Carnival

Day 41-42: The Andean North West, Argentina. “Things are definitely different here”, Karen said, as she gazed around at the chaotic street scene in front of us. “You can see it in the people, smell it it the air, feel it in the wind...”. She was absolutely right. Bolivia was going to be so different from anything we had encountered so far in South America. But for now, I just nodded in agreement and tucked into my spicy mutton soup. It was delicious!

Buenos Aires had woken up to her carnival as Karen and I had woken up with another sore head and a dawning realisation that our South American budget was no longer sustainable . For the past 4 weeks as we had hopped in and out of Argentina we had been spending between 20% and 100% more than we had planned, thanks in the main to Argentina's rampant inflation since the publication of our copy of the Lonely Planet back in 2009. That, coupled with our excesses in the country's capital and the additional cost of replacing the items that we had had stolen during our first night in BA, had all taken their toll.

If we were to keep our travels going there was only one thing for it: We had to head north to the relative sanctuary and cheaper cost of living offered by South America's less developed countries. We had to make it to Bolivia.

The problem was right now we were well over 1,000 miles south of the border and so if we were going to make it any time soon we had to get our skates on. Boarding a flight to Salta ate most of the miles and after an overnight stay in this the biggest town in Argentina's Andean North West we managed to find a bus to take us the remaining two hundred miles or so to La Quiaca. The eight hour journey took us through some of the most spectacular scenery imaginable: Snow capped volcanoes, mountain passes, deserts sprouting with huge cactus plants and the most amazing rock colours and formations which reminded me slightly of Arizona's famous Painted Desert

Argentina's northernmost point is a cold windy place; nestled in the heart of the Andes and some 3,500 miles from Ushuaia where we had been just a couple of weeks previously. La Quiaca used to be a bustling rail-road terminus but these days the main sign of life seems to be the hoards of weary Bolivians trudging between the border and the bus terminal toting heavy bags of wool for sale to their 'rich' southern neighbour. At well over 10,000 feet above sea level this was the highest altitude that Karen and I had ever been exposed to and it was beginning to show. We were encountering nausea, dizziness and the breathlessness with the slightest of exertions. And they call this area the lowlands!

The next chapter of our adventure was about the begin. Bring it on!!