Arriving in Salta

     After waking up at 5 yesterday, we were in a cab to the border for a little over an hour.  Stopped at a little place to exchange Bolivianos for Argentinian pesos--it's funny how the bills here are torn and dirty and crumpled and that's fine, but if you pay with a US dollar they won't except it if there's a rent a quarter of a centimeter into it.
     It took about 2.5 hours for our line to get through the border.  Once we got to the one (!) open window, all we had to do was show our passports and tell where we were going.  Luckily it was the same line to exit Bolivia and enter Argentina, but with 2 different stops (both with just one window). Wished that we had a bike, because people who lived in La Quiaqa (the border town on the Argentinian side, the frequent travellers, and the bikers all passed through in a minute or two without being checked.  But we probably couldn't have passed for locals.
     The bus terminal was not "right outside the border"--every guide book we get is plainly written by someone who has never been to the country--but was a few blocks uphill.  Not far, but considering that my bag endeavored to kill me by catching on rusted trash cans and spinning in circles into the road at every bump it was a little taxing.
     We found a non-direct bus to Salta leaving at 12.30, and decided to take it because we figured that it was good to leave as early as possible.  The restaurant in the terminal was a nice oasis in the midst of all the chaos, and we had some great salads and edable pizza.  Then my mom went for a stroll down the street to look for an internet cafe (about 11.35 according to our watches; we still had a half an hour) and came running back upstairs.  The bus was pulling out of the station--it was an hour later in Argentina.
     After some running around a little panicking we got on the bus.  It was quite warm and soporific and we dozed for a little before coming across a border check.  Everybody got of the bus and got their luggage, then the police set a drug-sniffing dog through the bus and searched people's suitcases.  Fortunately it only took about 30 minutes to get through, and my case wasn't searched (probably because I'm a minor).
     Back on the bus for a little over an hour before our second border search.  This one took longer because they had half as many people going through the luggage.  It was also less pleasant, because we were standing directly in the sun.  While we were in line another bus company pulled up (one of the ones that left at 2.30 and that we had considered going on) and they just had a couple of people who cut in front of everybody.  The search was organized so that there was a line for men and a line for women, and the lady who was checking the womens' luggage was dumping everything out onto the ground.  There were about half as many men as women, so when the mens' line was done some people, my mother and I included, switched over.  Neither of us had to do more than show our passports.
     By now the country was changing from hilly and dusty and dry to green and more rolling hills as opposed to bumpy hills and forested--refreshing to the eye.  The road, too, was different.  Instead of dirt road, curving and twisting, we got a paved, fairly flat, straight road.
     The bus arrived in the town of Jujuy arount 6.20.  The town seemed nice from what we saw of it.    Unlike Bolivia, Argentina seems to have a middle class.
     Our new bus company was called Flecha Bus, and it left at 7.  Stopped in an internet cafe in the station to confirm our reservations, then waited for a while before our bus arrived.  Somehow we got the first three seats.  This meant that we had a great view, but it also meant that the speakers for the dubbed movies were right above our heads.
     Got to Salta around 9.30, and waited for a few minutes for a cab.  Also different from Bolivia (and Peru, the countries are fairly similar) is that the cabs have meters. 
     Our friend from our driving drip in the last few days (so much to catch up on, I'll write about this tomorrow) had told us that Salta was pretty but like so many of the cities in Portugal that he wasn't really excited about it.  We liked the relative European-ness, though, the outdoor cafes and the people out late. 
     The place we are staying is nice, and so is the person who showed us our room.  My parents went out to the store less than a block away, and we had pasta for dinner before crashing.
     Today my dad is sick, and has been in bed watching TV and trying to sleep.  For what we thought was breakfast my mom and I walked to the grocery and a panaderia a little beyond it, and got some necessities like bread, cheese, milk, rice, dulce de leche (best yet) and 7-up and yogurt for my father.
      It ended up being past noon when we arrived home with our 'breakfast' (we spent the morning sleeping in and then watching the second half of 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', subtitled not dubbed) and my mother and I greatly enjoyed alternating a slice of bread with butter and dulce and a slice of bread with oil, vingar, salt and cheese.
      While my dad slept some more we watched part of a really stupid movie, then slept quite soundly for a couple of hours.
     Soon we will go out to a grocery larger than our kitchen and try to make some of our traditional holiday food--baked macaroni and cheese.  
     We are looking forward to having a week in Salta, and so far we really like Argentina.  Despite a Columbian man telling us that it is the only South American to do checks and searches.
     Speaking of the Columbian he, as well as other people who inquire after my age, are amazed that I am 13 because of my height.  I am a good deal taller than most adults.
     Also, happy birthday Madi and happy belated birthday Christi.  And I should also say that I may not be able to post for a day or two because we don't have an adapter for Argentinian plugs and so can't charge the device.