Salta, Argentina: a break from the city

I needed a break from Buenos Aires. I may sound like a jerk, but it's true. Too much of any city without honest priorities requires a change of pace.

Buenos Aires is a tremendous amount of fun. Its a great blend of cosmopolitan charm and urban grime. The daytime pace is tranquilo and matte fueled, yet the nights are their own beast. Dinner only becomes a thought by 10pm. By 2am the bars and clubs are filling up and at 4am the crowd is starting to debate the next venue. If you're out, its normal. By six in the morning the sun grows and couples desperately grope each other and the fleeting night. Yet its a draining and empty feeling to cab home and know the starting day will be largely lost to sleep. The past weekend of Thursday to Sunday was extremely entertaining, but come Monday I needed a retreat to the countryside. Initially, I was leaning towards Mendoza, but took the suggestion of a friend to explore Salta. My options were a 2hr plane ride or an overnight bus. An easy choice, especially seeing I only have a week left in Argentina before taking off for Africa.

There was little planning to the trip. I had read only a few articles on the city of Salta and a couple more on surrounding area. I simply wanted to explore. I stepped off the plane and was struck by the wide open sky, bright sun and still heat. Its only mid-October, but its scorching in Salta; surprisingly warmer than urban BA. By midday I was checked into a hostel and ready for some lunch. Accompanied by only my camera and my novel at the time, ''The Road'' I found a terrace for coffee and empanadas.

A commonality of South American cities/towns is they they all host at least one central open plaza. An urban span of trees and grass designed for idle time. They offer a short cut across the block or a place to sit in the shade. Usually, some statue stands in the center.

Following lunch I attempted, once again to check out a polo match. Once again, my plan was thwarted as there was no match scheduled for the day. However, I did get to see a few players and horses practice on the pitch which was still impressive.

I backtracked to centro and rode a gondola up to the city's lookout. A very worthy 15 minute cable ride up. The peak boasted an elaborate waterfall of multi-stages, a cultivated garden and a large cross, which is seemingly pre-requisite of any urban hill in South America. I stayed for a couple hours and watched the sun set behind a range of mountains along Salta's western sprawl. One by one the streets lights began to shine.

Dinner was a group asado back at the hostel. I grilled a beefy tenderloin and ate an excessive amount of blue cheese while reading further into ''The Road.'' It was tough to socialize. I wasn't feeling up to the hostel small talk. Perhaps I would have chimmed in if someone from the mini-UM started the conversation with something interesting like, ''I knew a ninja once...'' Nobody did. All the better, my bus to Cafayate was at 7am.

*******

The bus was jam packed. A few had to stand and they swayed listless. The ride was a dozy 4hrs. I completed ''The Road'' in between slumbers. An eerie novel set in post-apocolyptic America. A striking tale of Father and Son, their loyal bond and the emotional hardships of persevering for an uncertain tomorrow. Cormac McCarthy describes scorched landscapes covered in ash. A vast sprawl of desert. It was stirring to read the final pages while watching the parched terrain roll by from my window seat.


*******

I now find myself in Cafayate, Argentina. A small town in the northwestern province of Salta, edging the borders of both Chile and Boliva. Its dry, desert hot and sits at an altitude of 1,500m - ideal growing conditions for grapes, especially the Malbec variety which thrive in the cold nights of higher altitudes.

I arrived at noon as the town lay active only in siesta. After walking a few central squares, I spotted an empanada shop. I ordered a variety of 6 and a liter of cola. Following, I rented a bike from across the street and spent the balance of the day navigating the back country roads and tasting wines from 5 different vineyards.

Cafayate offers a wide selection of local wines. Better yet, most of the vineyards are easily accessible by bike. Really a perfect town for wine tasting.

Tomorrow, I'll explore more of the surrounding area. There are sand dunes, mountains of layered colours and ancient cave etchings.

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I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Cafayate, Argentina. I've just cracked a Quilmes and have a cheek full of coco leaves. I'll soon go eat dinner and continue reading Cormac McCarthy's ''Blood Meridian.'' I'm one chapter in and already it starts will a tone of graphic aggression. Still, I can tell it will entice. He writes with such a unique prose.

I was introduced to Cormac McCarthy in a backwards sort of way. I had no idea it was he that wrote ''No Country For Old Men'' until after mentioning his name to a friend. I learned about him through a singer/song writer named Ben Nichols. He recently released an album called ''Last Pale Light in the West'' which he wrote based entirely off ''Blood Meridian.'' Its an acoustic solo album in which Nichols' voice sounds appropriately like whiskey.