The Pre-Andes of Jujuy

We travelled from Encarnacion in Paraguay back to the riverside city of Corrientes in Argentina (via Posadas) so we could see some local folk dancing Francesca was interested in. However, best laid plans in South America often go awry, and we ended up just spending a night before the grueling overnight bus from Corrientes to Salta which bought us across the Chaco province in Northern Argentina (I saw two large maned wolves from my window seat at about 3am) from the Northeast to the Northwest. We arrived in the Andean foothills in the morning, climbing steadily, until we reached Salta on the 14th October. The capital of Salta province, Salta city was just a short stop for us on our ultimate destination two hours further North, San Salvador de Jujuy (Jujuy, for short, and pronounced Hoo-Hoo-ee). Places would now be recognized in terms of their altitude, and Jujuy, at 1249 meters (4122 feet), was well within the acceptable range of height above sea level before the effects of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) would be felt.

After the journey neither of us were at our best so we did not notice when we left a bag on the bus full of medicine (headache pills, etc.). We were kept in Salta for two hours by the bus company Flechabus (who kept telling us “10 minutes, 10 minutes”), before we realized we would have to wait another hour, and so we gave up and continued to Jujuy. Francesca assures me the journey was very pleasant, but I was definitely too sick to appreciate it, and we arrived, got some tourist information at the bus station, and taxied to our hotel where we collapsed and slept for the next few days.

It is never pleasant being sick, but when we awoke and decided to check out the town a few days later on the 16th October, we were pleasantly surprised. San Salvador de Jujuy (Jujuy Capital) is the capital of the breakaway Jujuy province (it used to be joined with Salta province which is to the South). The province borders Bolivia to the North and Chile to the West, and Jujuy is the last big town you hit before crossing into Bolivia on the pan-American highway that travels all the way up to California in one straight shot. Located just below the tropics, the city of Jujuy enjoys warm weather all year round, and itself is bordered by two rivers – the Rio Grande and the Rio Xibi Xibi. These rivers are fed from the natural spring waters that fall from the mountains to the North, and, in Summer, from melting ice in the same mountains. When weather is particularly hot in Summer, flash flooding is not unknown – in 2011 many people died in one such instance.

Jujuy also has historical significance due to it’s location. This region is where many of the bloody battles for independence were fought against the Spanish invading from the North. General Manuel Belgrano was the regional leader for independence (we saw his mausoleum at the National Flag Monument in Rosario), and it was Plaza Belgrano that we went to first.

At one end of the plaza is the Cabildo (town hall), where Belgrano displayed his newly designed flag to rally his army against the Spanish; and at the other, the Casa de Gobierno, or Governor’s House, where the oldest surviving flag is kept (the original Belgrano version disappeared into Bolivia never to be seen again).

The plaza itself is very pleasant, and we even found a little artist’s passageway off to one side – very touristy but a nice enough diversion. The Cabildo on the other hand is a pretty insignificant looking and worn building nowadays. It is actually now used as a police station as far as we could make out, with a rather interesting museum attached.

The police museum in Jujuy is not for the feint-hearted. On the ground floor, there are some rather tame displays of mannequins in uniforms, etc., but on the first floor is an exhibit which showcases crimes, criminals and objects related to all things criminal. The guns, drugs and assorted weapons make for pretty grim viewing, but it is the poster-style flip board with graphic police photographs of crimes and car accidents and suicides that really make you squirm. We decided NOT to include any photos we took of these in our blog, because they are too grim.

After leaving the police museum, we went to illegally change money on the black market (irony!), but could not find a cambio with a good enough rate (check http://dolarblue.net/ for the latest rates), so we made our way to the archeology museum. This little museum (AR$5 each) contained a good-sized collection of indigenous ceramics and other objects from the Andean region.

An interesting piece was the Diosa de la Fertilidad, or Goddess of fertility, which is a reproduced theme across the world. This ancient piece was carved in stone and looked extremely alien (von Daniken, anyone?). The Goddess is giving birth to a snake – a well-used fertility symbol.

There were also indigenous drug kits – wooden holders for fire making equipment which would be used to burn hallucinogenic drugs and smoked in pipes – also on display.

The Incans made it down to this region (from their base in Peru, they came to Northern Argentina – even the Incan royalty made pilgrimages to the thermal waters in the region), and along with them came their rituals – including the pretty horrific practice of human sacrifice. The museum had several skulls and even preserved mummies on display. Pretty creepy.

Funnily enough, my favorite item in the museum was actually a nandu, the South American emu, or rhea, made out of twigs and a pine cone. It was not on display, just sitting on a desk in one of the oficinas. I was told off for taking a picture of it in the room, but it was totally worth it!

After the museum, I managed to find a soft spoken elderly gentleman who had a bum bag, who was a cambio who offered a good rate (at the time $AR9 for the dollar, compared to the official rate of $AR5.6). We exchanged and I went to meet Francesca in the museo de arte religioso.

The museum and attached church were nice enough (with the ubiquitous homeless beggars outside that make you think how much money the church has tied up in the gold and expensive trappings inside). However, I noticed a severity and grotesqueness about the art on display – more even than usual for Catholic art. Jesus bleeding with gushing wounds and being whipped on his way to the cross. After taking some snaps, we decided to leave.

Francesca and I made our way to the museo historico provincial, which is dedicated to all things colonial, mostly including the revolution and independence wars. Indeed, this is where Juan Galo Lavalle was shot dead, through the front door which you can find on display here. A typical colonial building with inner courtyards and adjoining rooms, the austere house was an OK museum – and a good chance to get out of the relentless sunshine.

Lavalle lived at this house at the end of his life (1797 – 1841), which was full of military campaigning. He fought against Uruguay’s hero General Artigas, fought against the Spanish in the Andes alongside José de San Martin. He was governor of Mendoza province and was declared a full general on the battlefield after kicking some Brazilian butt in 1827. It was at this point, as if proof were needed, that Lavalle showed that military men should stay out of politics as he led a coup against the Federal Party government, executing the leader without trial. This caused a civil war, and San Martin, father of the nation, hightailed it to Europe to watch from a safe distance as the country tore itself apart. It was only after Lavalle was defeated in battle by Juan Manuel de Rosas that he gave up all claim to power and fled to Uruguay.

The war continued however, with Lavalle in a supporting role only, until he was finally harried and chased by Manuel Oribe in the West. Defeated in Tucuman and La Rioja, Lavalle was finally fatally, accidentally, killed by soldiers shooting up a house with suspected Unitarians in it. Lavalle was hidden and boiled up by his followers, allegedly so that his body would not be desecrated (boiling is OK then?), and his bones are now buried in Recolleta cemetery in Buenos Aires.

My favorite thing in the museum though were some mannequins that reminded me of Doctor Manhattan from The Watchmen. Cool!

After the museum, we began heading back to our hotel, and stopped off at Organizacion Barrial Tupac Amaru, a community-run collective that focuses on indigenous and local people’s needs. Named after Tupac Amaru, the last emperor of the Incan empire who was executed by the Spanish, they had a clinic for children on the 1st and 2nd floors, and we discovered, quite by accident, a local radio station on the roof called Radio Pachamama. Pachamama is a goddess akin to the Western concept of Mother Earth – except cooler because she is a fertility goddess and causes earthquakes!

We hung around the station for some pictures while the newsreader took a smoke break and played some tunes. On the ground floor were dozens of dioramas in glass boxes made of clay depicting different scenes of the native people’s lifestyles in the Andes – from Aztecs to Incas, Chile to Argentina. These people’s mixed with the Incan empire – they lived simply but were experienced agriculturalists. They hunted, carved intricate stone menhirs, performed strange burial ceremonies and murdered children in horrible ways including burying them alive on the highest volcanic peaks.

Jujuy itself was settled in 1593 despite attacks from the aggressive hill-dwelling natives – it kept growing and growing. It almost did not survive the wars of independence, with the Spanish attacking over and over again from Bolivia. A famous exodus from Jujuy was when Belgrano himself evacuated the city and burnt it to the ground to stop the Spanish getting their hands on it. It wasn’t until the 19th Century when the sugarcane industry restored the town to something livable. Petrol was discovered in 1969 so better roads and infrastructure followed, paving the way for tourism.

We had set up an English speaking guide for the next day, but a fat guy who only spoke Spanish annoyingly turned up – “My son speaks, English – but me? No.” Thanks. We told him to drop us back at the hotel and beat it. Next stop Tawantisuyo.

Tawantisuyo is a tourist agency based in Jujuy ran by a slimy asshole called Hugo. He took the name from the old native word for the Incan Empire. Hopefully he won’t last long as operating in Jujuy as he tried to rip us off by charging us double the price he told us on completion of the tour. A full report of his dishonesty is being posted on tripadvisor. Do not use any company with him working there.

To cut a long moan short, we left with a guide and his translator (brother and sister) in a car on the 18th October to tour up through Quebrada de Huamahuaca, a 155 km valley running North from Jujuy.

It was on the way out of the city that we saw the railway which really connected Jujuy with the rest of the world for the first time in the 20th Century. We saw countless illegal buildings built by Bolivian migrants who were squatting land that was previously forested. A growing problem, migration from countries such as Bolivia puts a huge strain on Argentina’s resources, but at the moment, treaties are in place to accept them from the neighboring countries (not sure how long that will last though). Huamahuaca itself is a town at the North end of the Quebrada (valley), and the valley itself was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2003.

Our first stop on the way, was Maimara, a little village that apparently followed the local tradition of carnival where people are ‘single’ for 10 days an dance, drink and have fun with anyone they want with no shame! It is a big draw, apparently, for obvious reasons.

After Maimara (which means ‘The Other Year’ in Aymaran), we drove onwards and upwards until we reached a stop for gas. We ordered a tried and tested medicine for altitude sickness – coca tea! It was in a tea bag, so I am not sure how strong it was – but it tasted OK and made me feel a lot more awake! I had started to feel a little giddy and faint after getting out of the car in Maimara and walking around – it is still only at 2334 meters! The trip was supposed to go all the way up to 4374 meters, so hopefully the coca tea would help.

We ploughed onwards, and upwards another 40 km North along the beautiful road to the historical town of Uquia.  We had gone up another 600 or so meters and were now at 2824 meters in altitude. Earthquakes occur frequently in this area – every 40 years on average, but the place always gets rebuilt. One remarkable building which we saw was the Iglesia de San Francisco de Paula. This church had been built in 1691, with 1 meter thick adobe walls to protect from tremors, but it has had to be rebuilt several times – with its towers finally succumbing to earthquake in the 20th Century. The altar is made of wood, and gold leaf, and on the walls hang the real attractions: several paintings, done by natives of angels. These angels are all Spanish men, carrying guns. It is believed that the Spanish told the natives that angels look like them except with wings, and so the natives painted the angels as Spanish men – with flamingo wings! This is what they knew, so this is what they painted…the Spanish motives are unclear, but it is likely that they were trying to manipulate the native population by suggesting they, the Spanish, were like angels.

The last city on the Quebrada de Huamahuaca, was Huamahuaca itself. The Quechua word Huamahuaca means ‘heads that cry’, after the Spanish used to cut rebels heads off and place them on sticks there.

We visited the underwhelming Monumento a la Independencia, which was up a huge flight of stairs (122 for the 122 km from Jujuy). It was now late morning, extremely hot, and we had passed the 3000 meters above sea level mark.

In the main square were gathered hundreds of people. A real tourist draw here is the church, at midday, when the bells ring and a life size statue of Saint Francis Solano appears from the bell tower, and makes the sign of a cross ‘blessing’ the crowd.

After watching the blessing, we walked around for awhile – we saw the different colored corns of the Andes (maize – a starchy corncob), and also walked around a little factory churning out local art – basically just lots of molds, lots of clay and some guys painting them up (this lost some of the charm of the ‘art’ for me).

We had a lunch in Huamahuaca (empanadas, goat curry, llama milanesa, and a fruit and goat cheese desert). It was my first time trying goat and llama, and they both tasted great! Goat was a bit dry, and Francesca said she lloved the llama!

After lunch we all got back to the car and made the drive to the final part of the tour we wanted to see – the Hornocal. Located in the Serrania de Hornocal, the Hornocal is a colorful set of mountains formed by limestone. The different minerals in the mountains give them their spectacular colors. The area had been populated since mankind first arrived here 10,000 years ago (hunter/gatherers), and we found out the Incans even used the route for trade, and for visiting some thermal baths near Jujuy.

At 4300 meters, our viewpoint was the highest altitude I had been to. It was difficult to move, I felt sluggish, air deprived (giggling like a loon), and had a headache building up. Drinking the coca tea helped, as did sipping water – I think I was more affected than Francesca being an ex-smoker.

On our way back down we were treated to the sight of some wild vicuñas. A relative of the llama, vicuñas are caught for wool production and then returned to the wild. In old Incan law, only royals were allowed to wear clothes made from vicuña wool. Nowadays, vicuña wool is so expensive, a coat can set you back US$20,000.

They are the smallest of the camelids in the region, and it was fun watching them come down the mountain (because of a condor which our driver spotted, but we did not). Condors are known to pick up baby vicuñas and throw them on rocks to eat them!

The road up is also the road down – it is very narrow, very bendy. Gratefully we reached the bottom – already feeling the effects of altitude sickness lifting – and we started heading South again.

We stopped for some photos at the Tropic of Capricorn, and we zoomed on towards the town of Tilcara, our final stop of the day.

Tilcara is back at 2500 meter above sea level (much more reasonable!). It is a small town much the same as Maimara and Uquia (adobe buildings with locally sourced woods, such as cactus), but it has more archeological significance, because it contains the Pucará, which is an old pre-Incan fort built in the 12th Century by the Omaguaca people overlooking the valley of the Rio Grande. Today, the fort is restored, and visitors can walk around it and view the old windowless living quarters, sites of religious ceremonies and animal stables.

This Pucará lasted until the Incans finally conquered the land in the 15th Century, shortly before their decline, when it was used a military outpost to collect mined ore.

We walked around the botanical garden for awhile – here they have a vast array of different cacti, including ones which were flowering and ones which were only an inch big! Llamas were also kept, and I even fed one (against the rules). They seemed pretty well behaved, but apparently they spit when angered or annoyed.

The ruins were pretty interesting, and very well restored. An local marching band was walking around the site for some unknown reason – I was just glad no-one was playing Sound of Silence on panpipes.

We also managed to get to the Museo Archeologico which was open until 6pm. They had mannequins in traditional indian dress, lots of artifacts dug from the Pucará, and more from neighboring countries. It was an OK museum where we learnt most of the ethnological information I write about in the blog.

We got back in the early evening, and after the arguments about money that ensued, we were left in the morning, stranded high and dry by Hugo from Tawantisuyo, and the brother and sister team who work for him.

Francesca had a backup plan luckily, and we ended up on our next tour with the much better company Paisajes del Noroeste. This trip was to the Salt Flats in the highlands region, further West from Jujuy. We left at around 8.30 in the morning and left in a minivan with several other tourists.

The first stop was Purmamarca, which means desert city in the Aymaran language. Here we viewed the Cerro de los Siete Colores, another beautiful mountain with several shades of different colors.

We stopped in the town for awhile – these towns are mostly served by agriculture and tourism – and after getting the obligatory ‘big tree photo’ with a huge Algarrobo tree, we all bought snacks for a picnic in the slat flats.

This trip took us to the altitude of 4170 meters, but we both felt much better (except for the winding roads making us car sick). After going up and over the mountain pass, we headed back down to the salt flat region. On our way there we saw our first herd of Guanacos.

Much like the vicuña, the guarnaco is also related to the llama but is a little bigger than the vicuña. Our herd were being extremely fearful of a shepherd who was moving his goats, so we managed to get some good pictures from the bus while they were distracted.

Arriving at Salinas Grandes, we could barely see without sunglasses. The glare from the salt was intense. Much of the salt is being harvested and there were machines all over the place for the gathering, treating and collection of the salt.

It was still beautiful though, and the mountains that ringed the flats made it more so.

We collected some salt, had a picnic of some sandwiches and chips, and, because it was so intensely hot, made our way back to the minivans air-con.

We took the same route back as the way we had come, so many people fell asleep. I saw some more guarnacos on the way back and it was a great trip definitely recommendable. We even stopped again in Purmamarca for a little trek around the town near the colorful ‘seven colors’ mountain. It was so hot it was difficult to enjoy this, but it was nice to get some photos up close.

The next day on the 20th October, we left for Salta, further South, on our trip towards Patagonia.