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  • Cycling in Salta!

    The Journey

    Coming to Argentina with my bike was a gamble. Were there going to be roads that would be well paved? Could I get out of the city on the bike safely? Would the bike make it to our (semi) final destination?

    Turns out the answer to those three questions was yes! I packed my bike in a specially design bike carrying case (plastic shell with small luggage-style-wheels for rolling it) and checked it on the plane. Got it onto the plane, off the plane, into a taxi, to Buenos Aires, back into a taxi, back onto a plane and into another taxi (actually it took two taxis that time!) to Córdoba and onto a bus to Salta, a city up North. That’s about 7600 miles in total.

    Jeff's Iron Case travel bag

    I searched “ciclismo Salta” on Google and got a contact email address and from there was able to arrange a ride with some local cyclists. I rode out to the meeting point, thinking I would likely see only a few riders, but was surprised to see about thirty cyclists with modern race bikes, riders varying in age from 15 to about 60.

    I could tell this would be a fun group to ride with in that there was a lot of excited chatter, joking, and thankfully, interest in what I was doing there, where I was from, and–as will happen with any group of cyclist–questions about my bike.

    Taking a Coke break

    Turns out they ride just about daily and are a rather experienced, fit bunch of riders.  Some have been riding for over twenty years. I chatted with most of them during our 50 mile ride, one of them put his hand on my shoulder as we rode handlebar-to-handlebar up a long climb.

    At the end of the ride someone asked if I wanted to stop for a Coke with them. The American equivalent of this would be either all stopping at Starbucks for a coffee or perhaps at a gas station where everyone would buy a can of pop etc. Here in Salta it meant sitting down in a shaded area in town where two riders could run to buy several 2 liter Cokes to fill everyone’s cycling water bottles. Being the day after New Year’s we toasted with our Coke filled bottles making sure to “clink” every single bottle in the group. Again lots of chatter and smiles, and also more interest in me and my journey.

    Cycling in Salta

    I’ve ridden with these guys several times since, and am looking forward to many more rides and routes.

    For anyone coming to Salta you can see two of my rides on the website “Map My Ride”

    http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/26782092

    http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/26781386

  • Cordoba to Salta bus ride – my neurotic personality fails me

    If we were on the show Amazing Race we would have been eliminated for sure.  We were taking an overnight bus from the town of Cordoba to Salta.  Usually my complete neurotic personality, while annoying, keeps us on track. This time it completely failed us.

    We had flown from Buenos Aires to Cordoba.  After a few days in Cordoba we were headed for the town of Salta.

    I’m the first to admit we have way too much luggage.

    But, when we bought tour first class overnight bus ticket we were assured there was more than enough room for all our luggage.  I even insisted we bring the above photos to show them when we bought the tickets.  The ticket seller said it was fine.

    Our bus left at 8:15pm.  I insisted we leave our apt at 6:30.   No way were we missing this bus. Jeff protested, but after some serious marriage negotiation we got to the bus station at 7:00p.m.   We stood at the bus terminal and watched as buses headed to all parts of Argentina came and went. I strode up and down the terminal monitoring each bus. There was no way a bus could come into the station without my knowledge.  Jeff thought I was overdoing it, if the bus pulled in surely we’d see it.  I  agreed, but nervous energy kept me pacing up and down.

    At 7:45 a bus with the words Salta plastered to the front of it rolled into the terminal. Jeff and I wrangled all 5 pieces of luggage to the bus.   The driver didn’t want to take Jeff’s bike suitcase.  He had to pay “a little extra” to get the driver to accept it.    Finally, the bike and our huge suitcases got loaded in. It was a relief to see them safely on the bus and the luggage compartment door shut.

    Then we handed our boarding ticket to the driver who informed us we had the wrong bus. This was the 8:30 bus. Oh, and what do you know, our 8:15 bus had already left.  It seemed impossible. I had memorized ever bus and where it was gong. There was no way  a bus for Salta had pulled in without my knowledge.  What’s the point of being neurotic, nervous and checking and double checking if you still miss the correct bus?

    Our luggage was on the 8:30 bus, but we were not.  We waved goodbye as everything we currently owned drove off to Salta without us.

    The next bus we could get on was at 10:30. It cost extra to change the ticket for a lower class of service. As we sat in the station the same thought went through both of our heads, “I just want to go home. I’m too old for this sh*t.”

    But then we got on the bus, got served a tray of different kinds of ham sandwiches: rolled ham sandwich, thin ham sandwich, regular ham sandwich. We watched a Jennifer Anniston movie, reclined our chairs and went to sleep.

    The next morning we arrived in Salta and our luggage was waiting, untouched at the bus office. It only cost a “little extra” to get it.

    So what seemed like a potential disaster worked out fine in the end. The travel gods were watching over us yet again.

  • Eating an Entire Cow (not in one sitting) part 5

    We spent our last night in Buenos Aires at the same restaurant we went to the first night.   Here’s what we’ve learned in a month in Buenos Aires.

    • 10:30 is a good time to go out for dinner.  Midnight is not.  They were done for the night, but still seated us.

    • Our Spanish still needs work.  We ordered 3 different steaks. When they came one turned out to be chicken.

    • Steaks taste a lot better than organs (at least the one organ I’ve tried so far).  We got a flank and skirt steak. Both were really good.
    • They don’t call it skirt steak here. Jeff tried to buy a “lomo de falda” at a butcher the next day which made the butcher laugh.
    • Pictures of gauchos holding giant knives should not scare you.

    • You need to use caution when salting.  Salt shakers run really fast here.
    • Dulce de leche ice cream rocks

  • Happy New Year!

    Happy New Year!  We wish everyone a wonderful, healthy 2011.

    Our New Year’s Eve didn’t go as planned.  Going out to dinner was a disaster.   We walked home in a torrential downpour. The clock struck midnight while we were in an elevator. But then we were surprised by a huge fireworks display that we could see from our balcony.

    That’s what I love about traveling, even when things are going poorly, they can turn around when you least expect it.

    Wishing everyone lots of wonderful surprises in 2011.

  • Tango Show in Buenos Aires- so not our thing

    There are several ways for tourists to see tango in Buenos Aires.

    1. on the street in San Telmo and La Boca –  We did this and it left us wanting more.

    2. Milongas – the real deal tango bars – We didn’t go to one of these and so wish we had.

    3. Tourist tango shows – We went to one of these and kind of wish we hadn’t.

    The one we choose was highly recommended by the guidebooks and on Trip Advisor.   We got there, were seated and immediately brought bottled water, an emapanada and red wine.  The tickets were expensive by Buenos Aires standards, but with these extra it seemed like a great deal.

    The show started. The dancing and singing were good, but it reminded me of the Donny and Marie show with singers, lavish dance numbers, and a Carlos Gardel impersonator. It lacked the passion and intensity you can see on Dancing with the Stars.

    We weren’t allowed to videotape but could take photos without the flash.

    The show was boring except for one sexy really good dance.  Unfortunately, it was at this moment they brought us the bill. Turns out the water, wine and empanada weren’t free .  Jeff signed the bill as quickly as he could. He would have signed anything to get them to leave and let him watch the one good dance of the night.

    The people next to Jeff were singing along to every song, so I think it was a good show, just not our thing.  When it was over and the lights came on, I chugged ever last drop of wine and stuffed Jeff’s left over empanada into my mouth.  Since we had paid for it, I wasn’t about to let them go to waste.

    So it turns out even someone that loves all things touristy, doesn’t really like tourist tango shows. But, you can’t love everything.    Although I did absolutely love the street named after Carlos Gardel and the statue.

    Next time we’re in Buenos Aires we’ll try a milonga.