Our Bolivian experience was just as the guidebooks had foretold- it is an incredibly poor county and everything is dirt cheap ($2 Jäger bombs, see pic) the roads are hazardous, there are frequent strikes and the busses break down (see previous entry) the cab drivers deal cocaine and there are many scams and con-artists (Helen was robbed by a money magician and a man tried multiple times to sell us a fossil that was clearly just a regular rock). And whilst Bolivia has some amazing places, "rough around the edges" was an understatement and after nine crazy days we decided we were exhausted! We began our rocky, windy, dusty 17hr journey to Villazon, the Bolivian boarder (avoid if you can!) Tip: if you're Australian trying to make this trip you need a receipt of a reciprocal fee before you cross!
First stop in Argentina was Salta, a beautiful colonial city! We were enjoying wandering the streets but to our dismay everything was closed!! It was like a ghost town! The reason: Argentina was playing in the World Cup :) the nation literally stops for each game. So we found a big-screen and joined the locals who waited anxiously and were rewarded when Ged their hero scored in the 90th minute and won! They went wild! There were impromptu street ticket-tape parades, dancing, marching bands and horns. Every man, child, mannequin and dog in the city had a Messi jersey!! Wild! I caught the fever and am also going for Argentina! Vamos Argentina!!!!
Tristem, a friend we had met on the salt flats one night had recommended we go to a farm called 'Aldea Luna' to do some WWOOLFing in Jujuy (northern Argentina). And so we did! Ged was initially disappointed that out first week in the land of steak and wine was going to be spent at a vegetarian farm, but it turned out to be the most perfect choice. Thanks Tristem!
For those who don't know WWOOLFing is pretty much where you volunteer your energy and work on an organic farm in exchange for board. We had a magic time here with the most beautiful, welcoming family: Elizabeth, Martín, Baby Anna, Geraldo and Martias.
Here's a poem I wrote about our stay:
Nestled in the Yungas hills between two rivers, Aldea Luna lies;
A place where energy, love and beauty is as endless as the skies.
In the garden Elizabeth shares her passion for all plants;
pumpkins, chills, mint, snow-peas, sustainability and ants.
Tiny carrot seeds are planted shallow and the earth around should be fine;
whereas raddish you plant deeper, they have strong roots and mixed in the salad are divine.
Pick the chills when bright red, the broccoli before it flowers;
the beetroot leaves are edible and the mustard has medicinal powers.
Clearing, planting and harvesting, as we chatted our thumbs turned green;
Shovels, machetes and axes were more Ged and Rudolfo's scene!
New friends from around the globe, laughing, sharing riddles and translating;
The time went by quickly, strong friendships we were creating.
In the kitchen was more magic; learning to make salads, soups and fresh bread!
All ingredients from the garden, healthy and 'muy rico' -we were extremely well fed!
In the afternoons Ged, Joni and I learnt Spanish from the very best of teachers;
Conjugations, directions, ordering food and how to get by at bus stations.
I loved hiking the forest trails, by my side the trusty dogs;
or staying home and playing with baby Anna when the paths were thick with fogs.
We peeled oranges to make marmalade, collected wood for the fire;
everyone shared their talents- Tiago, Naomi and Marianna on the guitar, Mel sharing mate and paints for Guya.
As night fell the temperature dropped and we played cards and star-gazed;
making fun of Kiwis and the French in one hundred different ways.
Solar panel energy, sustainable living and eating green;
mountains, hammocks and fresh air- thanks Elizabeth, Martin and Gerardo for sharing your dream.
Nestled in the Yungas hill between two rivers, Aldea Luna lies;
A place of energy, love and beauty, a place where it's hard to say goodbyes.
If you want to learn more about Aldea luna the moon village
http://www.aldealuna.com.ar
