El Tren. Departing Tucuman

There aren't many trains in South America, unlike Europe, and i'm a bit of an enthusiast, especially if they are steam. This however was not. An ancient rusting model run on diesel, but i was excited nevertheless. It seemed to stretch out forever, and when i got inside i was immediately transported back in time. This was of the variety we'd get on as kids when we traveled down to Invercargill to visit Granny. Cool and cute i thought. I did wonder about the perspex coverings over all the windows and thought perhaps it was to protect them from tree branches and stuff like that. We weren't long into the journey when i discovered and remembered all sorts of other train journeys in my travels. I forgot about the backyards, the out of the way tracks, the edges of things. It traveled through the poorest of the poor districts. Some kids waved, groups of young kids threw rocks, a young girl, maybe 12 or 13, dressed in pink tracksuit bottoms and a blue sweater stood with her hands on her hips and gave us all the finger. I felt ashamed about the way the world has been divided up. While i am in no way rich, by being on that train i had unthinkable amounts of freedom she didn't. The train rolled past kilometers of shanty towns put together with anything that was found and could keep the elements out. Loads of rubbish and plastic bottles were everywhere and smouldering fires of the cities detritus dotted around the yards of the houses. A lot of these people, the families, survive on being the recyclers and rubbish collectors for the towns. Their horses and wooden carts trot around the streets in amongst the cars and buses, collecting what the consumer has discarded. It was pretty bleak. In the middle distance a number of industrial size chimney stacks were belching some toxic looking and smelling smoke. I would have given the finger too.

'el cuarto sexo'

Museo Bellas Artes, Tucuman.

I love how they let you take photos, it's a bit of a guilty pleasure, i half expect some smouldering guard to come up, tap me on the shoulder and quick march me out the door.
This mixed media piece is by Elizabeth Cardenas, and according to my Spanish dictionary, cuarto means; fourth, or quarter; room. Sexo, sex.
Moving on, or diminishing from the 2nd sex?
A good place to visit when the weather is inclement.

Una cafe con leche por favor...

This is a typical set up of my work at an al fresco cafe. All the accoutrements are laid out, pen, notebook, Spanish/English dictionary, sunglasses, map, coffee and a local arts/theatre/music gig guide in Spanish.
Perfecto!
It is also the place that is vital for the call of nature. I don't know how other visitors and locals deal with the need to pee, there is a distinct lack of loos around the country. A catch 22, you want to go for a wee, and all the cafes have signs saying toilets for guests use only, so i bolt to the loo, order a coffee or juice and away the cycle goes again.
Always use a loo when it presents itself...

a rip in the time/space continuum.....

This an image of what a rip in time could look like, according to Dr Who. I still have other places to Blog about, and i will spiral back to them on the weekend....
I am now in Buenos Aires, a week and one day.
And what a roller-coaster ride! Arrived in on a Friday, hostel booked and pesos in my pocket. Discovered i was in Party Central, and the dorm room with five young women was HQ.
Sunday, one of the room-ies who is writing, invited me to Starbucks to be her writing buddy, that sounded cool, except for the venue...but that's where she regularly sifts off the WI-fi, when in Rome, or Buenos Aires.
First mistake. Starbucks. So we were in there, looking fabulously writerly, when this older woman (in her 60's) and a male companion, said to Olivia (writing buddy from Sao Paulo, Brazil) there was something on her back. Chocolate sauce by the look of it. So Olivia goes to the bathroom to clean it off . I'm left at the table with our notebooks and bags on the window ledge. The woman comes around behind me and taps me on the shoulder. Second mistake; I turn around. She is talking away to me in Spanish and while i'm distracted and saying the 'no entiendo', her accomplice swipes Olivia's bag. It was about 10minutes later when Olivia notices and runs outside. I felt sick. She was furious. Her flash camera, mobile phone, computer cord in the backpack and she had no travel insurance. I felt sicker. Dreadfully responsible for not keeping my eyes out. Horrible. Ended up getting money out for her to try and replace what had been stolen. Awful. That was Sunday.
Monday i though, 'shit, i need to find a job!' Bought the English Buenos Aires Herald, there was one situations vacant-for a teacher of English. Emailed the site that night with the CV and etceteras, checked Tuesday, a reply email for an interview that afternoon, Wednesday back in for an orientation, Thursday my first two classes, and now it's Friday again. I move to another Hostel tomorrow that promises to be a bit more tranquil, windows in the room, larger, with a sunny courtyard and $10pesos cheaper per night. I go into what is now my local Panaderia, and Diego(we did formal introductions today) says it's Argentina's best friends day, i say i have no amigos here, he kisses my check (as you do) and says 'you have one now.'
What a WEEK eh.
To all my friends/amigas y amigos, miss you, love you lots.

Streets full of OrangeTrees

Tucuman, Argentina.

And then the sun appeared.

The streets are full of dusty orange trees, it is quite enchanting to walk down the road and see their lovely round shapes lit up by the Sun

 (with a capital S).

The day before i left the city on the ancient rusting train, and with the sun out, i began to get the hang of the place.

a scary somebody

Tucuman, Argentina.

I have lost the plot a little, and track of what church i discovered this dude in.
Tucked away along a side wall in his sleeping beauty glass case is this....martyr...?
Of course you have to go in for the close-up.

Next stop....Tucuman.

Casa de Gobierno, Plaza Independencia,
Tucuman, Argentina.

Local government HQ that gets lit up spectacularly at nights.

I arrived in Tucuman coming down with a chesty cough, it was chilly, grey and raining and i was feeling like the city was a big dull anti-climax to my whizzing around the warmth of Salta.

Two days it was overcast, but the Art Gallery was paying homage to a famous Spanish print-maker, Pompeyo Audivert.

Things improved after that and then i found a tasty little vegetarian cafe just down the road that sold its goodies by the 100gms. Heaven. Valhalla....

Corner of Plaza 9 de Julio

Salta, Argentina.

Get the feeling that i got a love on for Salta?
Have a small collection of photos of little crumbling casas that i thought i could live in.
Some flash ones as well, but realistically they wouldn't be in my budget.

a fine day for a walk...

Church of the Jesus of the Corazon something
Salta, Argentina.

This little gathering was nothing like the massive gathering they have here once a year, where thousands and thousands of people take to the streets when they pull out all the saints and take them for a procession around the city.
I waited and waited for the procession to start, but ended up getting a little bored and needed to go hunter gathering for a place to pee.

El Teleferico....usted esta aqui!...you are here!

The cable car to the top of

 Cerro San Bernardo

Salta, Argentina.

1454metres up, gives you a grand vista of Salta and the mountains that surround it.

Had a mad conversation with a couple of women from (as it turned out) Buenos Aires. Got the low down on how to carry and protect your bag on the streets, where to hide your money and watch out for those Argentinian hombres!

Of course all of that was in Spanish mime while i was sitting on a bench under a big Jacaranda tree sipping green tea out of my flask. You gotta love this place!

The MAC gallery

Museo Arte Contemporaneo, Salta, Argentina.

'La Torre de Babel' by Max Gomez Canie. 2010

The MAC gallery was quite extraordinary, situated on one corner of the central Plaza 9 de Julio, it exhibits works  by local, Argentinian and International contemporary artists.
Afterwards, when you have crusty gallery back, you find a nice cafe in the sun beside a church that is centuries old and write postcards.

Museo Contemporaneo, or MAC

Museo Contemporaneo - MAC, Salta, Argentina.

A triptych by Marcelo Abud. 2009.
These two digital photographs should be viewed side by side, but unless i re-did the pics in another program and imported them that way, it's not happening in this blog composition...and it's 10.30pm after a grande dia of mucho caminar... big day of lots of walking.
 I liked the contrast and conversation between the two protagonists,
and their 'background'.

Anyone for pigeons?

Plaza 9 de Julio, Salta, Argentina.

Another gorgeous day in the northeast. This is the main town square memorial. Nice to sit and watch people and eat oranges.
I think i got chatted up by an old guy, heard the word 'soltera'
meaning single, amongst a range of other words. I stopped him halfway through what sounded like one long word, to say 'no entiendo (i don't understand) so he came closer and whispered a whole lot more in my ear. Funny, as if speaking quietly made understanding a whole lot clearer. Any way, to cut a long story short, i understood....'manana,las doce y media, aqui. Like meet me here at 12.30pm tomorrow. Had some other old guy in Tucuman(the next town) basically do the same, so i invented 'mi novia en uno chaqueta verde en el banco'...my boyfriend in the green jacket in the Bank. That seemed to work. I was eating an orange then too. Maybe i should switch to bananas? 

The bank said 'Nada', el hombre said 'manana'

Bienvenido! Salta, Argentina.

Iglesia San Francisco.

I must try things differently. Sometimes. I arrived in Salta, Argentina with my head full of the visions of the Pass, thinking 'she'll be right,' and arrive at the terminal de buses about 9.30pm (so i thought) with not an Argentinian peso on me, and no hostel booked. 

Was all going to plan until the ATM said 'Nada'. 

 Shit.

Luckily for me, Claudio from the Hostel had been watching, asked me if i wanted to stay at his place, i said 'no dinero', he said with a shrug, 'manana'. We negotiated a price for the room, me and my bag full of rocks were heaved into a taxi and away i went with the driver giving me a running commentary, despite my 'no entiendo's,' along the way. We pull up at the Hostel, he drags my bag out, gives me a big toothless grin, hug and a kiss, and i was in Argentina.!

Fabulous eh. Te amo Salta!

Yes, another church. This was gaudily amazing. Love the colours they paint things here. You won't be able to see, but the curtain like things at each of the three doorways/portals are sculpted out of marble.

I should remember to put my glasses on when i'm taking pictures, so i don't chop off the top or bottom of things. You get the picture though...

Paso Jama

Paso Jama. From Chile into Argentina.

View from the bus window. Climbing up over 4,000 meters again. Another stupendous journey. This pass, so i found out later, is on a world heritiage list for magnificence, loveliness and outstanding features.
It sure was.
I'm getting quite fond of  volcanoes.
This is one of a number of high altitude passes through the cordillera that separates Chile, Argentina and Bolivia.
The landscape as we wound our way down and through hours of mountains, gorges and valleys was surreal. Then along came the cactus that marched and gathered in familial clumps down the hills. Outstanding. Haven't seen other passes yet, but this would have to be a big must see on anyone's agenda.

Anyone for croquet?

Laguna Chaxa, Salar de Atacama, Chile.

You could not call yourself Alice and pass up the opportunity to see pink flamingos!
These dudes weren't in the mood for a game, too busy sifting up the tiny crustacea that is the main part of their diet.
Three varieties here, all on the endangered list. They hang out on this salt lake in winter.
It was a day of ultimate contrasts, two high altitude lakes and numerous volcanoes for breakfast, a vast salt lake and flamingos in the early afternoon.
I really loved this part of Chile, its wildness and isolation, trippy landscapes that changed colours and shapes every time you looked.The cool people i met and hung out with. Maravilloso.

el guia

Lagunas Altiplanicas. Atacama Desert, Chile.

Our guide. A gorgeous Bolivian guy with marshmallow English.
He had been working with the tour company for four years, who adored the mountains and the snow after all his life living in the rainforest and lowlands.
Always trying to help me out of the van, calling me 'Lady' and i'd get a fit of the giggles.
He was a very gentle man.
Brown eyes. My favourites.

Breathtaking in every sense of the word

Lagunas Altiplanicas, Atacama Desert. Chile.

Two volcanoes in the background, one of two high altitude lakes; Miscanti and Meniquez (should have some accents above the 'n' in Meniquez and 'a' in altiplanicas, but haven't sorted that one out yet).
I was slightly nervous, picked up at 6am...enough to make anyone feel faint, and we were traveling up to 4,300metres above sea level. Had bought some Gingko in Antofogasta for altitude sickness, but apart from totally white fingers (it was pretty cold up there, even if the sky looks blue and the sun is shining), i was peachy!
Totally mind blowing, in 360 degrees.
Breakfast was fabulous, tried some coca tea(purely medicinal), and bread and cheese never tasted so good.

Iglesia San Pedro. 

San Pedro de Atacama, 

Chile.

an 

insiders 

sneak 

preview 

of 

the 

old 

church.

check

out

the

ceiling.

Iglesia San Pedro. San Pedro de Atacama, Chile.

You might be thinking I've gone all religious, but no, of course not.

This was a little groover, a 17th century adobe number with doors made from cardon cactus.

It was pretty amazing, the roof and undulating floorboards looked and felt like they were a few hundred years old.

I even saw a wedding going down one day as i was walking past.

San Pedro is at the northern end of a vast salt lake.

gorgeously warm during the day, mucho frio at night. Like most deserts. And 2,400metres up.

Nights are crystal clear and full of stars.

San Pedro de Atacama. Chile.

This little village is over 2,000 metres above sea level.
That splendid volcano in the background is one of 80 volcanoes that dot the cordillera of Chile.
San Pedro (or San Perro, as i heard one local call it) survives on its tourism industry. The main four streets are mainly packed with agencies offering excursions to salt lakes, valleys with outrageous lunarscapes, volcano climbing, high altitude lakes and Bolivian border crossings.
After the madness of Antofogasta, i really enjoyed time here. More than i had planned. Only one ATM machine in town and there is always a rush on weekends, so you wait until someone arrives to load it up again. And then you have to get in early cos there's a big rush Monday morning. I waited for the 3pm refill. Nice place to hang around in. sunrises and sunsets spectacular. from the seats at the front of the Hostel i would watch five volcanoes wake up and go to sleep.

Antofogasta, Chile.
Fish Market.

I
love
Pelicans.

Reminds me of Queensland (and the warmth), however these guys are the brown variety.
I even saw a big brown sea lion waiting for leftovers while i was loitering around the main wharf taking way to many pictures of Pelicans.

Antofogasta, Chile.

You can't smell it, but the most amazing fish market is right beside these local fishing boats.
I wandered around soaking up the sights and wondering what half the things were?
The Fish market is famous in the hood, the birds, cats, dogs and people flock here.
On the hills behind the city, etched out in something white (and large) are 'tags'...
Jehovah....Dios.....Carmen loves Julio.....

Antofogasta. Chile.

The remains of a silver refinery on the outskirts of the city.
A full on hardcore service industry and transport hub  for mining (predominantly), as well as fishing and tourism.
Apart from that it's pretty 'loco', spent a couple of days there. Watched a man wash and chop  his tomatoes and corridaner in the main Plaza fountains and prepare carefully his yummy looking lunch.
It pays to sit and watch.

is that like easy off Bam?

I have never had Sprim for breakfast before. Some of the fare dished out on the bus north. It tastes Lovely.         

View from a bus window

Heading north towards Antofogasta.

Past the Tropic of Capricorn.

Went back from the Elqui Valley to La Serena on the coast and caught a night bus towards the Atacama desert.

Wanted a daytime trip to see the land, but i think they all originate in the early mornings (north) from Santiago.

This was one of the views when i awoke.

The desert in the morning was splendid. 

All the colours not just from the sun but the minerals and oxides. Greens, ochres, sulphate yellows, volcanic orange and red hues.

This land, desert is rich in these and other minerals, lots of mining for copper, nitrate, manganese, silver, granite, salt and more.

We are in the territory of where the Chilean miners were trapped underground for weeks.

Some 
delicate 
little 
cactus 
flowers.

More Churches

Iglesa Nuestra Senora de Rosario. Pisco Elqui.

A small church populated by a sparse collection of worshippers. Geometric stained glass windows in blue, red, yellow and green; would have cast illuminated light on the audience had the sun been out. A dog with mixed parentage, Basset Hound recognisable, had a quilt of tan and black  markings patterned over his white low riding body. He sniffs the font filled with holy water, but his height determines it's unavailability.

Guilded statues of Mary and Jesus and other saints populate the side walls, each with their own towering and slightly chipped gothic canopy.

The dog sits beside me and looks hopeful. I stroke his long brown velvet ears.

The priest walks to his alter and kisses the cloth, the book. He has a Madonna microphone clasped to his head. The sound is muffled and slightly distorted.

The dog is lying down. Dreaming. Twitching imagining I'm not sure what.

The congregation stands, kneels, sits, stands, kneels, sings, gives offerings to the two children holding red satin bags. The priest moves down the centre aisle, talking, gesturing with open palms, gently making eye contact with his flock.

The patchwork dog wakes, stretches and moves to the end of the pew. The old man with the hat shoos him irritably and moves it along with a small kick.

The people stand, ready for communion, the wine, the wafers.

The dog and I discreetly make our exit and sit amongst the trees in the Plaza.

Elqui Valley Vista

The road to Pisco Elqui in the Elqui Valley

a view from the bus window on the way to the wee Pueblo of Pisco Elqui (an hour or so in from Vicuna). This valley is famous for its grape growing for that traditional Chilean drink. The vines had shut down for winter, so can only imagine how lush and green the valley would look in spring and summer.
Tried my first Pisco Sour the first night i was there. Don't know what he used to measure it, but i sure had a glow on and a little bit of a stagger on the way home.
Second night was just the same.

postcard from Cafe Frida

Cafe Frida, Vicuna, Chile.

i literally stumbled across this cute little cafe, and it became my regular coffee haunt in the four days i stayed in town.
each wall was painted a different colour and lots of prints, clutches of clay masks, and photographs adorned the walls.
between the free wi-fi at the Biblioteque,looking up to the stars at Observatorio Cerra Mamalluca, the amazing breakfast every morning at Hostel Elqui, this little tranquil town was a really nice place to stop and breathe and soak up the sights.

more churches. Vicuna this time

Vicuna, Chile.

Another church, didn't write the name down. But right beside the Plaza de Armas and next door to the Torre Bauer which houses the tourist information office.

Sleepy little town with a population of around 30,000. A gorgeous spot in the famous Elqui Valley, known for its grape growing for Chiles National drink. Pisco.

Close
up.
It's
enough
to
frighten
the
Bejesus
out
of
you.

Postcard from Vicuna

Vicuna, Chile.
The picture doesn't really do the sunset colours of the surrounding hills and mountains justice. i sat in the Plaza de Armas several evenings and watched the light and colour show. Spectacular. reds, pinks, oranges, purples and violets.
Vicuna is gorgeous, tranquil and landed in a really nice little Hostel/Hotel for CLP$8,000 per night. Had a pack of three amigo perros hanging out the front waiting for goodies to come there way. Lots of international observatories here because of the consistently clear night skies and little light pollution.

Vicuna. Chile .Museum of Gabriela Mistral, Latin Americas first Nobel Prize winning poet. 1945.

Excerpt from her poem 'Things"

i stare at it as it stared;

it starts me thinking strangely,

and i play with this water listlessly

as with fish or with mystery.

an aroma ripped to threads arises;

i am very lucky if i sense it;

so thin that it has no aroma,

being but trace of almond trees.