Argentina

The day I arrived in Salta I walked around and found a hostel with a ping-pong table. Serious business, but not many competitors.
Salta is a beautiful old town with a big pink cathedral and tons of colonial era buildings. I hiked to the top of a hill on the edge of town and caught an excellent view of the city. Afterwards, I tried to bargain with a street vendor for a pancho, but like all my bargaining experiences in Argentina, was completely shot down.

Street Vendor "20 pesos"
David "OK.....10 pesos"
Street Vendor "no"
David "OK, OK, 15 pesos?"
Street Vendor "no"
David "A little less, come on"
Street Vendor "You buy it or you don't."

After Salta I took a bus to Cafayate - a small town near the Quebrada de Cafayate - a beautiful gorge reminiscent of northern arizona or southern utah. There are also wineries and vineyards there.
I found an empty hostel, rented a bike, and biked through the Quebrada. Awesomely beautiful.
Although after about 30 km, the bike seat felt like a rock. My ass hurt worse than that one time (GTT).
On the way back I stopped at a house that I thought was a cafe. The owner came out and I asked for a glass of wine - he poured me a shot glass of his home brew. It was one of the worst wines I have ever tried - I had one of those faces usually reserved for drinks with much higher alcohol contents. As I finished, he stared at me with an quizzical, happy expression that said "it's good right?"
David "Yeahhh...how much is it again?"
The next day I visited some petroglyphs on the edge of the gorge. Lots of goats.

After parting with the Kearls I stopped in the city of Resistencia on my way to Salta. Resistencia is a town known for its numerous outdoor sculptures and commitment to public art. I arrived late on friday night and couldn't find a place to stay for quite some time . The place I was recommended to stay, quite literally, did not exist - it had been demolished into rubble.
I huffed and puffed until I found the seedy luxor hotel. Overpriced, unhelpful staff, and full or partying Argentineans. I cranked up the enormous fan in the room to drown out the sounds of the partygoers.
I awoke early the next morning, did some laundry and tried, but was unable, to buy my bus ticket for Salta. The protests concerning food taxes had flared up again and the roads were completely blocked for an unforseeable amount of time.
I retreated back to the center of town to make the most of my saturday - but everything I was recommended to do was closed or was no longer in existence. Museums, cafes, markets, all of it. There were no people on the streets. Where was I? Why were all the hotels full?
I finally found a shitty open air market selling cheap plastic imports. I talked with a girl at a selling station who seemed completely baffled at my presence.

"why are you here?"
"just to...you know...see things - be here"
"huh?"

After that I found the main sculpture park but was quite disappointed. The sculptures reminded me of those around the campus of my alma mater. Seemingly erected as consolation prizes for students' efforts.
Fuck this - I'm leaving.
I called the bus ticket office and grifted information from the lady - the roads were now open or there was another way out or a purple dragon had brokered peace between arguing sides. My spanish still isn't that great. The important thing was that I could leave.
I hurriedly packed my things, rushed to the bus station, but got there early. So I took shower in the terminal bathroom. Hopped the bus and drifted off to sleep during a Cedric the Entertainer movie.
Salta is beautiful

Frank, Zach, and I parted ways after visiting the awesome Iguazu Falls.
The brothers will be in Buenos Aires for a few days until they began their long haul back to the States. They both seem quite shocked to be heading back after 5 1/2 months away.
I have continued on to Resistencia, a city of half a million on the border with Paraguay known for its' hundreds of outdoor sculptures and chamame music (something like South American polka). Although I´m not sure how much chamaming I'll be doing - feeling a bit under the weather.
Iguazu Falls was, as everyone says, spectacular and jaw-dropping. We hiked around the park for most of the day getting misted by the falls. The fact there were a fair number of other tourists did not diminish the experience.
We hopped on the bus back to town and sat next to some American girls that refreshed my bitterness.
Before I left, the Kearls´loaded me up with items they wouldn't be needing: alarm clock, sun block, aspirin, and water purification tablets. The time spent travelling with them went quickly and was a blast. I already miss them but am looking forward to new adventures alone.

We awoke early in Cordoba, grabbed the free hostel breakfast and jetted to Capilla del Monte via minibus. Capilla del Monte is a small town in the Central Sierra mountains of Argentina. It is known as a mystical place place that attracts extra-terrestrial visitors, is the home of a subterranean world of Elves, and is the center for some neo-hippie followings.
We strolled around town looking for a place to stay and everyone we spoke to seemed a bit odd. Perhaps below their everyday veneer lurked a great understanding of mystic energy and universal consciousness that was only manifested in this region - or maybe they´d just been alone in the mountains too long. We found a cheap, bare concrete room with a space heater and two beds then we made our way back out.
We hiked to a small gorge on private property and gazed at the landscape. We then understood why this place was thought to contain elves and other fairy tale creatures. The land was other-worldy with numerous tiny caves, crevasses, and natural rock sculptures set in craggy creek beds.
Zach almost stepped on a snake. I believe Zach would be a good guest writer for a "dangers and annoyances" section of a travel book.
We found our way out and strolled around for quite awhile longer then returned to the hostal after dinner and tried to get the space heater to light. Frank and I nearly lost our eyebrows. I tried to go around front and ask the landlady but the front door never opened. Everytime I rang all I heard was a single phrase uttered (in spanish of course) that I could not comprehend. Finally, I rang the bell and the adjacent windows flew open to reveal the naked, corpulent body of the 50+ year-old landlady.
"I am taking a shower"
"OH MY, yes, yes"
"15 minutes - OK?"
"Of course - of course"
The heater worked fine after her help.