San Juan, but not Puerto Rico :(

On Wednesday during our mid-class break from poetry, Rose and I asked our friend Ian what he was doing for the weekend. He said he was going to Valle de la Luna in San Juan, and as it was a four-day weekend and we had the itch to get away, esp. Rose, we invited ourselves along. We couldn’t leave Wednesday night with him though, because we already had plans for Emily’s birthday. I tagged along with Ian to Retiro while he bought his bus ticket, which was infinitely helpful, because without explanation I could not have done it alone. It’s very disorganized and chaotic (surprised?). He also emailed the name and location of a hostel, where we made a reservation. That jump-start was incredibly helpful. Now I feel confident about planning trips, and this weekend (we leave tonight) it’s Cordoba with Emily, Samantha, and Pedro.

After a mad rush of packing, we caught the bus easily. We were in mid-grade seats on the second story. There are three levels: semi-cama, ejecutivo, and cama: recline, recline a lot, and bed. The buses here are really wonderful. We left at 9:00 PM and arrived around noon, but it didn’t feel like a 15-hour bus ride. We got a sizeable, edible, warm dinner, and I could sleep decently because my chair reclined a lot, unlike on an airplane where I can hardly ever sleep. The only unfortunate part was when they put on movies out loud, forcing me to watch the X-Files movie. It was absolutely terrible, but it was dubbed in Spanish with Spanish subtitles that were clearly done by a different translator, so that made it more delightful.

The pleasantness ended at the terminal. When we reserved the hostel, we’d been told someone would come get us at the bus terminal, so we called to ask where we should meet this person. Only then were we informed that the hostel was another four hours outside of San Juan proper. We should have figured that out on our own, of course, but I guess we just assumed that things were more central than they are. After a ton of indecision and information-gathering, we decided to stay in San Juan in a nearby hostel. We wandered around trying to find it for a while, at one point passing a row of construction workers and receiving a veritable hailstorm of piropos (catcalls).

After reservations and a shower, we attempted to plan the weekend, which was not easy. I don’t recommend showing up in a small town with nothing but a short list of local attractions and phone numbers. It wasn’t enough.

We did see some great things in San Juan that day though. There was a huge gaucho parade called the cabalgata. They were on their way to visit the Difunta Correa (more on that later). Then we went to a nearby winery. Our tour guide was extremely nice, and we were the only ones on the tour, and I learned a lot, especially about the champagne that is made in cool caves.

The next day was very long. We got picked up around 7 by a tour company to go see Valle de la Luna and the Difunta Correa. It was a lot of driving, but not too bad. The company was pretty fun, two middle-aged talkative divorcees and a very nice driver.

The Difunta Correa was fantastic. It’s a shrine for a woman who died crossing the desert with her infant. The infant was found three days after she died, still drinking the milk from her breast. So bizarre. Since then, miracle upon miracle has been attributed to her, but she’s not been canonized as a saint yet. Still, it’s the most-visited religious site in South America. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but from what I understand, people go ask for her help (buying a car or house, winning a sports match, popping the question) and either before or after the event they bring her tokens of thanks (a mini replica of the car or house, a trophy or medal, the wedding dress or other clothes of the fiancée). The walls are also covered in general “Gracias Difunta Correa” tokens. What I really wanted to know was, what ever happened to the infant? Did he grow up to do great things? There has to be some reason the miracle happened…

Valle de la Luna was very beautiful. There was such a variety of landscape—parts looked like the moon, while some cliffs looked like the Grand Canyon. There are also some great rock formations.

Sunday we rode horses outside the city, in a gorgeous area of vineyards framed by mountains. The guide was so nice; when I mentioned that I wanted to try some grapes (the current harvest), he asked a local farmer, who gave us a huge bag. Yum.

The only notable thing that happened this week was an extreme piropo. Well, not exactly a piropo. I was feeling all stuffed up and unable to hear well out of one ear, so I called a doctor. Here it is common for the doctors to make house calls; I guess it’s not that surprising considering that nearly every restaurant delivers, even if you just want a cup of coffee. It turned out to be a throat infection. Anyway, the doctor asked where I was from and how long I’d been here, like every stranger I ever talk to. Then he said he’d only been here since January, from Bolivia. “I’m new here too. We could get to know the city together,” he said. I can deal with piropos and not get freaked out because it’s part of the culture here, but that was a little much coming from a doctor. Miriam found it pretty hilarious though, ha ha.

Too many pictures this time to incorporate them with the text, so I’ll upload separately.