I don't think I could live in the desert. After a week in the region surrounding SALTA (Tilcara and Cafayete to be exact) I'm still in awe of the people who can call this area home. It's beautiful, there's no mistaking that. But every time I venture out towards the craggy splendor of the dusty mountains, my reptile brain screams "No! You will not survive out there!!" And it's true. A water bottle will only last so long, and the sun will certainly ravage, and btw, all the bushes and vegetation are covered with spines, spikes and barbs. Dawdle too long, or get lost, and the night winds will freeze you solid. It's not touchy-feely mother earth out here, it's some sort of bitch-goddess.
Yet strangely, the bitch-goddess smiles upon grapes. At the foot of the mountains here in Cafayete, thar be vineyards, produing mostly malbec, cab-sauv, and torrontes. The vines are currently all bare and spindly, despite other trees showing the first hints of spring.
We took out some bikes today to visit a few, but were thwarted, as often happens on our foreign bike journeys. We ended up taking a long pointless journey up a dusty road to find all three wineries we wished to visit closed. Not a huge tragedy, but we were very pleased to find a place serving up wine sorbet... torrontes and cabernet flavored. It took away the hurt of all that fruitless biking.
Above, a gorgeous abandoned Cafayete hospital.
Ponder if you will, what does a dental mechanic do?
Tomorrow, we're taking some sort of aeroplane to Iguazu, a tropical locale on the border between Argentina and Brazil. Word has it, there's some sort of waterfall there. Should be humid. No offense desert, but cannot wait for some leafy greenness.
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