ARGENTINA

It had been raining continuously for days in Buenos Aires and I arrived to a city that was drowning. So many services had been disrupted and I needed to find my way to San Telmo. I hoped to get one of the dinky underground trains to my hostel as I had a secondhand SUBE card that I had been promised still held loads of unused credit. But, after lugging my large pack down into the station, the woman in the booth told me: ‘No dinero’! Argentina in 2014 wasn’t an easy place to get currency. The official exchange rate gives you very few dollars and I had been advised to wait until I got there and get it on the black market. So I didn’t have any money at all, and had to haul my pack back up the stairs again, back out into the rain and try and find where I could get some. Luckily a policeman took pity on me and my poor Spanish, and gave me enough money to buy a ticket.

After checking into my hostel, I went off to meet Jessica, a local guide who is American, but had lived in Argentina a long time and knew the country very well. We went to La Boca, the port area where the Italians first settled and the home of tango and ‘Hand of God’ Maradona. It’s an interesting part of town, but even the brightly coloured houses couldn’t make it cheerful in the pouring rain (she told me that the porteños are afraid of rain!). So we sat in a bar instead and went through my intinerary and she gave me lots of good advice for the days to come.

The next day, when I got out of bed, I was standing in an inch of water. The room was on the first floor so not sure how it got flooded but thankfully nothing was damaged. I had an early flight to Patagonia and it took ages for the taxi to get to Jorge Newbery Airport because the roads were awash. My heart sank as there was lots of noise at the airport about flights being cancelled, but eventually my plane took off and the pilot announced ours had been the last flight before they shut the airport. How happy I felt when we left the grey skies behind and the landscape of southern Argentina appeared below.

Inspired by Bruce Chatwin’s wonderful fantasy-travel book In Patagonia, I spent the next week in the region in both Chile and Argentina. Looking at a map, I was conscious of how far south I had travelled and it was like nowhere I’d ever been before. Everywhere was silent and the colours were so rich: purple mountains, turquoise water, luminous green vegetation, yellow sand, silver sky. El Calafate was a bit of a tourist dump but it’s located by the spectacular Lago Argentino where I saw Chilean flamingos and Golden Ibis, as well as quite a few condors. It’s also a good hub to get to so many other places. My accommodation was at ‘Las Cabañitas’ which were no more than very basic tin sheds, but the owner was friendly and generous and I ate well while I was there.

I got out and about every day I was there, including to the Perito Moreno glacier, one of the few in the world that is advancing not retreating. It’s seemingly a very tranquil place until the silence is shattered as a large chunk of ice drops off the shelf and crashes into the water.

I also spent a day at an estancia with a young girl, Alejandra, who was training to be a tourist guide. Her English was far better than my shabby Spanish. I had the best meal of the trip here – local lamb and chimichirri sauce and good red wine. Alejandra didn’t want to go riding that afternoon so I went off with the local gauchos. Watching them ride around the sheep is so impressive. They sit so far back on their saddles, it’s like they are sitting in an armchair.

I am a very inexperienced rider but I had a sweet grey horse called Pippi who looked like she was used to gringos like me. There was a fleece under the saddle and loose reins, and no bit – it felt a bit kinder than the way horses are saddled in England. She wanted to do her own thing a couple of times, but I managed to more or less keep her under control. It was a great experience, even afterwards having to share the mate cup and straw with all the gaucho boys. I watched them shear sheep and I milked one of the cows (they literally snatched the feeding baby away to let me have a go but returned it afterwards, poor thing). Later I warmed my very cold backside by a huge fire and chatted to Alejandra. She gave me the best advice about going to touristy places like the glacier: always go as late in the afternoon as you can as all the buses leave about 3-4 and you’ll have the place to yourself. It’s so true.

Crossing into Chile was very relaxed. After what felt like a casual stroll from one country to another, one of the guys I was with asked the Chilean customs officers if they needed to search his bag. ‘Do you have a bomb in there?’ they asked him. ‘No’ he replied. ‘Then that’s fine, you can go’.

We were welcomed into the Torres del Paine National Park by rhea and guanaco. Sadly no puma.

I found it very moving in this national park. It didn’t feel like there was many people there and there were no 21st century sounds – no cars, no overhead planes. It was beautiful – the colours were so intense and I loved the contrast between the silvery peaks and the lush vegetation. England was miles away geographically and emotionally and the whole experience made me wish I was spending more time here. Hopefully I will get a chance to go back.

The ground is littered with skeletal bushes. Wildfires are infrequent but devastating and are nearly always caused by travellers lighting fires or stoves getting out of control.

A few days later, I flew back to Buenos Aires, spent a couple of nights near the Recoleta Cemetery in one of the rudest hotels I’ve ever stayed in, and I also did a terrible food tour (I later got my money back). On the plus side, I visited the very beautiful El Ateneo Grand Splendid – a bookshop in an old opera house, and I finally got a lot of money changed in a shady kiosk in a dark alley nearby and ended up with an unwieldy wodge of used notes. I also went to the Barrio Abasto to look at its colourful houses.

In an effort to save money, I had booked one of the long distance buses to the Jujuy province in the north west. The roads in Argentina are very good and it’s the best alternative to flying. I walked to the big bus station and took my seat on the upper deck right at the front just like a excited child. It took a couple of hours to get out of the city and unfortunately, at a stop on the outskirts, some Bolivian guys got on and one of them sat next to me and didn’t budge for the whole time (I’m sure he was equally disappointed to see me). Never mind, I had food and my music and a great view and the fare was very affordable. The journey to Tilcara took just about 24 hours with only one proper stop so I was relieved to finally make it.

Argentina is vast with many different climates and landscapes. Here, close to the borders with Bolivia and Chile, it’s mountainous, dry and hot. The Altiplano is about 3500m altitude and part of the same region as the Atacama desert.

Tilcara is called a city but it felt more like a village. My accommodation here was by miles the best of the trip. I stayed with a local family at La Casa Del Indio and they were so kind and friendly and the food was great. While I was in Tilcara, I did try a llama burger, but it was chewy and tasteless, and I felt guilty because there were so many of these lovely animals around.

Near Tilcara is Purmamarca famous for for El Cerro de los Siete Colores – the hill of seven colours. On the way back from here, we got stuck in a demonstration by ‘piqueteros’ who were blocking the road in protest against the way the indigenous people are treated. Most of Argentina is populated by those of European descendancy but here in Jujuy province there are still people who speak Quechua and other languages, and they regard these people as colonists. This area was part of the Inca Empire and there is a closer link with people in Bolivia and Chile than with the rest of Argentina.

I met a couple of other lone female travellers and we hired a local company to take us to the giant salt flats, the Salinas Grandes. We went to a place where the salt is harvested using large evaporation pools. It was unbelievably photogenic and I took hundreds of pictures. Whoever runs this plant obviously knows that and everything is artfully arranged. All the buildings are built out of salt including the restaurant and even its table and chairs. There was also a Dr Seuss-looking character who made sculptures from salt. I loved this place.

A friend of Malka and José Luis drove me to my next stop in Salta and saved me the hassle of multiple buses. I was very sorry to leave them, their cosy house and Tilcara too. My first impressions of Salta were not good: scruffy, lots of dirty traffic, poor food and not really much to see or do despite its reputation.

However I did spend a couple of hours in the Museo de Arqueología de Alta Montaña. In 1999 some climbers had found three mummified children in a nearby mountain and they are now housed in this remarkable museum. When I visited it felt like I was the only one there which always makes me happy. I followed a path that took me past various exhibits of objects that were found with the children. The lighting was dim and there was some very atmostpheric Inca drum music playing. Finally I went round a corner and was confronted by one of the mummies itself. This was the little girl hit by lightning and there are black marks on her face.

Child sacrifice was considered an honour by the Inca and it was quite often children of the nobles who were chosen. They were paraded around the whole empire for a year or so before being taken up the mountain, drugged and buried alive. It was quite shocking to see and understand. Needless to say, it’s a controversial display as the indigenous people feel these children should have been left where they were found. But for ambience, it is one of the best museums I have been to, and I came away very interested in the whole story and with lots of questions.

Unenamoured by Salta, I managed to join a day trip to Cachi. Everyone was Argentinian apart from me and a young Israeli guy who had spent four months in South America, one month each in four countries, learning Spanish. This was his last week and he was now fluent. He told me he’d done it by using every opportunity to speak to the locals and he spent the whole day going round the people on the bus and chatting to them. I was so impressed. We saw some condors and he translated for me what the guide had said about these birds which was fascinating if a little romanticised. We also passed a graveyard for soldiers killed in the Falklands/Malvinas war. These boys were so young – I don’t think we ever heard that side of the story in England. Most of the route was through Los Cardones National Park, named after the giant cactuses that grow here. I loved this little church in spite of the fact that the Spanish had plonked it on top of an old Inca sacred site.

It was a great day out although ironically it was the bus ride to and from Cachi that I remember rather than Cachi itself. We stopped for lunch at an asado place with a huge range of beef options (No Country for Vegetarians). I had the Andean dish charquisillo which is strips of dried beef (ch’arki), vegetables and rice.

After the north west, I flew to the Iguacu Falls on the border with Paraguay and Brazil. I spent a day at the falls in Argentina, and a day on the Brazillian side. There is much more to do on the Argentinian side, lots of treks, information, cafés and the zodiac boats that take you under the falls. On one of these, I had been warned I might get ‘a bit wet’ but I got completely soaked as we went under the tumbling water. My little Cybershot camera was inevitably ruined although luckily my DSLR was in a waterproof pouch under a seat. Never mind, it was an exhiliarating way to feel the force of the water. Despite the fun, I preferred the simplicity and drama of the Brazillian side.

Another very long bus ride took me back to Buenos Aires where I stayed at the Ostinatto again, this time in the room on the roof and no flooding.

As soon as I got back I headed to Pedro Telmo for a stunning omelette or ‘tortilla’ (pronounced tor-tee-jah here).

I had a few days more in the city before a long flight back to England via Rome. A tiring but thrilling trip where I felt I had seen a bit of everything.