We arrived in Salta alongside 40,000 drunken, deranged fans of Indio Solari, an Argentine rock hero playing a sold out show that evening. Not only did Indio sell out the soccer stadium, he managed to fill absolutely every room in every hotel in town. As a consequence, we retreated to San Lorenzo, 10 km out of town, in the tropical foothills of the Yungas, to camp out in the rain. Our accidental trip to San Lorenzo proved fortuitous, as future posts shall reveal.
Salta is situated in a fertile valley, originally settled by the Spaniards as an agricultural center providing supplies to the mining operations situated in the modern day Bolivian altiplano. Salta is full of colonial architecture, and it is certainly quite an active metropolis. A funny, lingering effect of New York City is that we can´t seem to handle much time in larger cities. We spent three days amongst the hustle-and-bustle of Salta, predominately taking care of errands, paramount among them the pursuit of a tourist visa to Bolivia.
The last week has informed us that ¨He who rushes the Bolivian Consulate, wastes the most time.¨ Long story short: Lex got her visa but I was unable to get mine due to a shortage of some sort of stamp. I shall try my luck at the border, on the advice of the consulate in Salta.
Our other grand chore was shopping for and reserving a rental car for an amazing road trip to the frontier. Fortunately, this transaction did work out for us . . . something one can never be to sure of in this part of the world. About the only thing that happens on time, and with utmost certainty, is the afternoon siesta. I wonder how long one could retain employment, importing this custom to New York?
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Thank you for taking me along- I love your blog, pics and food choices. Stay healthy and safe. Love, Lee