If yesterday was about scenery, then today was all about culture. I don’t even know where to begin.
Like I said earlier, we started off VERY early today – 7 a.m. – and embarked on a four-hour journey, our final destination being Humahuaca, a small town that’s north of Salta and less than 200 kilometers from Bolivia. I napped during the first part of the trip, but I awoke to a breathtaking (and ear-popping) view of clouds settling around the Occidental and Oriental Mountains. Pretty soon, the clouds lifted and we were treated to the sight of a formation known as the Seven Color Rock, which is exactly what it sounds like.
Our next major stop was to the town of Tilcara, which has made it on to my list of the top five things we’ve done so far. I don’t know how to describe this town other than the word “indigenous.” The locals are selling their handmade crafts through the streets, and there are stray but healthy dogs everywhere (I’ve failed to mention this in my other posts, but Argentina is swarming with stray dogs. They are friendly, seem to be healthy, and absolutely adorable, but on any given day, we see dozens running around the towns and cities. In fact, we had one that joined us on our walk back from the karaoke bar the other night). But the real reward sits on the outskirts of Tilcara. Towering meters above the town is a trail leading to Incan remains. Christian said that the Incans stayed in Tilcara for a very short amount of time – no more than 50 years – but their homes and formations are fairly well-reserved. We climbed to the top, were able to go inside the houses, and had an incredible panoramic views of the mountains surrounding us. I’ve always wanted to visit Incan and Mayan remains, so this was definitely a pleasant surprise.
After leaving Tilcara, we noticed a ceremony along the side of the road, being held in celebration of the summer solstice (the longest day of the year!). The natives were honoring the sun gods, and although we couldn’t get too close to the celebration out of respect, we were able to look around the booths that were set up. The festivities were being held along the line of the Tropic of Capricorn, so we were able to stand on the imaginary line.
When we left, Christian was explaining how the indigenous people are usually very poor, and sometimes the children have to walk eight to twelve hours to school. He said that there was one small boy whose family was very poor. He lived with his father, and his mother passed away six years ago. There is a high percentage of violence between family members in this area, so there was a chance that he had been abused. Almost every day, he would walk over the mountain, wait behind bushes, and when a car passed by, he would come out and try to sell some handcrafted pottery. He said he was very shy, but he asked that if he was there, we buy something from him to support his family and the locals. Sure enough, when we drove by, a little boy around the age of 10 emerged from the bushes carrying a basket of pottery. He was very polite but extremely shy, not once looking up at us. His situation brought tears to my eyes. We all purchased something from him, and the vase that I got is by far the most valuable thing I’ve bought.
An hour later, we finally reached Humahuaca, which is a picturesque town with narrow cobblestone roads and dozens of merchants. We ate a lunch of empanadas, quinoa, llama or goat (I had the goat stew, in case you were wondering. Luckily, I didn’t find any hairs in it this time), and goat cheese and candied fruit for dessert. It was interesting the say the least, but the goat was actually really good. Afterward, we got a quick lesson by a local professor in how to tell whether the weavings, furs, and stones that the locals were selling were real or industrial. One of the most interesting things that we learned was that all of the weavings tell a story. For example, the number of lines on one section tells how many children the family has. Another pattern might tell what the family does for a living. But we noticed that amidst the pattern was a small section that didn’t match any other part of the blanket. When we asked about it, the professor said that it was to remind the families that they were flawed and did not compare to God.
We shopped for an hour, and then we started our long drive back to Salta. One nap, one rest stop, and countless road games later, we found ourselves stuck in a traffic jam. We then realized that the highway was littered with locals who were celebrating the return of the champion soccer team. People were waving enormous national flags and shooting fireworks from their car windows (we’ve been hearing a continuous honking of car horns all night). The team had abandoned their buses and relocated to the back of a truck, celebrating alongside the locals. It was a very cool ending to the day.
Tomorrow, we leave for Mendoza a.k.a. wine country (hello 18-hour bus ride). We have the Andes mountains and many wine tours to look forward to. Mendoza is THE place to go for wine, but it’s going to be hard to beat that Torrontés wine I had yesterday.
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