Day two of excursions and today on the agenda was Tilcara and Humahuaca in the most northern province of Jujuy - pronounced choo-choo-ee for the Jews out there (for the non-Jews, its not like a train). Today I was on a tiny tour of four people. I was one of the four. There was a couple from Santa Fe and a guy from Buenos Aires. Even though I was totally of a different generation, they were very sweet and we got along well enough for our day long excursion.
We started in Purmamarca, where I left off the 
day before. The colors are way more brilliant in the morning sun. Now I could actually see all of the seven colors in the seven colors hill. We even drove through the hill (well not through it, but through the valleys behind it). The red rock is really soft, it crumbles like clay at the mere touch of it. It's just crazy to think that rocks (not gems) can be purple or pink.
day before. The colors are way more brilliant in the morning sun. Now I could actually see all of the seven colors in the seven colors hill. We even drove through the hill (well not through it, but through the valleys behind it). The red rock is really soft, it crumbles like clay at the mere touch of it. It's just crazy to think that rocks (not gems) can be purple or pink.We journeyed onward towards Tilcara, stopping many times on the road to take pictures with 
the monstrous mountains we were casually driving around. My favorite part of the drive was seeing the mud brick houses and one room houses randomly spattered in the hills. People hanging laundry and sweeping their front step just off the road where Middle of Nowhere meets Beautiful Mountains. We paused in front of one of these houses to take pictures of the hills in Maimara. My tour guide was this old old man named Jorge with broken teeth. But he was so excited to have young blood on his tour. He was my personal photographer for the day and was spouting ancient knowledge about the mountain folk all day.
the monstrous mountains we were casually driving around. My favorite part of the drive was seeing the mud brick houses and one room houses randomly spattered in the hills. People hanging laundry and sweeping their front step just off the road where Middle of Nowhere meets Beautiful Mountains. We paused in front of one of these houses to take pictures of the hills in Maimara. My tour guide was this old old man named Jorge with broken teeth. But he was so excited to have young blood on his tour. He was my personal photographer for the day and was spouting ancient knowledge about the mountain folk all day. As we continued on to Tilcara I got excited to see the Incan ruins. Until Jorge told us that they were all reproductions. The only original is in Tucuman - a town not on the agenda. Despite the blow to my expectations, the ruins were cool. It was interesting to see how the 
people would haved lived in these tiny little stone huts on the height of mountains with no vegetation but forests of cacti. They must have been a resourceful people.
people would haved lived in these tiny little stone huts on the height of mountains with no vegetation but forests of cacti. They must have been a resourceful people.After wandering the ruins for half an hour we made it to the Archaeological Museum of Tilcara. If you are an archaeology nerd, Salta and Jujuy are for you. I am not so much an archaeology nerd, though I appreciated how important the recovered objects are to the history of Argentina and its people. I appreciated that the sun had come out and I removed one layer without being cold!
Back in the car, we drove onwards to Humahuaca - the northernmost point of the day. We stopped at the Tropic of Capricorn on our way. It's kind of 
cool to think that I was on a major line of latitude. We ate lunch in Humahuaca at the most meager little 'restaurant' that only exists because Humahuaca has become a turist stop. I think it was the only restaurant there. The town is about three blocks big. And this city made me decide that Salta and Jujuy are very much like Mexico.
cool to think that I was on a major line of latitude. We ate lunch in Humahuaca at the most meager little 'restaurant' that only exists because Humahuaca has become a turist stop. I think it was the only restaurant there. The town is about three blocks big. And this city made me decide that Salta and Jujuy are very much like Mexico. The people have similar features, rounder faces, darker skin and they show their age. This one woman, I just loved her face. Her wrinkles were like folds in a well worn bedsheet. She wanted to sell me some earrings she had made. Just like in Mexico, the mall comes to you. All of the little artisans (and I mean little because they are a short people) hobble up to you trying to sell you silver bracelets or wood carved mate cups or hand-knit ponchos. Ponchos are not back in - not outside of the mountains. The men are also like Mexicans.
While South American men are aggressive, the men here are just gross. The cat-calling the whistling and the kissing...I eventually ended up yelling at this 15 year old boys that I was not a dog. That's what I felt like. I mean you whistle and make kissing noises for a dog. Not a person. Ew. But anywho, I wandered around Humuhuaca amidst the vendors and up to the massive stone monument as the sun was setting.
While South American men are aggressive, the men here are just gross. The cat-calling the whistling and the kissing...I eventually ended up yelling at this 15 year old boys that I was not a dog. That's what I felt like. I mean you whistle and make kissing noises for a dog. Not a person. Ew. But anywho, I wandered around Humuhuaca amidst the vendors and up to the massive stone monument as the sun was setting.We took a long drive to the capital of Jujuy, Jujuy. Here we stopped at the government building and saw the Salon de las Banderas where the origianl flag of Argentina is kept. Then we also visited La Catedral de Jujuy. That's another thing. Salta and Jujuy are very christ-y. I mean that in the most non-offensive way possible. It's just very Christian. Not spiritual. Just crosses and replicas of the Virgin Mary and churches everywhere. I think that may have to do with why I didn't dig the vibe there. The sites I saw were lovely, and the people I met were great, but I suppose I prefer Mendoza to Salta.
The best part about Salta was when Kristian taught me how to play pool. Do yo know that I have been trying to play lefty my whole life? Newsflash: I'm not a lefty. It went like this. I shot horrifically - which I had warned him about. Then Kristian went to shoot creating a bridge with his left hand. So I said, you're a lefty? And he goes, no. And then I learned how to shoot pool for real. Turns out I'm not that terrible.
One day left in Salta. About half of my trip had been on the anthropological/educational side, so I decided to end my trip with a bang.
Friday I went bungee jumping. Yup. My long-awaited dream of jumping off a bridge over a river (thank you Mandy Moore in Chasing Liberty) was finally going to happen!!!
BESOS!!!
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