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The bus broke down about half an hour out of town, we sat on the side of the road in the climbing heat until our driver managed to flag down a passing coach (from a rival company) which we clambered onto.
If Mendoza was hot then Salta was sticky. We were hoping for a town of the same ilk as the likes of Sucre with a large indigenous population and grand Colonial architecture, given its proximity to Bolivia. What we found was a shabby mix of contrete blocks and a pink cathedral. Granted, a higher indiginous population was evident, but as we found sitting in the Plaza on our first afternoon, they all seemed second class to the 'European' Argentinians as food was begged from our plates and tips stolen from tables. Struggling to find a half decent looking restaurant that evening we were none too impresed with Salta.
In the falling heat of the late afternoon the next day (it was too hot to venture out sooner) we headed for the Teleferiqo which carried us over about 4 blocks of town (crazy!) before starting the climb up Cerro San Bernardo. Standing at the top with great views across the city and rising Andes in the distance, our feelings towards Salta began to improve. Consutling our guide book for once, we headed to a recommended restaurant for dinner yet another Parrilla(!), Solar Del Convento. By candlelight we sampled our finest steaks so far in Argentina, with our friendly bow tied waiter plying us with free champagne all evening. Huge steaks, side orders, a bottle of fine wine, coffees and what we reckon was at least a bottle and a half of champers; the bill came to a staggering 13 quid! Ridiculous. On our way out we booked a table for the following evening.
We went to see how the other half lived, getting a bus to the leafy suburbs of San Lorenzo in the hills sorrounding the town. Beautivul huge houses, outdoor pools taken for granted it was hard to resist the temptation to scale the walls and jump in! We walked on past some amazing architecture of small castles, now hotels, and up for a hike in the Yungas. The vibrant budding spring trees was a stark contrast to the bleakness of Patagonia. On the way back to catch the bus we were treated to the spectacle of literally hundreds of parakeets noisily flying between the trees over our heads.
Back to Solar Del Convento and our waiter, Lorenzo, warmly greeted us. He was obviously happy with the tip we'd left him the previous evening as the champagne was even more free flowing. Lorenzo looked disappointed we couldn't come back again, but understood Buenos Aires was calling.
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