and some other instruments.

We got a cab there and walked out to find an attractive colonial building housing several rooms busy with people, and a central courtyard. It was properly rustic (rather than faux-rustic), and it was easy to see why it was packed. 

We luckily squeezed into a table in the furthest room, got some red wine and ordered a pardilla - an Argentinian meat-fest.

When it eventually arrived, along with chips and salad, we dived in and ate several types of meat. There were pork fillets, beef, sausages, black pudding and other stuff that I struggled to identify.

By this time a couple of girls from our hostel had arrived, following an invitation we gave them earlier. They actually turned out to be a couple of oddballs, and I was kind of relieved to be on the opposite end of the table from them.

On the way out of the restaurant we finally saw some men and women playing an impromptu bout of peña:

After dinner we got back in a cab and asked him to take us to a street where all of Salta's nightlife is condensed. We got there to find three or four blocks exclusively housing peña restaurants, bars and clubs. Party time.

We decided on a peña place, and it turned out to be a good'un.

It was a large dining hall with row upon row of tables facing a raised stage. On stage, a trio of men had just started their set. We took a table by the side of the stage, ordered some Cuba Libres and continued our night.

Hanging out with Matt and Ali again was fun - a top, top couple who always seem up for a laugh.

We spotted a strange couple of album covers on the wall - seemingly a beardy man who looked not dissimilar to Pavarotti and a small boy, or girl sitting by his side. There was something about these images that didn't seem right, but I'll leave you to make your own mind up:

The band on stage were really good. Excellent vocals, expert guitar playing, and hummable tunes. The Aussies even bought one of their CDs. At times, some traditionally-dressed dancers came out and performed between the tables and the stage:

At about 3am, once the band had finished, we left to find somewhere else. A club on the corner, Amnesia, had another live band but was a bit of a meat market and not the best place I've ever visited.

We eventually left there, found a small club round the corner and spent the last hour of the night there dancing badly and meeting locals. Sam looks pleased with his lot:

Saturday was Champions League Final day.

I went and bought my bus ticket for the following day, got some food and headed back to the hostel to watch the match. Sam (a United fan) and I watched it with a few locals who were unsurprisingly supporting Barca (Messi, Mascherano etc).

The Barca performance was one of the best I'd ever seen by a football team. Awesome, and deserved winners.

That night Sam and I went out to try more local food dishes (it had turned into a bit of a foodie weekend) and rocked up at a restaurant that always seemed to be packed out each time we'd passed it.

We ordered humitas and tamarilas to start: corn-wrapped bundles of maize, potato, cheese, meat and other stuff. Tasty.

For the mains, Sam went for lentils and bacon and I had rabbit stew. It was another superb Salta meal - perfect setting, good service, nice presentation, excellent food and quality beer. What else do you need? And all for about a fiver.

We had flung our collective bolts the previous night, so had an early one on Saturday - and besides, we had arranged a mountain-bike ride for the morning. Not sensible with a hangover.

The reason I didn't do a bungee in Salta was that the one place where people do it - off a bridge into a river - was experiencing very high water levels at the time. Instead of a 40m jump, it would only have been 25m. There just didn't seem much point in doing such a short jump.

Instead, we decided to do a bike ride in the 'rainforest' outside the city. It's not really rainforest, more like the Yungas I'd previously experienced in Bolivia, but we were both looking forward to a bit of nature time after the previous few weeks we'd spent in cities.

We were picked up by Francesco, who runs the company MTB Salta, and he drove us for about 30 minutes to the start of the trail.

He was a nice guy leading a busy life. Running his own business (rated No.1 of Things To Do In Salta on TripAdvisor), getting married in the summer and trying to sell his car all at the same time.

Before we emailed late on Saturday, the Sunday was going to be his day off, but he needed the money - and we wanted the ride.

We ended up cycling for about two hours on gravel tracks, through farmland and across streams.

At one point I had to put my foot down, and did it at the worst possible moment - right in the middle of a stream. Nice work Foges.

We stopped a few times to take a breather and get some photos. Unfortunately there was no river as the rainy season is behind us, but it was still quite atmospheric as we cycled further and further into the yungas.

On the way back we had some good downhill sections and some tricky rocks that we had to overcome. It was a challenging ride, but it felt great to be doing some exercise and out in the fresh air away from the city.

After we got back I packed, had a great lunch of lomitos and empanadas, and then walked to go and get my bus to Paraguay.

Salta didn't give us the full-on party time like we'd experienced in Cordoba, but it probably did our bodies some good to take it a bit easier for a change - and we actually did some exercise. Woohoo.

Next up, I was heading off the gringo trail - to Asuncion.


Here's a few more photos from Salta:

This is what I spent most of my time in Salta doing: eating

Cable car and Salta beyond

Great band. Ali fancied the singer

Matt saying hello

Up in the hills near Salta