South of the North (Cafayate, Argentina)

[I've been sans phone, sans internet (thank you, Bolivia), sans electricity (same, Bolivia), and sans time. Details to follow in further posts. Without further ado...]

Baby rama! Can't get enough of these little guys.

Another day trip down from Salta, having consumed too much red wine (haha, just kidding, what is 'too much red wine'?), the white Torrontes wines in the south were calling. This day trip included what any day trip would include: an organized bus that deposits you at pre-programmed stops, a comic of a tour guide that studied at NYU for a year, pre-fix lunch, singing "That's What Friends Are For" and/or "Jingle Bells" and/or "Tomorrow, Tomorrow!" at 8am on the bus in front of 21 perfect strangers, and a question of your approximate age (he was off by a decade, can you guess which side?).


Road to Cafayate

Road to Cafayate 2

First, the sights were spectacular. Though there are, oh, I don't know, 106 different Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Mouth) in South America, it didn't detract from the amazing form that this one took. Each ring that you climbed brought you higher and higher into what was once a waterfall that fell over and flooded the now arid region. Right next to the Devil's Mouth was a natural amphitheater, accompanied by a musician playing a flute to the dreamy melody of the indigenous people. The 45 degree cuts into the sides of the amphitheatre provided ample spaces for someone of my monkey nature to climb.


Natural Amphitheatre
 

Garganta del Diablo... Pretty sick rocks

Following the spectacular sights was the tasting of wines. To explain the phrase "Gatos de Flores," which was the name of one of the wines, our guide looked at me mid-story, which was quickly turning into a not-for-kids-story, to ask, "Oh, wait, are you over 18? Because the rest of the story may not be suitable if you are." Bright red with every curious German and French tourist, and A & R, staring at me, bubbling with laughter, I responded, "Yes. I am over 18. I am 19." By this point, I'm not sure that the guide believed me because he didn't finish the darn story! I suppose I'm over the tipping point in age now, when I start to take the mistake as a compliment. 'Starting' does not mean not turning a shade of purple when caught completely unaware that a person has gotten my age wrong...by nearly a decade. What a colorful day--in absolutely every aspect.