Salta: Balcony Views and an Empanada Victory
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| Salta |
We arrived in Salta on December 30th. After a welcoming Cabify ride with a chatty driver, we were greeted by an incredibly warm Airbnb host and a lovely apartment that immediately felt like home. The balcony alone could have convinced us to stay longer — wide views, warm air, and that quiet mountain-city feeling that makes you slow down without even noticing.
We didn’t waste much time before heading out again, though. Our host’s first recommendation was empanadas, and honestly, when in Argentina, you don’t argue. At La Nueva Criollita we hit a small but meaningful jackpot: they had a cheese empanada without egg. Victory. The junior’s first empanada was met with a very serious taste test and an equally serious double thumbs up.
Later that day, things took a less triumphant turn. A mild headache crept in, slowly but stubbornly, until I found myself very much out of the game and far too close to the toilet bowl. Whether it was dehydration, a bit of altitude, or the two lunch beers (or all of the above), Salta made it clear that it wanted to be taken seriously. Sitting at around 1,200 meters above sea level, it’s not that high — but bodies are individuals, and mine clearly had opinions. Locals swear by coca leaves or candies to ease altitude symptoms but we didn't have luck finding those at the supermarket.
The next day was better, but somehow my entire time in Salta was shaded by a slightly off feeling — not terrible, just… not quite right.
New Year’s Eve, the Quiet Edition
New Year’s Eve matched my energy perfectly: calm, quiet, and uncomplicated. We wandered through a nearly deserted city, bought coca candies, played air hockey, and let the junior try an arcade car racing game. Later, we stocked up on snacks and watched The Super Mario Bros. Movie. After the kiddo fell asleep, we opened a bottle of red wine and sat on the balcony, enjoying the warm evening air and distant fireworks. No pressure, no big parties — just exactly right.
That same day, we also sorted out our rental car. Both old colleagues and our Airbnb host recommended the same place, Activa Rent a Car. After a bit of Googling, we realised it was literally across the street from where we were staying. Travel luck at its finest. We booked the car for January 2nd–4th, with the plan to return it straight at the airport. With limited time and my energy levels in mind, it felt like a good compromise.
Road Trip North: Flexible Rules and Big Landscapes
On January 2nd, we headed north toward Purmamarca, climbing up to around 2,200 meters. Matias had the honour of being the first — and only — driver on this leg of the journey. It didn’t take long to realise that driving rules here are more… flexible. Lanes are optional, pedestrians fend for themselves, and confidence is everything. Whoever has the most cojones goes first.
The drive itself was stunning. Lush green hills slowly transformed into dry, dramatic landscapes filled with cacti and layers of colour. Hunger eventually kicked in, and we started searching for food — which led us through tiny villages frozen in siesta silence. In Volcán, we finally found an open shop selling coca leaves and ice cream. The elderly man behind the counter asked where we were from, genuinely interested, and the whole moment felt unexpectedly wholesome. And all in Spanish, of course — though his accent was thiiiick.
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| Volcan |
Our accommodation was Mai Jaii, a few kilometres before Purmamarca. When we arrived it felt almost abandoned — door locked, no movement, just silence. Then we noticed a bell by the parking lot. One loud ring later, someone emerged from the back of the building, and suddenly the place came to life.
Purmamarca: Llamas, Layers of Colour, and a Change of Plans
Purmamarca was touristy, but also incredibly charming and beautiful. After checking into our hostel, we headed into town, following in the footsteps of colleagues who had been here before. Dinner included llama meat at del Sol, and afterwards we wandered to the starting point of the Seven Colour Hill trail. There were two llamas there (we didn't tell them about our dinner choises...) and the scenery seemed nice. We planned to hike it the next morning — the sun was already setting — and the junior still had energy left for the playground before bedtime.
That night, my body once again had its own plans. Stomach cramps, very little sleep, and by morning it was clear that pushing through a scenic hike wasn’t the right choice. We decided to skip the trail, do a quick visit to the nearby market, and head back to Salta.
Back to Salta: Half-Speed Days
The rest of the time was spent gently: a rooftop pool, Matias going for a run, and everything happening at half speed. It wasn’t the “full itinerary” version of Salta we might have imagined — but it was still Salta: warm air, mountain-city calm, and the kind of travel days where you just listen to what your body is saying and adjust.
Mendoza: Balcony Views & Malbec Nights
Our final stop in Argentina was Mendoza — wine country, wide skies, and a much-needed softer landing. Even the arrival had a story: our Uber driver looked exactly like my dad. The kiddo stared at him for a long moment before asking why that man looked just like grandpa. After a brief pause, he decided it couldn’t be him — grandma wasn’t there with him. Case closed. (Btw the resemblance was so spot on that even my grandma chuckled 😁)
We stayed in a high-rise a little outside the city centre, which meant lots of steps but also one of the best balcony views of the trip. The city stretched out beneath us, the full moon glowing above — it felt almost unreal. A perfect setting for a bottle of Malbec and absolutely no plans.
Wine, Moonlight, and Doing Less
We debated renting a car to explore wineries ourselves or organising something more structured. In the end, travel tiredness won. The constant planning and decision-making had quietly piled up, and slowing down felt like the real luxury. Days passed with walks, pool time, card games, and wine enjoyed without rushing anywhere.
Good Wi-Fi kept us connected to family back home, which grounded everything in a comforting way.
The Tomahawk (and Completing the Holy Trinity)
On our last night we did end up going for the tomahawk in Mendoza — at Chama Santuarion — and it was the perfect way to complete what now feels like the trip’s unofficial steak trilogy.
First came Buenos Aires: the melt-in-your-mouth ojo de bife at Don Julio. Then La Cabrera, with a table so full of sides it practically turned into a buffet. And finally Mendoza: a tomahawk that didn’t apologise for anything — bold, smoky, and unapologetically rich with that glorious fat-and-fire flavour. A perfect last meal for the meat country known as Argentina.
The Laundry Incident
On our last day, we made the classic mistake: last moment laundry.
It started innocently enough. We loaded the machine, picked a wash program, and added the drying cycle too. The display happily announced a total time of… hours.
On the way back to the apartment we asked reception how long our laundry slot was valid. Turns out it was more than an hour shorter than the program we’d chosen. Great.
When we finally went back down, we were hoping for just slightly damp clothes and a quick exit. Instead, opening the door released a cloud of steam… and inside was a hot, heavy pile of clothes that was still basically soaking wet. Not “a little moist”. More like: “a quick test of how much water a piece of clothing can possibly absorb.”
So we hauled everything out in small handfuls (so we wouldn’t burn our hands), and the rest of the evening turned into a proper drying operation: towels, improvised hanging, ironing — and a surprisingly effective YouTube lifehack involving a hairdryer and a plastic bag. It probably would’ve worked even better if we’d only had a few items, instead of half a wardrobe.
Lesson learned forever: never do laundry the day before departure.
Goodbye, Argentina
And then, just like that, Argentina came to an end. On the drive to the airport, No llores por mi Argentina by Serú Girán played on the radio, and I quietly teared up — the perfect, slightly dramatic soundtrack to a country like this.
Because Argentina gave us a bit of everything: the big-city buzz of Buenos Aires, the overwhelming force of Iguazú, the dry colours and altitude lessons up north around Salta and Purmamarca, and finally Mendoza’s slower rhythm — views from the balcony, a couple of glasses (ahem bottles...) of Malbec, and a much-needed pause from constant decision-making. It felt like we only caught glimpses of a huge, intense, warm country… but somehow those glimpses were enough to leave a mark.
We barely scratched the surface — but we’re leaving with full hearts.
But now we’d better get going. The next destination is already waiting.
-Sini
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