La Quiaca to Salta

Thursday, Oct.21.

Peter is certain he has read on the Internet that there is an express bus from La Quiaca to Salta and it should take four hours which, for the distance, is logical. We decide to attempt to cancel our tickets and take either an express or an earlier bus. We can get a bus at 11:30 which takes the same seven hours for the trip. Unfortunately, we can get only 50% back on our cancellation. We decide to bite the bullet. It is a good investment, as Peter is still not feeling well and we don’t need to be arriving at 9:30 or later in Salta.

There are a few inconveniences in Argentina that one must get used to. You pay to have your bags stored in the luggage space of the bus and you pay again to retrieve it. Also, the Gendarmerias stop the bus often, Probably eight times in our trip. Once on the trip, everyone had to get off, take all their luggage and have it searched. A sniffer-dog and three or four guards searched the bus meticulously. I felt sorry as we watched the bus in front of us, as the guards pulled and scattered the clothing of the ladies who had those big, plastic bags that are so popular in Latin America. The ladies had to repack the stuff as best they could. As foreigners, the guard does a quick look at Peter’s stuff, but disturbs nothing. I am in the lady’s line, about fourth or fifth, but within no time, I and a nice elderly Argentinian are at the back of the pack! We smile and talk about casual things. As the men finish, a guard comes over and takes the last lady to bench behind us and quickly deals with her, while the guard at the men’s table motions that I should come to his station. He views my passport, looks in my Peruvian day bag - that big thing I have found so handy for day trips - asks me what is in it. I answer in Spanish and he moves me on without even opening my Switchback luggage I have zipped together.

At another stop, a young guard gets on the bus, sees us as foreigners and asks us some questions in English. When he is finished, I ask him in Spanish if he is practicing his English. He says yes, he is studying English. I say that I am studying Spanish as well. We get a beautiful smile.

The topography along the way is extremely varied. We begin in the Pampa, wide, flat desert. The first hills we see appear like a beach washed by surf. I took a picture so maybe Patrick and Antigone can let us know what it is. We come to a pass called the Valle Azul, as there is some green here and many dry arroyos coming from the tall mountains to the west. There is a town called Volcan, so I figure there should be a volcano somewhere around, but can’t distinguish one. There are stone walls built in the arroyos at about a forty-five degrees from the edge of the “river”. We wonder if this is to direct the water coming from the mountains or to slow the speed of the water as it rushes downhill. Finally, we end in a lush valley of rich farmland.

On the outskirts of both Jujuy and Salta, there are tracks of land with extremely upscale housing, mostly all fairly new in style. More so by Salta, these are located within a gated, but not walled, community. Finally, we arrive in Salta an hour and a half later than scheduled. We have had fabulous seats, top-level, at the front, so although long, the trip has been pleasant. Only one identification foreigner was ever on the bus!

Our hostel is the most dilapidated to date, but the night-man is helpful, cheerful, and very handsome! He shows us around, somewhat apologetically, I detected. It turns out the bed is comfortable, and we have a fan to help with the heat. HEAT!!!! I pack up a bag to send home tomorrow, but that is a whole other story. I’ll save it to the next blog. Chow!
Yes, Henry, they do use “vos” for “usted” here. I saw it in an ad. Also, I find "con permiso" seems to work well when someone is blocking the way.
p.s. Also will post later the pictures to go with this post as they did not download from my camera. Another Johnstone glitch.