As we wandered in and out of cheese shops, artisan centres and Parrillas barbecuing various meats I began to wonder what Giancarlo was up to. I could sense that he was on some kind of a “ mission” and said so to Joe. But what? He was obviously looking for something. Which he couldn’t find. Eventually we arrived back at the restaurant where we had lunched and with Antonio’s help Marita (who jointly owns the place with her husband) came out. Only then did I understand what had been going on. Giancarlo had been looking for Llama meat! She had none. So in the absence of anyone willing to supply and let us cook a Llama we settled for “Chicken Buddha.” Please could Joe use her kitchen to cook this, his speciality dish? He was, after all, an internationally known chef! This was arranged. Two chickens were purchased and we sat down to enjoy the starters whilst Joe set to behind the scenes. In the kitchen. For the uninitiated “Chicken Buddha” is basically a chicken with a bottle stuck up the place where the sun don’t shine. A coke bottle is ideal. It is filled with a combination of water, herbs and spices and inserted in the chickens rear end. The chicken is cooked, by necessity in the upright position, standing in a dish with a little water added. And no doubt Olive Oil is used in its preparation as well. It comes out of the oven bolt upright. Wings folded across its chest. Looking for all the world like a statue of a Buddha. Albeit brown. And smelling delicious. It is Joe’s speciality. We bought a couple of bottles of red wine. A Malbec Cabernet Sauvignon. “San Pedro De Yachochuya.” Produced by a vineyard situated at about 6000 feet above sea level. And invited the other co-owner Thomas Michel to join us. And later on, when business had quietened down, Marita.

It was the beginning of an enjoyable and interesting night. The German born Thomas Michel had worked all over South America. As an aid worker. In fact he had worked all over the world before buying the restaurant and settling in Tafi. Where he still has some function as a consultant with whatever aid agency he had previously worked for. His wife was of Syrian origin but had been born in Tucuman. They had initially met at a conference. Met up again later. And stayed together. She is still working with the Indians in an advisory capacity. Both spoke English as well as Spanish and were a progressive couple. The wine that we drank was virtually unknown outside of the immediate area. Yet it was very, very good. And they had plans to export it. They had also dabbled with the possibility of making and selling Grappa. A very potent and quite evil drink. An Italian speciality. Of course we had to try his brand out. And it was just as nasty, if not more so, than I remembered it to be from my days in Italy! They had put a lot of work into their restaurant. And it showed. I wish them well. In whatever they finish up doing.

Early next day I had a walk around Tafi. The place was crawling with mangy dogs. And tethered Llamas. The surrounding Sierras were shrouded in fog. Which got steadily thicker as our bus wound its way tortuously up the mountains. We were going to the summits of Calchquies. Roughly 10,000 feet above sea level and I was as disappointed as hell that I couldn’t see past the roadside verges. Then suddenly we were out of the fog. Into brilliant sunshine. And a clear deep blue sky. Looking down upon the clouds! We stopped where the road crosses the Abra del Infiernillo. And there, to my utter amazement, was a small group of Indians, complete with Llamas, peddling their wares. Now that is what I call enterprise. And it shows a fine knowledge of local weather conditions. Fog in the valleys. Sunshine in the mountains. Giancarlo acquired me a little pamphlet called El Infiernillo from one of the Indians (who I think wrote it) but as it is all in Spanish I haven’t quite worked it out yet! Eventually we dropped back down into the valley. Through a strangely attractive yet arid landscape and onto a dirt road leading to the ruins of Quilmes. A place I had long wanted to see. It is one of the most important archaeological sites in Argentina. Situated on the slopes of the Sierra de Quilmes at an altitude of 6000 feet was a central fortification. Flanked to the North and South by two other such fortifications which controlled the valley. Its strategic situation and the width of its walls, up to ten feet thick, made it impregnable. The population of some 3000 were at the heart of the resistance to Spanish rule in the 17th century. The Spaniards defeated these people in the only way that they could. By the simple tactic of cutting them off from water and food supplies. The 270 surviving families were marched out of the Northwest and settled in a reservation South of Buenos Aires. And forced to work in a quarry. Most lost their lives in the smallpox epidemic of 1718. By 1730 only 141 were left and the reservation closed in 1812. With no survivors. Truly a tragic tale. And if you are wondering where the largest brewery in Argentina, Quilmes, got its name from, it got it from the town built on the site of the reservation.

The ruins are impressive. As is the nearby modern hotel, situated within walking distance of the site. Apparently it only rains on about 5 days in every year. If you happen to be staying at the hotel on one of those days you don’t get charged for that days stay! I wandered about a bit and saw quite a few White-Fronted Woodpeckers knocking hell out of the many Cardoons growing on the hillsides. Large Cacti which grow up to 20 feet high and live to be 100 - 200 years old. It was hot and dusty work and as our next visit was scheduled to be to be a conducted tour of a vineyard and some serious wine-tasting, we didn’t hang about. I had quite a thirst to slake! “Vasica.” white and red wine went down the hatch in equal quantities. Served by the ubiquitous Antonio working hard behind the bar! Eventually, re-hydrated enough to look around the place I did just that. Escorted by one Pablo. My newly found English-speaking friend. He explained how the machinery, antique and modern, actually worked. And showed me not just the production gear but took me around the original owners house. Lunch was taken at the El Rancho restaurant in Cafayate. Immediately afterwards we were hustled into a taxi by Giancarlo and shortly pulled up outside a house. Rividavia 452. The gallery of Calixto Mamani. A local artist specialising in oil paintings, woodcarving, metalwork and ceramics. A nice, very talented man, who gave us licence to roam at will around his premises. Making it back to the bus with time to spare we made a phone call or two and then set off for the Gulch of Cafayate. The gorge is about 40 miles long. A desert landscape. With rocks of contrasting colours. Changing views. And unusual rock formations. Most of them with names. “The Toad.” A huge rock squatting by the side of the road was particularly aptly named. In “The Amphitheatre” a couple of musicians were playing the flute and guitar. And singing. You couldn’t design acoustics like those in effect there so I recorded a little of their music to remind me of how good it sounded. I gave “The Devil’s Throat” a miss. I might have climbed up there 40 years ago. But not now!

We arrived at the Hotel Del Dique at about 6.30 pm. A newish multi-level hotel overlooking one of the largest artificial lakes in Argentina. Built so that the angled balconies of all the rooms have unobstructed 180 degree views. It was near to here where a couple of Andean Guans flopped across the road. Birds I had long wanted to see. Primitive. Almost prehistoric. And not unlike the fossil Archaeopteryx.  Supper was the local fish speciality Prejerry. With sweet potatoes. And coca tea. “A unique and finely delicate fish” according to the book. But somewhat overcooked in this case. Jujuy, population 200,000 or thereabouts, was founded in 1561 and then in 1575, when it was destroyed by the Indians. The city was finally established in 1593. Wars and earthquakes have ensured that few colonial remains exist. It is the capital of one of the smallest and poorest provinces in the region but it is a pleasant enough stopping-off place en route to Bolivia. Or for excursions into the Puna. A high, rolling, largely barren plain where we were heading for. As well as to the national parks to the North East. It is great fun saying Jujuy. It’s pronounced “Hoo - Hooey.” Try it and see.

By now I had streaming cold! Or maybe it was something to do with the altitude. Pedro, our driver, acknowledged his early morning round of applause with his usual regal wave. And away we went accompanied by a lecture from our guide Antonio. On Coca leaves. And their “special” properties. Then all became clear. Pedro didn’t have a tumour in his left cheek after all. It was a wad of Coca leaves. And he was driving our bus around all those hair- raising mountain roads! The Indians chew it all the time, as amongst its other effects, it is an appetite suppressant. And Pedro was a very large man! Antonio filled his own cheek first, then went down the bus handing out the leaves from the customary green plastic bag. Which could be bought on any street corner. In Jujuy the women were all walking about holding parasols above their heads to keep out the blazing sun. So I put on my hat. Purchased on the island of Gozo some weeks before. Just in case. Arriving at the hotel Altos De La Vina, high up on a hillside above the town, I spotted a Golden-Rumped Euphonia, an astonishingly beautiful little bird, doing its level best to get into one of the second floor hotel bedrooms. An unusual way to spot a new bird!

We hired a converted Ford Transit van driven by a bloke called Gabriell and set off in the afternoon for the Parque Nacional Calilegua.  80 miles away to the North East. And about 60 miles South of the Tropic of Capricorn. It was an interesting trip! Argentinian roads do not conform to any standards other than those in force in that country. For example there are no speed bumps to make you reduce speed. But there are what could best be described as speed sumps! Lowered concreted sections which force you to slow down just as efficiently. Whose real purpose is to channel the streams and rivers over the roads in the wet season and back into their original watercourses. Unusual and efficient. But what about driving on a road at an altitude of nearly 4500 feet and going uphill with the engine switched off ???  In the UK, the A719 near Croy Bay just South of Ayr is known as “Electric Brae.” I’ve been there and the effect is similar. With the engine switched off the vehicle also continues to travel uphill! But his road, being at such an altitude, seemed that much more impressive. Our guide “explained” all about magnetic and gravitational forces. Even introducing a bit of the paranormal into his spiel. It was he said “a mystery.” A mystery is the one thing that it is not. I have looked into this so-called “phenomenon” before. After going up (or was it down) “Electric Brae.”It is an optical illusion. Albeit one that is hard to believe. And seeing is not always about believing! Usually it is a stretch of road in a hilly area where the level horizon is obscured. If the horizon cannot be seen or is not level then it is easy to be fooled by objects that we expect to be vertical, but which aren’t really. And people often overestimate the angle of a slope. If you are standing on a slope of 1 degrees it will seem like one of 5 degrees. And if you are standing on a slope of 5 degrees it will seem like you are on a slope of 30 degrees. It is not always simple to demonstrate that a slope which appears to go uphill is really going downhill! Careful surveying and a good topographical map may well be needed. It is easy though to rule out magnetic and gravitational anomalies. Plastic bottles and rubber balls will also appear to roll uphill. And gravitational anomalies are always small. All the same, illusion or not, it is hellish impressive! You have to see it to disbelieve it. Or something like that!

       ROD ADAMS.