24 - Run Llama Run (Salta)

Cachí to Salta, ARGENTINA - 18 february 2003

The route from Cachí to Salta is along another legendarily spectacular highway. We passed by Parque Nacional de Cardones which was a flattish area entirely grown with candelabra cacti. Then, after the highest peak, Piedra del Molino, about 3600m, I was suddenly looking down at a very winding road through green mountains. It was another surreal scene. I love being above the clouds. The winding route, Cuesta de Obispo, had many treacherous curves downhill and we had to go slow.

By the time we reached the bottom of the mountains, along Quebrada de Escoipe, the vegetation had changed from grassy shrubs to tall, sub-tropical trees and we soon turned into Salta.

Salta is a rather pleasant and unassuming city. I liked it. Not in-your-face beautiful but pleasant enough. The city has a very cosy feel, with a hill, a huge park and a pleasant plaza right in the busy centre. And now that we are at the northern bit of Argentina, the locals here are predominantly Indian-looking.



Salta, ARGENTINA - 19 February, 2003

There had been a whole bunch of sights suggested by the earnest staff at the tourist office but no, after so many hot, dusty, giddy, windy roads lately, I just wanted to take it easy in Salta today.

I ended up shopping for books, and if I may add, books in Spanish, to practise later in my life if I ever become more proficient.

I had actually been attempting to read a book in Spanish the last few days - Historias de Cronopios y de Famas [Stories of Cronopios and Famas] by another Buenos Aires genius, Julio Cortázar.

Whenever I mentioned to the other Argentinians that I was struggling with this book, they all agreed it would be very, very, VERY tough for me.

Well, tough as it is, it is such a sweet book, I just have to share it with you. Allow me to attempt to translate two of my favourite little tales (amongst the very few that I managed to complete). If they sound whimsical, it is not due to bad translation. If they sound like bad translation, it is due to bad translation… it’s me.


--- Travels - by Julio Cortázar, translated by me, with BIG apologies to fans ---

When the Famas travel, their customs to spend a night in a city are the following: One Fama goes to the hotel and ascertains cautiously the prices, the quality of the bed-sheets and the colour of the carpets. The second goes to the commissariat and declares all the assets of the three, like the inventory of the contents in their suitcases. The third Fama goes to the hospital and copies the list of doctors and their specialties.

Upon finishing these tasks diligently, the travellers reunite at the main plaza of the city, inform one another about their observations and enter a café to drink an aperitif. But before, they hold hands and dance in a circle. This dance is given the name ‘Happiness of the Famas’.

When the Cronopios travel, they find hotels full, trains that have already left, that it rains like cats and dogs, and the taxis do not want to take them or charge them very high prices. The Cronopios are not disheartened because they believe firmly that these things happen to all, and at the hour of sleeping, they tell one another, “The beautiful city, the very beautiful city.” And they dream all night that in the city, there are great fiestas and that they are invited. The next day, they wake up very contented and this is how the Cronopios travel.

The Esperanzas, sedentary, leave travelling to the men, and are like statues that people come to see, for they cannot be bothered.


--- Business - by Julio Cortázar, translated by me, with even BIGGER apologies to fans ---

The Famas had set up a factory of garden hoses and employed many Cronopios to do the rolling and storage. As soon as the Cronopios were at the place of work, they became very, very happy. There were green, red, blue, yellow and violet garden hoses. They were transparent and upon testing them, one could see running water with all the bubbles and at times, a surprised insect. The Cronopios started to shout and wanted to dance tregua and dance catala instead of working. The Famas were furious with them and applied the following articles 21, 22 and 23 of the internal rules to avoid a repetition of these bad jobs.

However, the Famas are very careless, the Cronopios waited for favourable circumstances and carried many garden hoses off in a car. When they met a little girl, they cut a piece of the blue garden hose and gave it to her so that she could jump with the garden hose. So, in all the street-corners, one started to see lovely blue and transparent bubbles, with a little girl inside like a squirrel in a cage. The parents of the little girl aspired to take away the garden hose in order to water the garden, but one knew that the astute Cronopios had punctured the hoses such that water would drop out from them and they serve no purpose. In the end, the parents became tired and the little girl went back to the street-corner and jumped and jumped.

With the yellow garden hoses, the Cronopios adorned diverse monuments, and with the green garden hoses, they made traps of African type in the middle of the pathway, in order to see the Esperanzas fall one by one. All around the fallen Esperanzas, the Cronopios danced tregua and danced catala, and the Esperanzas reproached them for their action, saying: “Cruel Cronopios bloody. Cruel!”

The Cronopios, who desired no harm to the Esperanzas, helped them up and gave them pieces of the red garden hoses. So the Esperanzas could go to their houses and complete the most intense of their yearnings: to water their green gardens with red garden hoses.

The Famas closed the factory and gave a banquet full of funereal speeches, with waiters serving the fish in great whispers. And they did not invite any Cronopio, and only those Esperanzas who had not fallen in the traps in the pathway, because the others who did were left with pieces of garden hoses and the Famas were angry with these Esperanzas.

------

Now, don’t they leave you slightly stupefied but grinning?



Salta, ARGENTINA - 20 february 2003

I signed up for a day-tour to visit the areas north of Salta. The morning today was, however, rainy and cloudy. The other tourists in my tour were Tom and Jenny from France.

My guide, Billy, wanted to do the route the reverse direction so that we would arrive at Purmamarca in the morning and be able to see the Seven-Colours Mountain with the sun shining right at them. He hoped that we would get the sun by then, that is.

We took the scenic mountainous route, Route 9, also called the Cornisa (all the roads along this region seemed to have fancy names), to San Salvador de Jujuy, the capital of Jujuy Province. The vegetation here was luscious, sub-tropical thick forests, dripping with ferns and climbers. This was a really old route used by the Indians and had apparently existed for a thousand years.

Along the route, there were shrines set up for ‘saint-like’ heroes, one of them being Gauchito Gil, to pray for safe journeys. Sometimes, the drivers left things like spare tyres, bottles of water, extra stuff they did not need, for the next driver who might need them.

Soon, we arrived at Purmamarca but alas, the sun still remained behind the clouds and we could not get the brilliance of the colours of the Seven-Colours Mountain so famous in all the postcards. Purmamarca is the little Andean town set right against the mountain, all the houses were of the adobe sort. Very photogenic.

We climbed further up from 2000+m to 4000+m in the following section of the route. Here, Billy thought that we would see the sun once we cleared the cloud-layer and reach altiplano [high plains]. To our surprise, after clearing the cloud-layer, there was ANOTHER cloud-layer above the altiplano. Now, this was impossible to clear and so, the elusive sun remained hidden from us.

The altiplano was a plateau at around 4000m and it was flattish, dry desert all the way. In the distance, we could see the white colour of the salt-pan. Approaching the salt-pan, known as Salinas Grande, I could see from the windscreen of the car, one side was entirely grey with a brewing storm and the other was slightly cloudy but with pockets of blue sky.

Usually, there were workers working on the salt-pan but due to the coming storm, all had cleared out. So, we arrived to an abandoned salt mining site. The salt-pan had strange hexagon shapes on the plains. The edges of the hexagon shapes were crumbles of raw salt crystals. There were some blue pools of water where salt crystals were formed and where the mining was done.

I had expected strong harsh rays famous of the altiplano sun and blinding whiteness reflected from the mirror-like salt pans and had prepared to slather myself with sunscreen, but not today, honey. There was nothing bright here. Instead, we managed a few photos before being pelted by the storm and raged by the strong, cold wind, and had to scramble back into the car and flee.

Billy strongly recommended us to visit Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia which was five times the size of Salinas Grande and even more impressive. Yes, I K-N-O-W… but I cannot go to Bolivia. Sigh… Here’s the wound. Here’s the salt-pan. Now rub.

We passed by several llamas on the rest of the desert altiplano before reaching a very sorry-looking, desolate mining town San Antonio de Los Cobres for lunch. We were all more or less suffering slightly from the altitude now. Well, here at the restaurant, they served coca tea and so we ordered the tea to fortify ourselves. I even bought a tiny little toy-llama. So kitsch, I love it.

On our way down, we passed another shrine but this one for Pachamama [Mother Earth]. The Indians who passed by here would leave their bottles of alcohol that they were drinking, some coca leaves, cigarettes, etc… to worship Pachamama and ask for a safe journey. One type of bottles read: PURE ALCOHOL 96%. Gosh, mere mortals like us use 90% alcohol to disinfect wounds. But 96%??!? Imagine drinking that!

We crossed the railway track of the famous ‘Tren a las Nubes’ [Train of the Clouds] several times on our way back to Salta along Quebrada del Toro. This railway track was used more often by regular cargo trains which carried gas and fuel to export to Chile.

Up until now, all the produce from North-east Argentina could not be exported through the ports of Chile. All had to be brought to the Buenos Aires port, on the Atlantic side, although they were physically closer to the ports of Chile. Billy explained that soon this would change and it would be easier to export products out across the Pacific Ocean to Asia and Russia.

Would dulce de leche be one of the products? Dulce de leche? Billy then proceeded to reveal the secret of making dulce de leche.

Boil a pot of water slowly and put the can of sweet condensed milk inside without opening the can. This is called Baño Maria [Maria’s Bath]. Keep the can in the pot of slowly-boiling water for 2 to 3 hours and, voila!, dulce de leche!

My saviour!