Argentina's Amazing Race

I have a natural antipathy to “reality” TV shows which, as most everybody acknowledges, are no such thing – any group of people followed around by a camera crew is acting, whether or not they admit it. That said, I’ll plead guilty to never having watched one, and I don’t mind being castigated for ignorance. I nearly broke my pledge never to watch one this week, though, when The Amazing Race visited northwestern Argentina, one of my favorite parts of the country.

My friend and colleague Edward Hasbrouck – one of the best-traveled people I know, and we share a publisher – is an addict of The Amazing Race. He regularly reviews the show on his own blog, managing to provide serious travel information in the context of a program that might otherwise be considered frivolous. He sent me a link to the episode, which started in the northwestern wine region surrounding the town of Cafayate, and I even opened it, but was stymied by constant buffering on the YouTube page.

Nevertheless, today I received a copy of Edward’s regular newsletter with his critique of the episode, and I have a few comments on his comments, intended in the spirit of constructive criticism. Given his broad knowledge of the travel world, he knows far more than I do about most places, but there were a few items I could not let pass.

Argentina’s Andean Northwest is indeed the most indigenous region of the country and, as Edward notes, “All the people the racers met this week appeared to be of indigenous heritage” (such as the woman above, from the town of Humahuaca). He repeats, however, the oversimplification that “most Argentines are mainly or entirely of European ancestry, with the largest proportion descended from 19th and early 20th century immigrants.” It’s true, of course, that Argentina saw massive European immigration during that period, and it’s particularly noticeable in the cities, but a DNA study a few years ago – to which I don’t have the reference at hand - concluded that nearly half of all Argentines can trace their heritage back to the country’s pre-Columbian peoples. It doesn’t mean, of course, that the indigenous heritage is dominant everywhere, but it is significant.

I enjoyed Edward’s commentary on the outlying stockyards barrio of Mataderos, where the city meets the countryside in the Feria de Mataderos, a weekly street fair. I have to take exception, though, with Edwards statement that the barrio’s Nueva Chicago soccer gang can’t match the violence levels of Britain’s soccer hooligans. Argentina’s barras bravas are a plague on the sport, and often intimidate players on their own team and even management – which timidly gives them free tickets in hopes of maintaining “peace” with them. In fact, it’s not unusual for rival barras of the same team to attack each other, and deaths are not unusual – in a recent case, one barra shot at a bus carrying their rivals, and killed somebody on board. I wholeheartedly agree with Edward, though, that anybody attending a soccer match in Buenos Aires or elsewhere in the country should wear neutral colors – drab is good, drabber is better.

Finally, the grammatical pedant in me has to note that the word “Quilmes” – which describes the pre-Colombian fortress ruins near Cafayate (pictured above), the Buenos Aires suburb that takes its name from the indigenous people marched there by the Spaniards, and the beer that’s manufactured there today – does not have an accent. Likewise, the transport company Buquebus, which operates the ferries between Buenos Aires and Uruguay, has no accent.

Backroads of Salta (Part 1)

It’s been a frigid winter in Argentina, from the tip of Tierra del Fuego to the northern border with Bolivia - even at subtropical Iguazú, tonight’s temperature will bottom out around 41° F (5° C). Toward the end of the week, though, there’ll be a warming trend and, for the rest of the winter, the climate should be ideal for one of my favorite road trips: the roughly 500-km (300-mile) triangle from the northwestern colonial city of Salta and back via the polychrome Quebrada de Cafayate and its high desert wine country, the scenic Calchaquíes valley hamlets of Molinos and Cachi, and the vertiginous zigzag descent through the Quebrada de Escoipe.

Because it’s a circuit, this route is ideal for a rental car or, for those with more time and energy, a bicycle. Southbound from Salta, the smoothly paved road climbs slowly but steadily through the lush Lerma valley but becomes far more scenic when it crosses into the valley of the Río de las Conchas, otherwise known as the Quebrada de Cafayate. Here, the Sierra de Carahuasi reveals a series of free-standing landforms, box canyons (pictured above) and dunes reminiscent of southern Utah or northern New Mexico - not to mention “gauchos de Güemes” (pictured below) with the oversized, stiff leather chaps that protect them from the thorny backcountry brush. It’s roughly a three-hour drive to the town of Cafayate but, with stops to explore the scenery and take photographs, figure a late afternoon or early evening arrival.

With a population of about 10,000, Cafayate is the hub of one of the world’s highest wine-growing districts - at 1,660 meters (5,446 feet) above sea level, it enjoys warm days and cool nights that bring its grapes, most notably the fruity white Torrontés, to a perfect maturity. At this time of the year, of course, the vines stand leafless as pruning and other vineyard activities proceed, but by next month they’ll start leafing out - even in some nearby vineyards that are nearly a thousand meters higher.

While the vineyards may be dormant, the wineries are not, and Cafayate has more than half a dozen of them within staggering distance of each other - there is no need or excuse for a DUI here. On top of that, the traffic moves more slowly and cautiously, in town at least, than it does elsewhere in Argentina, so even slightly tipply pedestrians are safer than they might normally expect among some of South America’s worst drivers.

Calafate has seven wineries in town proper, and another three are within cycling distance; in some cases, as with Bodega Nanni and Bodega El Tránsito (pictured above), they’re literally right across the street from each other. My current favorite is the Pequeña Bodega Salvador Figueroa, a Lilliputian locale producing only 2,500 bottles of classic Malbec, 2,500 of oaked Malbec, and 600 bottles of Torrontés per annum. Most of them offer free tours and tasting though, in a few cases, there’s a token charge.

When you tire of tasting, one of Argentina’s most impressive archaeological sites is only half an hour’s drive south: the ruins of Quilmes, in Tucumán province (pictured above), are the closest thing to Machu Picchu to be found in Argentine territory. It’s best to stay in Cafayate, though; a two-night stay should suffice to visit the ruins and most if not all of the wineries. A personal favorite for accommodations is Hotel Killa Cafayate, just a couple blocks off the main plaza, but Villa Vicuña is also very fine and, for luxury, there’s the Sheraton-owned Hotel Patios de Cafayate (pictured below), on the grounds of Bodega El Esteco at the north end of town.

For those who have never dined on llama steak before, downtown’s Macacha (Avenida Güemes Norte 28) is the place to do so. Nearby Heladería Miranda offers wine-flavored ice cream - the fruity white Torrontés tops the red Cabernet (sadly, says the owner, Malbec grapes do not make good ice cream).

Within a few days, look for the rest of this backroads tour, covering the more rugged sector up the Calchaquíes valley to Molinos and Cachi, and then back to Salta.

Tourism in Ruins?

In late 1969, activists from the American Indian Movement (AIM) landed on Alcatraz Island, in San Francisco Bay. They occupied the island, (in)famous for its high profile prison which was then in ruins, for nearly two years to publicize Native American grievances.

Something similar happened last week in Argentina, when the Comunidad Indígena Quilmes took over the country's largest pre-Columbian ruins in the northwestern province of Tucumán. In its physical geography, the area resembles the indigenous highlands of New Mexico or Arizona, but the site itself is the closest thing Argentina has to a Machu Picchu.

In pre-Columbian times, Quilmes was an outlier of the Inka empire, and its inhabitants fought the Spaniards more tenaciously than the Inkas did, but eventually lost their struggle. Most of the survivors were deported to Buenos Aires, where their modern legacy is the name of an industrial suburb and Argentina's most popular beer brand.

It's still possible to visit the ruins, where members of the community are serving as guides for no charge (tips accepted, though). The on-site hotel, restaurant, museum, and even the toilets are closed to public use (apparently tied up in a related lawsuit), and nobody has a guess as to when the issue might be resolved.