Today we did a little trip. Well, it was 520 kilometers all in, but was probably the best day trip anywhere in the world, ever. Unless you were there when the Berlin Wall came down (Thompsons: end of Communism special, £476 including flights and B&B, which in this instance stands for Bratwurst and Bundesliga, find yer own fucking hotel), or were alive 4000 years ago to see the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (Virginium Sailaway special, organised by Richard Branson’s great, great, great, great… great, great grandad, 17 months, if winds were good), or happened to be at Igausu last week.

We went from Salta and headed northwest, possibly northeast, possibly somewhere else, into the Andes. And as a life-long (very very bad) skier, I’ve met loads of mountains, most of them very intimately lying face down with snow up my nose and a ski-pole up the jacksy, but I’ve never seen anything like the Andes. They are simply exquisite. And every corner you turn you’re presented with different ones, different colours, different shapes, some covered with those fantastic ‘signpost cactuses’ (ok, ‘cacTI’) that are about 5 metres high, others with herds of cattle, sheep or even more exotic creatures.

After visiting the salt flats, which are just something else, in that they’re salt flats and most other things in the world aren’t, we stopped for lunch at a tiny village high up in the mountains called San Antonio de los Cobres. Population of about 9, eight of whom attack you as you get out of the car with bad teeth and ‘local handicrafts’. They don’t understand the simple words: I DON’T NEED ANOTHER FUCKING RED PONCHO, 16 IS ENOUGH FOR ANY GUILT-LADEN WESTERNER. And if one more person shoved a little woolen llama in my face I was going to justifiably murder them.

Its a mining town, occupied by ‘indiginous’ people who are the lovely descendents of the Incas. Its a tiny and very sleepy town. What would be called a ‘one horse town’ but in this instance that didn’t seem as appropriate as a ‘one llama town’.

Which I ate for lunch.

I’m sorry, I know they’re lovely, smiley, cuddly, furry, wool-laden little things, but when a man’s hungry from a morning of trying to de-strangle the English language from the heavily Spanish mouth of our delightful guide, he’ll go a bit ‘native’. And llama was not just on the menu (in about 18 different varieties) but highly recommended by Ramirez the guide. Who promptly ordered chicken. Mel had canneloni, in keeping with the Inca ways of old Rome(?).

Llama is not only delicious but very healthy as its fat-free. I’m never going to eat anything else.

Happy eating

A xxxx