To continue with the story of our adventures in Argentina from where we left off.
After excursions in Bariloche and San Martin de los Andes, we returned to Buenos Aires and were reunited with Katya and her friend Nick who is visiting from the States. The days’ plan was to go to a market in the San Telmo neighborhood, and then go to the airport to catch a flight to Salta (all four of us now). Our plans were thwarted once again, as it started to rain torrentially. We managed to go to San Telmo while the rain let up a bit, but then it started coming down even harder. As an aside, the Argentines had been busy celebrating the 200 year anniversary of their independence culminating on the 25th of May, but filled with other celebrating prior to that. The big party in Buenos Aires was on Sunday, the 23rd, when the torrential rains were going on. The party went on either way.
We returned to the apartment to gather our stuff and go to the airport. The rain was falling in sheets. We walked the block from the apartment to the large street where taxis typically cruise. Sewage was spilling from manhole covers with an overwhelmed system from the rain, which was disgusting. Condoms and steaks were prevalent among other unidentifiable debris. The smell did not overpower our senses, though. We stood at a bus stop due to an awning and tried to catch a cab for about half an hour. Surprisingly, not that many cabs were around. Our efforts were thwarted two times by taxi drivers. One time they just didn’t stop, and the other time the cab driver informed us that the road to the airport has been flooded and that he is not going to take us there. We returned back to the apartment to verify that the airport is still functioning and whether there are other means of getting there. We called the airport and they couldn’t tell us whether the airport was closed, but flights were definitely delayed by at least an hour. The airline could not inform us either way. So, we regrouped and went down to the street again and after about 5 minutes and some strategizing, we finally caught a cab.
At the airport, all flights were delayed and some were canceled. People were milling around and setting in for the long haul. We checked in for our flight, checked in our luggage and waited. After about an hour, we realized that the status of our flight has changed and that it is scheduled to depart in 45 minutes. No gate was assigned though. About 20 minutes prior to the announced departure, we decided to find out if the plane is actually leaving, and Katya was sent to investigate. She returned shortly to inform us that all flights were canceled for the evening, seeing as there was a crash landing of a small private jet on the runway (no one was hurt) and that all flights had to be rescheduled. We gathered our belongings, and got into an enormous line of people. The ticket desk only had 3 or 4 people working, and the line was going to be very long. We were told that tickets could not be changed over the phone. However, we decided to try the phone anyway. Katya called and after about 5 minutes were booked on the 6:30 AM flight out the next morning. Incredulous and pleased with ourselves, we informed some of our fellow travelers in the line about the possibility of changing the flight by phone only to be told that they’ve already invested some time into standing and that they prefer not to call. Their loss.
Then we stood in another line to retrieve our checked luggage and after 3 hours at the airport returned back to the apartment. We arrived at the airport again before dawn (the sun rises very late in the winter there due to a lack of daylight savings time) and checked in for our flight. While in the waiting area at the gate, the plane was delayed by another hour. We were informed that the delay stemmed from their inability to evenly distribute the luggage weight on the plane. A large portion of the passengers were already lined up at the gate, and some were exchanging some heated words with the airline employees at the desk. We were tired and did not participate. We did overhear the following exchange though:
Passenger, “I’ve spent the last 12 hours at the airport and haven’t slept all night trying to get on this flight, while you just came from your nice bed at home all well rested…”
Then suddenly all the people in the line started clapping loudly. It was not a celebratory type of clap, but slower and meaner. It was a solidarity clap to support the yelling that was being done by one of the dissatisfied travelers. This led to them hastily calling boarding and we were on our way to Salta, leaving only 1.5 hours after the scheduled departure.
Upon arrival in Salta, everyone crowded around the luggage conveyor belt and waited for their bags only to be informed that none of the luggage was loaded onto the airplane. We suspect that the airline just decided not to deal with it any longer and that was the deal. People were flabbergasted by this, we stood in line a bit more, filed some paperwork, heard some crying, and decided not to wait around for our luggage which was supposedly arriving on the next flight. Then we took a cab to Salta, picked up our rented car and drove north to see the beautiful landscape, purchase some sweaters, eat some delicious empanadas, try cured llama meat, and return to Salta the next evening. Much to our surprise, our luggage did arrive at the airport and we were fortunate enough to pick it up.
The environs of Salta were stunningly, and dramatically beautiful. We first drove through a rainforest, which changed into a mountainous desert north of the city of San Salvador de Jujuy (also known as Jujuy). We stopped by the village of Purnamarca, where at the main square there were about 40 merchants selling the same 20 items. We stocked up on some sweaters with llamas on them. Thereafter, we drove a bit more north and stayed at the village of Tilcara, where we bought more sweaters. At this point every one of us had a llama sweater made from alpaca (a relative of llamas but with much softer wool).
The next day we walked around Tilcara and watched the festivities in honor of the bicentennial, and then drove high to the salt flats of Salinas Grandes over an Andean overpass of 4,500 meters (or 14,000 feet). The Salinas Grandes were stunning and led to some fun optical perspective illusions. The rest of the day was spent driving back to Salta through numerous small villages over paved and dirt roads. We were stopped 3 times at security checkpoints. The gendarmia was very pleasant and just wanted to see our passports.
The next day we left for our very pleasant stay at an estancia (basically a ranch) called Finca Santa Anita, which was located about 1.5 hours from the city of Salta by public bus. We rode horses, plotted the plans for our own estancia, ate great cheese, and just relaxed. We befriended a boy named Franco at the estancia, who lived there with his mother who was a cook. He was 7 years old and full of information and very willing to explain things to us.
The next day we returned to Salta and then returned to Buenos Aires.
