Salta – Argentina

A Lost Taxi Driver, Consolation Empanadas, and Horses

View over Salta from Cerro San Bernardo.

Salta was something of a flying visit for us. We were keen to press on to San Pedro de Atacama quite quickly, so allowed ourselves only a few of days to explore.

On our first day proper in Salta we looked around the town. It’s beautiful in places, with some fantastic architecture. We also took the cable car up to Cerro San Bernardo, enjoying panoramic views of the city amidst some slightly dated artificial water features. We then descended on foot.

The following day we had intended to visit Reserva del Huaico nearby. Entry to the reserve is by appointment only and once inside you must remain with a small group of other tourists on guided 15km walk. We had been told that the tour leaves at 8:30am sharp, so we were somewhat disappointed when at 8:15am, after a 20 minute drive out of town, our taxi driver pulled up outside the wrong park.

Having missed our appointment there was nothing to do but return to our hostel. Cheekily the taxi driver followed us in to insist on payment for this erroneous journey. We stood firm, and after our hostel host had helpfully translated the fact we were not going to pay in rather firmer terms than I had used, the hapless cabby shook our hands and slunk off.

We consoled ourselves later that day by visiting the Patio de la Empanada, a large open area containing some 10 tables around which several establishments compete to provide hungry diners with their freshly baked Empanadas. We sampled several flavours, and tried them both baked and fried. Breaking the trend of a lifetime, I preferred mine baked. More in keeping with tradition Kim disagreed with me, preferring the fried.

Empanadas from Patio de la Empanada. Fried ones on the left, baked on the right.

Our second excursion was more successful. We were collected the next morning from our hostel and taken to a ranch about 40 minutes outside of Salta. We donned helmets and saddled up for a day of horseback riding. While Kim has a fair amount of riding experience, mine is limited to a 2 hour trek in Slovenia on a horse so docile I suspect it had either been drugged or recently lobotomised. I was therefore, somewhat justifiably, apprehensive when we quickly began climbing up a mountain using an uneven, narrow, overgrown, and occasionally winding path. Other than one skitter and stumble from my horse which threatened to unseat me, my fears were unfounded and before long both Kim and I were thoroughly enjoying the ride.

The decent down the mountain offered another hair raising moment as we tackled, one-by-one, a particularly steep section of the path, but again we all managed to remain atop our trusty steeds. The most exhilarating part of the day was still to come however.

Now we were upon flat ground our guide led us to a wide green field and asked casually, “does anyone want to gallop?” Kim nodded enthusiastically. I nodded the way a condemned man nods when asked if he is ready for the noose. After watching Kim disappear into the distance far faster than I was comfortable with, it was my turn. After having an internal debate as to whether this was such a good idea afterall, I decided to start slowly and build up speed as and when I was comfortable. I somewhat reluctantly nudged my horses flanks with the merest tap of my heels. Completely incongruently with my subtle urgings, it plunged forward at full pelt, clearly far more eager than I to be moving at maximum possible velocity.

Somehow arriving safely on the other side of the pasture, I have to admit I was pleased to hear our guide suggest a race between Kim and I, as it would give me another chance to kick my horse to a gallop (or at least to let my horse decide he wants to gallop). Kim, being the far better rider, with the slighter build, and being atop the faster horse won at a canter. Well a figurative canter, she litterally one at a gallop. Despite having a rapidly dimishing view of Kim’s horse’s backside as I sped across the landscape, it was amazingly good fun.

Back at the stables we enjoyed a cold bear or two before being driven back to our lodgings. The next morning we crossed the Andes, back into Chile, and to the strange landscapes of San Pedro de Atacama.