I had one free day between my GAP tour of Patagonia and my bus to Salta, one of the most colonial cities in Argentina (in the Northwest corner of the pais). Having already exhausted most of the options in Buenos Aires, I decided to visit the Japanese Gardens in Palermo, to "get away" from the city on my one day there. Hmmm...maybe not a good sign?
The gardens really piqued my interest when I learned that they contained a sushi restaurant. (Sushi!!! Not beef?!) I didn't realize it was Valentine's day until I arrived at the romantic park setting and noticed that I was the only solo chica. Turns out Japanese Gardens and a sushi lunch is a popular pastime for sweethearts. Luckily, I was able to get a table for one, and even better, two Florida girls traveling/studying in BA were seated next to me. After more than a month in the country, I suddenly found myself in the role of expert. And for better or worse, I inspired these girls to make a trip to Iguazu Falls, which they had not been planning on fitting in. The sushi was fabulous!
That first night, I walked to dinner under electric, ominously black clouds threatening to open up at any moment and constant flashes of lighting in the distance. I was a little too early for dinner (only 9 pm), and turns out the restaurant recommended by my guidebook was closed on Mondays, anyhow. The owner happened to be there, so he personally escorted me across the street to his recommended alternative, told the waiter to take good care of me and then casually suggested that we might get a coffee afterward (SNL fans: think subliminal-message man). This was such a surprise that I laughed out loud - oops! Perhaps not the right response.
I was the only one in the restaurant (in fact the kitchen staff was having an early dinner when I arrived), but a local band - two acoustic guitars and a drummer/singer - was warming up to play the music of the altiplano, very pleasant folk songs. Much to my embarrassment, as I applauded the first song, the lead singer asked where I was from and then called for "applauso" from the other musicians and waiters for "Los Estados Unidos." I got over it as other tourists trickled in and he applauded each of their hometowns in turn. Ninety-five percent of them were from Argentina, and I realized that Salta is a major destination for porteños looking for an inexpensive getaway from the big city (everything is much cheaper in the Northwest). I finally gave in to the Argentine cuisine and ordered the bife de lomo (huge tenderloin steak). It was tasty!
It is the rainy season in Salta, and I had heard flood warnings back in BA, but all my days in Salta were sunny, hot and gorgeous.

Salta street scene
Over breakfast, one of the hostel owners arranged a one-day cabalgatas (horseback riding) tour at a nearby estancia (ranch) for me.

Cabalgatas en una estancia

My horse was named Bruja (witch) because she was born on the 31 of October, 2000. La bruja is also the symbol for this particular estancia, La Sayna, and the owner, Enrique, believes firmly in them.
Over the included lunchtime asado - an enormous barbacue spread - and several glasses of wonderful local wine, Enrique (quite a character who has lived all over the Americas and speaks Spanish that I can easily understand) explained that he believes witches are beautiful, not ugly, that they do good, not evil, that they have power over the natural world, that they have power over men, and - did you see this coming? - that all women are witches.
Another day I borrowed the hostel's mountain bike and ventured out into the streets of Salta to the Aduana to mail KD's birthday gift (the successful culmination of three days' worth of effort - an invaluable cultural experience!). Then I headed out the main avenue through scary traffic and discovered a lovely pedestrian/bike trail paralleling the highway to the small neighboring town of San Lorenzo. I liked it so much I took a side detour on a similar path, passing farms, horses and pigs until I was forced to turn around by a herd of bulls smack in the middle of the trail (I've never seen so many horns!).
The15 km from Salta to San Lorenzo is lined with Porteño country clubs. The town itself is just a collection of second-houses in the beautiful countryside. There weren't any "legitimate" restaurants, so I stopped at a sign that said there was food "al fondo" (in the back). I wheeled my bike behind the house and looked up to see 30 strapping, hungry fieldworkers staring back at me. I figured it was too late to turn around, swallowed my embarrassment about being the only woman and the only foreigner/tourist, asked for the bathroom (disgusting hole), and then determined that the safest thing to eat among the dirt, wild dogs and flies were two humitas (one salty, one sweet). Humitas are a lovely Northwest addition to the limited Argentine palate - corn masa steamed in the husk, just like a tamale but without any meat (or anything spicy to top it with, of course). They didn't have any available tables, so the matron in charge ordered a small boy helping to run the family business to bring out a tiny cooking table from the kitchen, which he placed right up front so I was on display. I ate the delicious, fresh humitas, paid 5 pesos (less than $2 USD) including tip, and continued on my way. Am happy to report that my stomach was fine!
The gardens really piqued my interest when I learned that they contained a sushi restaurant. (Sushi!!! Not beef?!) I didn't realize it was Valentine's day until I arrived at the romantic park setting and noticed that I was the only solo chica. Turns out Japanese Gardens and a sushi lunch is a popular pastime for sweethearts. Luckily, I was able to get a table for one, and even better, two Florida girls traveling/studying in BA were seated next to me. After more than a month in the country, I suddenly found myself in the role of expert. And for better or worse, I inspired these girls to make a trip to Iguazu Falls, which they had not been planning on fitting in. The sushi was fabulous!
That night I met my Patagonian-adventure friend Kathryn back at our GAP joining hotel and we walked to dinner at a very upscale Peruvian restaurant recommended by Kapil and Nupi. We shared the cebiche (amazing!) and a rice dish, received complimentary champagne and were each presented with a single red rose at the end of the meal. Wonderful to have a dinner companion on Vday.
Unfortunately, the best departure time for an overnight bus to Salta the next day only left the option of semi-cama (not nearly as luxurious as cama bus service). I had a very uncomfortable, 23-hour bus ride that involved the screening of eight terrible movies, including The Mummy 5, Transporter 3 (which I already had the misfortune of seeing on a bus in Punto Arenas - ack!), and others I have tried to block from my memory.
Things started looking up in Salta, where my hostel (Inti Huasi, just a three-block walk from the bus terminal) was a dream come true - the four live-in owners were incredibly friendly and determined to make my stay in Salta as enjoyable as possible. They talked endlessly about my options, and recommended the perfect activities for my mission that week: to relax, stay away from buses, and stay in one place for more than a couple nights after my fast-paced GAP tour.
That first night, I walked to dinner under electric, ominously black clouds threatening to open up at any moment and constant flashes of lighting in the distance. I was a little too early for dinner (only 9 pm), and turns out the restaurant recommended by my guidebook was closed on Mondays, anyhow. The owner happened to be there, so he personally escorted me across the street to his recommended alternative, told the waiter to take good care of me and then casually suggested that we might get a coffee afterward (SNL fans: think subliminal-message man). This was such a surprise that I laughed out loud - oops! Perhaps not the right response.
I was the only one in the restaurant (in fact the kitchen staff was having an early dinner when I arrived), but a local band - two acoustic guitars and a drummer/singer - was warming up to play the music of the altiplano, very pleasant folk songs. Much to my embarrassment, as I applauded the first song, the lead singer asked where I was from and then called for "applauso" from the other musicians and waiters for "Los Estados Unidos." I got over it as other tourists trickled in and he applauded each of their hometowns in turn. Ninety-five percent of them were from Argentina, and I realized that Salta is a major destination for porteños looking for an inexpensive getaway from the big city (everything is much cheaper in the Northwest). I finally gave in to the Argentine cuisine and ordered the bife de lomo (huge tenderloin steak). It was tasty!
It is the rainy season in Salta, and I had heard flood warnings back in BA, but all my days in Salta were sunny, hot and gorgeous.

Salta street scene
Over breakfast, one of the hostel owners arranged a one-day cabalgatas (horseback riding) tour at a nearby estancia (ranch) for me.

Cabalgatas en una estancia

My horse was named Bruja (witch) because she was born on the 31 of October, 2000. La bruja is also the symbol for this particular estancia, La Sayna, and the owner, Enrique, believes firmly in them.
Over the included lunchtime asado - an enormous barbacue spread - and several glasses of wonderful local wine, Enrique (quite a character who has lived all over the Americas and speaks Spanish that I can easily understand) explained that he believes witches are beautiful, not ugly, that they do good, not evil, that they have power over the natural world, that they have power over men, and - did you see this coming? - that all women are witches.
Another day I borrowed the hostel's mountain bike and ventured out into the streets of Salta to the Aduana to mail KD's birthday gift (the successful culmination of three days' worth of effort - an invaluable cultural experience!). Then I headed out the main avenue through scary traffic and discovered a lovely pedestrian/bike trail paralleling the highway to the small neighboring town of San Lorenzo. I liked it so much I took a side detour on a similar path, passing farms, horses and pigs until I was forced to turn around by a herd of bulls smack in the middle of the trail (I've never seen so many horns!).
The15 km from Salta to San Lorenzo is lined with Porteño country clubs. The town itself is just a collection of second-houses in the beautiful countryside. There weren't any "legitimate" restaurants, so I stopped at a sign that said there was food "al fondo" (in the back). I wheeled my bike behind the house and looked up to see 30 strapping, hungry fieldworkers staring back at me. I figured it was too late to turn around, swallowed my embarrassment about being the only woman and the only foreigner/tourist, asked for the bathroom (disgusting hole), and then determined that the safest thing to eat among the dirt, wild dogs and flies were two humitas (one salty, one sweet). Humitas are a lovely Northwest addition to the limited Argentine palate - corn masa steamed in the husk, just like a tamale but without any meat (or anything spicy to top it with, of course). They didn't have any available tables, so the matron in charge ordered a small boy helping to run the family business to bring out a tiny cooking table from the kitchen, which he placed right up front so I was on display. I ate the delicious, fresh humitas, paid 5 pesos (less than $2 USD) including tip, and continued on my way. Am happy to report that my stomach was fine!
I was impressed by how quickly my wonderful b'day present arrived!! Thank you again! I can't wait to have it framed. You say in your previous post that you are a true "country mouse" - I laugh sometimes, thinking how different our trips would be if I were to journey to that part of the world on MY own. City mouse and country mouse are best of friends. Can't wait to see you soon - besos!
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