Give me The Cure

Today is another travel day as I finally leave the Salta and Jujuy provinces for good. But first I layover in Jujuy for 8 hours. I eat a hamburguesa with fried egg and pace the length of town.
I take an overnight bus eighteen hours to San Juan. While there, I walk what seems like a far distance down tiled sidewalks, beneath sycamores, lined by deep gutters carrying meltwater from the Andes. Most are fetid and garbage filled and smell quite rot. I am a sweaty mess as I am in a warm climate for the first time since Iguazu. The beaming, pony tailed proprietor of Zonda Hostel asks if I need a towel for a shower.

I eat some very salty, ham filled, lasagna and turn back towards the hostel hoping I’m not arriving back too late. But I’m far from it. I forget that its Saturday night in Argentina. Music and dancing fill the dining room. Recovering from illness, I’m in no condition for heavy partying, and I watch TV for the night and early morning while the concierge pours me complimentary glasses of wine.

The Cure plays and the Argentine revelers sing, "Tell me how you do that trick.." at the top of their lungs.