Onwards to Tilcara

Weather: Sun sun sun (and wind)

Llama Count: I saw 12 genuine bonafide llamas. I ate one llama steak. I think that means (if my maths is as good as always) that the llama count today is 11.

 I was almost stranded in Salta. The battle of barclays bank (version 2.0) took up much to much time.Apparently despite speaking to their fraud department on Tuesday I am still a persona no grata, con woman, and general thief, ie my card is still blocked. After another extortionate fifteen minutes on hold, in which I planned to find their freepost address and send them one of Cobbles´s finest products they unblocked the card (again.) So I was suprised to find myself on a bus happily heading to Tilcara as planned.

Travel sickness pill consumed, my general drowsiness was interrupted by the person sitting next to me, who having worked out my origin was desperate to practice her english. Turns out I was sitting next to what must be the number one cougar in Buenos Aires. In between showing me pictures of her grandchildren,  she happily listed the number of her boyfriends, each inhabiting a different town in north west Argentina, and a few younger ones in the various districts of Buenos Aires. Having advised me to go to Cuba without a boyfriend, and before I marry, she then turned into a fantastic tour guide, explaining the importance of the various towns, rocks, and men we passed. My favourite of which was the city Jujoy, whose pronunciation is close to the sound you make when someone elbows you in the ribs.

Tilcara is absurdly beautiful, if Wordsworth had seen this part of the Andes his head would have exploded. I arrive, dump stuff and hike up to the local inca fortress. If this is what the Incas considered to be a fortress, they only have themselves to blame that they surcumbed to the Spanish so quickly.

I wonder back to the hostel and soon discover I am the only non Argentinian there. Panic ensues, until I am assured by all hostel inhabitants that they speak fluent Spanglish and would really like me to join them for the evening. We head off to a pub, where I am fed llama steak and after dinner a folk band arrives complete with pan pipes and drum kit. Before long everyone is dancing- a dance that looks suspcioulsy similar to various reels. I head back to the hostel with exceptionally sore feet, with my new found Argentian friends at 4am.