Breakfast on the plaza
Old gentlemen reading the newspaper
A very friendly waiter
Heavy clouds in the distance
Horses passing the plaza, the gauchos dressed up, the Getrampel nicely coordinatedly uncoordinated
People watching, with a huge freshly squeezed orange juice, good (!) coffee and the best medialunas I’ve had in Argentina in front of me
Life’s good
It’s Saturday


Another two first times: flight cancelled.
And a night in a 5***** hotel for free.
Not bad. Not bad.
And I was thinking, it couldn’t have happened in a less convenient moment – it’s Saturday, I was travelling in the North, with no plans for Sunday other than to be back in BsAs to dance tango in the evening. Which I did. Cause we had to get up at 3.45am to catch our flight back. Oh well. Short, but nice, nice.
It feels strange to know that this was my last trip in Argentina. For now. For this time.
I fell in love with the North just the way I fell in love with the South.



I love the painted words on Latin American walls. Instead of signs.
I love capturing normal people doing normal things
Driving past
Normal NeverComeAgain/AMillionTimesToBeRepeated-scenes


Salta-ndo. Gente de salta.

Salinas grandes. South of the border.

No words can describe the happy feeling you get by looking at all these colours
Shades of red and orange
Green and grey
Beige and yellow
Pink and purple
Mixed with clouds
High up
Down low
Bright white and rainy grey
And then the sun comes out and everything changes again

Our earth in the making
Nature’s wonders, concentrated
And me in the middle of all of this, in awe

Cactus. An ocean of.


Passing over 4000m; through the rain and dropping temperatures
Down again, as curvy as up, and there they lay in front of us: las Salinas Grandes
The Salar de Uyuni in the winter of 2002 were dry
This time, I walk in the salty water of the flats, further South, across the border. It’s summer.
It’s 2011, my Spanish includes verbs now, my hair is shorter, my thoughts different, everything nothing is the same.
It’s the usual. And still amazing.
However you look at it.


This time, though, I taste the salt waster which is unsurprisingly surprisingly salty
Funny pictures and white feet, white legs, white socks, white shoes
When it dries, your skin reflects the sun in a million tiny little crystals
On the way back: a truck loaded with a lot of nitroglycerine, driving at 3km/h, people waiting, people watching
I ran out of words for Northern Argentina two days ago, so I just look out of the window, while Mercedes and Esteban talk about Uruguayan politics and the 1980s

A scenic drive through everchanging colours
Another day in the North
Short encounters with people from here and there, BsAs, Bariloche, Denkmark. Switzerland. Uruguay. Humahuaca, Jujuy.

Back in Purmamarca: a short hike around the mountains, more colours, more ohs and ahs, completely unnecessary, but oh well, you know.

Töpferware. Enriched my cup collection. Yeah.

The North: shaded. A thousand colours. And more.
Breathtaking rock formations. Millions of years.
Valles Calchaquíes
La Quebrada de Escoipe
A private tour, me loves
Sun, but not too much
Clouds, many
In the morning, they hang so low that they touch the foot of the mountains
To the right
To the left
Every direction offers amazing views
It’s hard to decide where to turn my head

La garganta del diablo

Once again I am reminded of my geomorphology classes at university
I love nature
I love those geological eras that make our lives but a blink in time
Interesting how we can talk about anything like a status quo when if comes to our planet – as if things were ‘done’ by now. As if mountains weren’t still oroding and valleys still filling up with sediments.
No visible changes in our life time and we’ll all long be gone by the time anything will have moved by a few centimeters.
No hike no rock climbing zone
Erosion underway in what seems stable
It’s all about wind and water



eroding. still.

“Siempre es mejor ser socio” (‘downtown’ Cafayate)