Tuesday 18 March 2014

Por Las Puertos El Desierto


Seeing Nizha again, holding her and kissing her felt unreal.  Three long months of waking up each morning and still feeling her close from my dreams; missing her madly and feeling like I would do anything to have her back in my arms had brought me to this moment.  It had been a long journey to get me here, and as soon as we kissed I knew it was worth it.  She is such a beautiful girl, so strong, yet still so delicate.  Now we could make some plans together, wake up each morning and see what the day will bring.  Since my plane had been delayed so long, it was too late to make the journey to San Carlos, so we would stay a night in Salta and then leave the next morning.  We walked out of the airport and I was introduced to one of the most legendary, likeable men I have ever met.

Juan Carlos Bustos, Nizhas father, is nearly 80 years old, but goes about life like he is 40.  He never stops.  He doesn´t have a home as such, he just drives and drives, stays at friends and families houses for a few nights here and there, is happiest when he has something to fix or do and somewhere to drive to.  He has a way of talking to people in a manner and voice that people just like him straight away.  His car is a miracle. He drives it like it is a part of him, it breaks and fails a lot, but he has this way of knowing exactly where to touch it to get it running again.  Sometimes it needs a push, sometimes a kick, but he always gets it going.  It’s a 20 year old Dhaitsu, and is converted into a gas engine.  So for 3 quid he can do 300 kilometres.  It has no clocks or dials that work, so you never know how fast you are going, or how much petrol, it is a true work of art.  Meeting him for that first time and shaking his hand, I loved him from that first moment.

We hit the road for the hour drive to Salta; it felt good to be finally free of the airport life. The province of Salta had a much different atmosphere to Buenos Aires, and I liked it immediately.  It has such a wild atmosphere to it.  Dogs run free, motorbikes with kids driving them are swerving all around you.  The old man chewing coca leaves sitting in the same spot in the shade that he has done for decades.  The dogs and cats have their own world here too.  They live freely; I have still never seen one dog on a lead.  When the sun is hottest, they lie with their friends in their favourite spot.  It is like a true canine community.  Wherever you walk, there are dogs running free, and some not so free.  But they are just left alone here.  There are people that feed them of course.  But they walk when they want to walk, and go where they want to.  Juan was once attacked by a ´Dogo´ it is a massive beast that has a lock jaw, he had to grab it by the ears and force its jaws off his leg.  I must admit, when you are walking and big dogs are coming up to you barking, you get a little chill of fear, but you always keep a strong presence, as that is what they sense.

When I got off the plane at Salta, I went to make a rolly, and realised I had lost my tobacco pouch.  I really loved that pouch, and was a bit gutted I had lost it.  It was a gift from my brother in law, and it made smoking much more stylish.  Oh well, easy come easy go.  We went looking for a shop that sold tobacco which is a rare import here; only the gypsys and foreigners smoke it.  We found a shop and I got 40 grams for about 1.50 quid.  To change your money from dollars into Pesos, you walk the street until you find someone saying ´Cambio´ and you change it with him for a much better exchange rate than the banks.  It was quite strange going up to a man in the street and changing your money.  They bribe the police so they are left alone to do it.  I changed a hundred dollars into a thousand pesos and had enough to last a few weeks.  Salta is a city that still has a lot of its colonial architecture; a massive pink cathedral sits in its central plaza.  All cities in South America are built around a square; they are the first grounds that a new city is built on.  The buildings around it are like something out of another time; old brown doors, faded clay bricks, truly beautiful vintage surroundings.

With some fresh tobacco, imported from The Netherlands we make our way to the house where we are staying.  It is the house of Juan’s´ good friends in San Carlos.  He stays there when he is passing through Salta.  It is a big communal house built by his friend Miguel.  They have 2 big dogs that patrol the roof, and another dog inside.  They welcome us in like family, and then they go with Juan to pick up some Empanadas and Cerveza.  Niz and I are alone together for the first time, and we talk, kiss, hug and I give her a bottle of beer I brought from England.  It is Heather Ale, and when we were in Edinburgh, it was one of our favourites.  Juan and the girls return and he shows me how to eat empanadas, bite the top off, and then put a little spoon full of spicy sauce inside.  They are deliciosa!  After the meal we go to bed, and we lay in eachothers arms for the first time in 3 months. 

All windows of all the houses have bars on them, and this very fine metal net to keep the insects out.  At first I thought it was become crime was so frequent here, but it is more that it is because it is so hot, and you need the windows open at all times.  The house is really big and well designed.  Everything is built with a communal mind.  Tables and chairs, BBQ´s, it is culturally strange to eat by yourself, drink by yourself.  You share everything, and that is the way here.  We spend the morning cuddling and talking, eating some breakfast and then when Juan returned we start our journey to San Carlos.  But first we eat some empanadas, drink a cerveza and then head into the mountains.  We drive through the desert landscape, past cactus plants, houses that are half built or half destroyed piles of rubble.  The tempo of the day is much slower here.  When I got off the plane at Buenos Aires, there were 4 guys with a cardboard fence around them ´fixing´ a tile on the floor.  There were hitting the tiles so slowly with no rush whatsoever.  You feel that tempo wherever you go.  You drive on roads that are just dust and stones, the cars get put through a lot here and the heat dries everything.  Industry and growth is slow, but still sure.  Life finds a way.  People build their houses, do their business, but just at a much more slower tempo.

We start to approach a mountain range that Nizha tells me is one of the most beautuiful.  The sun, the rain and thousands, maybe millions of years of existence have shaped.  They all look like they are human construction, you look for the first time, and it looks like there is a village there, the shapes can trick you along with the heat.  Mountains that look like giant man made castles with forts and moats.  Faces in the mountains and there is one where they even have live music.  A massive cavern has been eroded and gives the most naturally haunting reverb for people to sing in.  We drive past some of the most magnificent sights my eyes have ever seen.  Even in the mountain wilderness there are indigenous people selling handmade bracelets and necklaces.  I buy one, because I never can resist.  I like to have one for each place and experience I remember fondly.  We carry on driving though and start to approach Cafayate, it is on The Route Of the Vino, and is a very beautiful little town.  I ask Nizha about the wine and the cost, and she tells me that a bottle of the local produce from here costs about 60 pesos, which is 6 dollars.  I was surprised, as I thought it should be cheaper.  Until she came out with a massive 5 litre bottle!  It is better than any wine I tasted in England.

We drive 30 km from Cafayate to San Carlos and this is where we reach the true desert.  We are nearly 2000 metres above sea level and as we got to the Mountains, the heat rose massively.  We drive along Route 40, which is the road that runs from the top of Argentina to the bottom.  Cruising through the desert road as the sun draws every bit of moisture away we arrive at San Carlos which is a tiny little town, Nizha says ´Here it it´, I look out the window to see 5 half built shacks in the desert and I say ´What! ´ But then I look out the other window and see  many beautiful handmade clay houses (still lots of half built piles also).   3 km further into the desert is the home of Nizha and her Mother.  Wow, it is such a beautiful home.  Because the country is so vast; people own a lot of land and Nizhas family own like 4 hectres.  The house is a beautiful handmade wonder, built by an eccentric Italian.  That´s the thing, most of the houses here are built by the people who live in them.  They get help building them, but their homes are projects that can take many years to build.   So he I was, at my destination with the girl I love, with lots of new creatures, landscapes and feelings in my heart………..


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