Dust and poverty. This is what marks the north-west of Argentina. And people always sweeping. What for...? I really felt a tourist, terrible thing. You come, you see the views, people try to sell you things, you don´t mix, you don´t talk, you go away.
Today I went up the Humahuaca gorge, all the way to the small town of Humahuaca. Whenever the van stopped somewhere, vendors would approach the door, selling all sorts of small souvenirs. Small children would be around their mothers, older children would also be selling things. I thought they were all too warmly dressed for the summer temperatures we encountered up on those altitudes.
Another beautiful gorge, Humahuaca, impressive colours and lots of traces of the Incas. Villages that reminded me a lot of others I had seen many years ago in the egyptian desert and the cemetaries high above in the hills, for the spirits to be closer to the gods. Up to a certain point, on our way from Salta, the scenery was quite green. Then it was the desert again. And dust. Important battles took place in this region in the 19th century for Argentina´s independence. The border with Bolivia was 160 Kms away.
It is very nice to see the lively central squares of every place we passed from, small or big. We got to Humahuaca at lunch time, so, besides the people selling things to the tourists, there were lots of people having lunch in the open air, things they had brought from home. I had time to go to the local market, not the one for the tourists. Lots of fruits and vegetables, things for the home, clothes. And poverty. What do those people dream of, I wondered. They probably dream of something. What? What do they want for their kids? What can they hope for their kids...?
On the way back, we stopped in Uquía. The church paintings were produced by Indians in Cuzco, in the 17th century, under the supervision of the Spanish. They told them to paint angels. They painted the Spanish, with their weapons and everything, and they put wings on them. Angels of good and evil.
Interesting group of people today. A young couple from Israel, travelling for five months in the Latin America. And a brother a sister from Columbia, he working in Buenos Aires, she living with their mother in Geneva. Interesting, cheerful people, they were very good company.
Rarely do I start talking to people sitting next to me in the plane. Unless... I have something to say about the book they are reading. On my way to Ushuaia, the man next to me was reading Naomi Klein´s “The shock doctrine”. That led ot fourty fives minutes of conversation (a monologue, really; it seems he was eager to talk). The man sitting next to me today in the flight from Salta to Buenos Aires was reading Saramago´s “The story of the siege of Lisbon”. Two hours of conversation, the whole flight, about everything, really.
Today I went up the Humahuaca gorge, all the way to the small town of Humahuaca. Whenever the van stopped somewhere, vendors would approach the door, selling all sorts of small souvenirs. Small children would be around their mothers, older children would also be selling things. I thought they were all too warmly dressed for the summer temperatures we encountered up on those altitudes.
Another beautiful gorge, Humahuaca, impressive colours and lots of traces of the Incas. Villages that reminded me a lot of others I had seen many years ago in the egyptian desert and the cemetaries high above in the hills, for the spirits to be closer to the gods. Up to a certain point, on our way from Salta, the scenery was quite green. Then it was the desert again. And dust. Important battles took place in this region in the 19th century for Argentina´s independence. The border with Bolivia was 160 Kms away.
It is very nice to see the lively central squares of every place we passed from, small or big. We got to Humahuaca at lunch time, so, besides the people selling things to the tourists, there were lots of people having lunch in the open air, things they had brought from home. I had time to go to the local market, not the one for the tourists. Lots of fruits and vegetables, things for the home, clothes. And poverty. What do those people dream of, I wondered. They probably dream of something. What? What do they want for their kids? What can they hope for their kids...?
On the way back, we stopped in Uquía. The church paintings were produced by Indians in Cuzco, in the 17th century, under the supervision of the Spanish. They told them to paint angels. They painted the Spanish, with their weapons and everything, and they put wings on them. Angels of good and evil.
Interesting group of people today. A young couple from Israel, travelling for five months in the Latin America. And a brother a sister from Columbia, he working in Buenos Aires, she living with their mother in Geneva. Interesting, cheerful people, they were very good company.
Rarely do I start talking to people sitting next to me in the plane. Unless... I have something to say about the book they are reading. On my way to Ushuaia, the man next to me was reading Naomi Klein´s “The shock doctrine”. That led ot fourty fives minutes of conversation (a monologue, really; it seems he was eager to talk). The man sitting next to me today in the flight from Salta to Buenos Aires was reading Saramago´s “The story of the siege of Lisbon”. Two hours of conversation, the whole flight, about everything, really.
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