August 15-16: Back to SALTA

The "gauchos" are very proud of who they are as the community truely believes in the strengh of its land (Salta) and identity. They are not wrong at that point since most argentinians suffer from the fact they are children of colonists. When we arrived in Salta early morning, we came across a national ceremony in the main square "9 de Julio". Obviously, gauchos were royally posing with their horses and several patriotic speeches were theatrically pronounced with convinction and honour. Very expressive scene with begging trumpets and crying tambourine. I was amused by the show and asked for some more by celebrating our ultimate night in Salta in a charming chacarera bar!!

August 14: YAVI

Yavi is just 15 minutes far from La Quiaca but going there was not as easy as we thought. At 6 in the evening no bus, no train, no taxi, no "coche" (short distance taxi), nothing could bring us there. We kept asking around for some tips: fruitless! Shall we go on foot? We had no clue what way to go (travelling without a map!!) until a man waved at us from his car and shouted: "Yavi!!" as if he guessed our embarassment. This father of three children was heading to Yavi anyway as he lived there with his family. He suggested to give us a lift and bring us back to La Quiaca for a few pesos. We happily accepted and crowded into the car next to the children and the angry wife... Yavi is peaceful, timeless, charming. Very interesting architecture (unique in the area) since adobe attractive houses with straw, clay and brick roofs give to the village its particular appeal. The 1540 (!) ancient church almost looks like the one in Uquia. White and elegant facade, golden and mysterious heart. On the way back, the twilight landscapes were simply stunning.

We enjoyed La Quiaca for a few more hours and waited for the last bus to Salta. Later, while all the passengers were having some sleep, the police brutaly entered the bus in the middle of the night (aroung 4am) and asked everyone to get off the vehicule with his personnal belongings. Luggage in the street, confusion in the air, passports ready, it suddenly turned into a military dictatorship. We never knew the purpose of this arrest but we surely noticed bolivian stamps were not welcomed!! Just a small bridge between the two countries and... a large disdain?

August 14-15: LA QUIACA

Everybody discouraged us to visit La Quiaca: "Es muy feo!" (it's very ugly!) Yet that repeated sentence strongly awakened our curiosity to visit the town. Listening to the description people made about it, we were expecting a very primitive poor little village. We were actually quite surprised to face a real town with an existing bus terminal, colored streets (some of them are even well-equipped), restaurants, parks, schools and a lot more. La Quiaca is almost a bolivian town as it is precisely located at the border with Bolivia (nearest bolivian city being Villazon) and there is a simple bridge separating the two countries (besides, argentinians usually mention La Quiaca to refer to something that is very far away). But La Quiaca is not all-smiles. Historically and until now, many bolivians overloaded with goods would rather cross the bridge daily to work in La Quiaca for miserable salaries (yet higher than the ones they could get in their own country). The main market reflects the current difficult situation, also does the bus terminal that is permenently full of people holding one million bags waiting to go home.

The bus to La Quiaca stopped infront of a school (usually located in the countryside in order to be close to several villages at once) and a bunch of children jumped in. Right at that moment, Javier, a beautiful child, started to chat with us. He pointed at where he lived from the window. This half bolivian kid shares the house with his sister and grandmother, he almost never meets his parents as they work in other cities but he's healthy, goes to school and have friends. Javier's situation can be defined as privileged since numerous orphans or poorer families hang around in town. Javier suddenly disappeared as the bus arrived at destination. We regretted not saying goodbye. But the young fellow was waiting for us outside with a smile and affectionately insisted on showing us the town. I fell in love with that little boy who was surprisingly mature and wise. Later on, we offered him strawberries and exchanged a farewell hug as we were heading to Yavi for the evening.