Salta Pt. II

So after waking up in Tilcara, and having full use of the rental car for a full two more days, we aprovechar-ed (the verb aprovechar in Spanish means to take advantage, and it has become one of my favorites. That was dreadful usage there in the previous line -- apologies if you speak Spanish) and drove our little white Chevy all across the north of Jujuy. It was a warm, bright, beautiful day and since none of us had ever seen any of the three major circles of latitute before, we started by visiting the -- wait for it -- TROPIC OF CAPRICORN, Y'ALL!!!!!! 2K10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111

That picture was pretty much it. Still, though, currently my favorite tropic by far.
After driving 25 miles out of our way to see the tropic and 25 miles back, we began an ascent up to the Salinas Grandes (salt flats, ironically located not in the Salta, but the Jujuy province) on a road chock-full of switchbacks and oftentimes lacking guardrails. At one point we were behind a truck of sulfuric acid covered in "PELIGROSO" signs and we had a fun time verbalizing our morbid visualizations of that truck slipping off the cliff edge in front of us or sliding backward into our car. Thought of you, Brooks House.
Again, the actual distance in kilometers was something ridiculously tiny, but the climb (4170 m above sea level) took about three hours -- enough time for me to take these sick photos:




Upon approaching the flats, we found a small outpost made of salt bricks -- tried the walls out of curiosity, before trying the ground in several places as well. I'm an adult? The outpost was owned by a toothless man who I'm pretty sure made his money strictly by charging tourists 1 peso to use the porta potties. While waiting in line to pay said peso, we overheard a man in front of us ask the salt-house owner whether he had any water. "No," replied the toothless man. "Anything at all to drink?" asked the tourist. "No," again. "Anything to eat?" "No." So just the bathrooms then.

Can't climb on the salt mounds. Bullllllllllllllllllllshit.

The salt flats were, as expected, extraordinary. And extraordinarily bright. Kat forgot sunglasses and after fifteen minutes of watching her wince and cover her face, I figured she was being a baby and loaned her mine. I barely made it five. Picture looking into the strongest white light, but not being able to tear your eyes away, even when the eyeballs feel like they're burning a little. We also got markedly sunburnt from about twenty minutes outside of the car -- apparently when UVlight shines from all directions, it ups the exposure. HOW BOUT THAT. The Salinas Grandes looked like fields of snow, if snow were gritty and had flavor and was comfortable to sit on. There's also a lot of fun to be had playing with perspective; since the horizon is so far away, one can play all kinds of cameratricks, standing on bottles and holding friends in the palm etcetera etcetera. We didn't, really, though we did take advantage of how cool the field of white looked for some good shots.

Far-off horizons add to the baller-ness of any photo, it turns out.

This picture is pretty nerdy but admit it, you're pretty jealous too.

After thoroughly enjoying the Salinas (which took maybe 45 minutes... there's a four-day ride across the Uyuni flats in Bolivia and I question how one makes the initial wonder stretch for almost a week), we drove back down the mountain (which took half the time) and landed in Purmamarca, a town even smaller than Tilcara. Purmamarca is famous for the Cerro de Siete Colores, or Hill of Seven Colors, which is as literal as you might imagine.

Had fun imaginary-naming the seven colors: PUCE, MAUVE, BURNT SIENNA.

In Purmamarca, we bought ice cream, climbed to the top of a hill overlooking the town, and got caught behind the oddest local parade, a group of children walk-dancing in unison to a snare and bass drum though the streets for no apparent reason whatsoever. Since hostels (hostel, actually, we found one) in Purmamarca were more expensive than Tilcara, we drove back to the town that had so charmed us the previous night and stayed there again. NOTE: this is one of the biggest shockers I've encountered traveling -- oftentimes the tiny, dirt-road towns offer more expensive housing than the big cities. Don't know why I expected it to be the other way, but I definitely did. I also continue to get surprised anytime food in Argentina isn't at least 25% cheaper than food in the US. I'm an asshole.

Purmamarca.

Bustling.

I guess Part III of this recap will actually contain the most epic story of the trip. Don't miss it. May post again this afternoon, as I don't work today, it's raining, and Megavideo only lets me watch two episodes of How I Met Your Mother per hour. TIL THEN.