Salta, for a day...

As I ascend the stairs of Hostel Terra Oculta at 5am, the young concierge comes down the stairs, "full" he says. I crouch down in the dark on the sidewalk with a Lonely Planet and without a clue. I find a sleepy concierge at Condor Hostel who gives me a brief tour. I crawl into bed at 6. I awaken several hours later with the rest of the dorm and walk out into illuminated Salta. I like it, but I’ve had my fill of plazas, malls and cafes for now and my mind was set on getting out. I immediately decide to go to Humahuaca, a small, Andean village settled by Quechans, descendent of the Incas.


People pedal curious looking chain driven cars down the sidewalk through the park close to the bus station. A tractor train decorated with Daffy Duck and Tom and Jerry graphics pulls cars full of ninos. I wander deeper into the barrio. Shards of glass are glued to the top of walls to deter burglars. A sermon blasts from a loudspeaker that can be heard for blocks. School children jump the wall of a school, and another group play futbol in the street. Close to the evangelizing loudspeaker, witch face graffiti is tagged on a electric pole with a phone number underneath. I eat pizza that night then wander the square. I gather dried fruit and salami, cereal, cookies for whatever the next few days might bring. I want to break free of the turista umbilical chord and simply wander.