From San Pedro de Atacama to Argentinian border are leading two roads. On maps, they are looks like spider legs. One leg is going through Piedras Rojas to control point on south. Second one climb to almost 5 thousands meter above the sea, and is leading through one from highest border crossing on world – Paso Jama. Piedras Rojas tempted but I had fear that on road from Piedras to border I gonna be alone for few days only with salt desert, my shadow and vulture above my head. I chose second road through peaks of Andes. After few hours of rooting took me some strange couple. In theirs old car, in extreme speed 20km/h we climbed on alpinist altitudes. They looked and behave strange. We stopped in many places and they looked for some things among stones. Smugglers or something? Probably not, because 5 km before border they told me, that I can’t go with them further because they have fear that I can have something in my backpack. I camped in viewpoint where is possibility to watch flamingos. Maybe but on 4810m above the sea I didn’t looked for pink birds, but for oxygen. During last 5km with backpack on that altitude I found proof that something is wrong with atmosphere here…

That volcanos have almost 7 thousands meter!

My Easter breakfast

Here it is – Paso Jama. than was smile but during tht 5km with backpackto border I was like a fish out of water. Oxygen!

But for alpacas everything was cool 🙂

Paso Jama is a good name to describe that place. In Polish Jama sounds the same like word “cham” which means an arrogant, ill-mannered person. I waited there so many hours that I started looks like stake on border. Finally I went to car of 3 friends and we went from there. We are heading to Susques, my friends are going further but I decided to jump out and to go on Ruta 40. I’m going in sandals 6km to cross road. Than I see how Ruta 40 looks like in that place and I can’t believe! Nobody can go here. Or maybe only 4×4 and people with half of mind. I didn’t knew that is a place like “Black Hole” – it’s not so easy to leave it. In that hole I spend two nights fighting with gravitation and trying to leave. Nobody wanted to stop for me even that road was only one! Paso Jama, and everything is clear…

“Such a good place!” I said when I saw it. That was so amazing spot to hitchhike that I decided to stay there for 3 days…

Finally on crossroad stoped 3 gringos and I heard “Maybe I will wash window?”. Sounds familiar. Sounds in polish! Patrycja, Jola and Jacek came to Argentina to spend their vacations here and suddenly they rescue one hitchhiker with stone! Another time was true my idea of “One Car” – when I’m waiting too long I know that I’m waiting for some one, special car. That was the same here. Because I met them we stopped in many interesting places on our roads which normally I could not see with other driver. We say goodbye in Purmamarca, with mountains of Seven colors. Good name for that place.

And village? Small, sleepy, with unique atmosphere of village on border. That geographical but also cultural because culture here is very characteristic for that region, for region of Andes. Same blankets with wool from alpaca people want to sell gringos in Chile, Argentina, Bolivia and Peru. Through border of that four countries is fifth – Andes. With music, traditions, habits and even language. And with falling temperature to 5 degrees in April…

Messi is sayong that You can buy here… leaf of coca 🙂

In Purmamarca I met another French girl which is traveling through South America since many years and have cash only for selling handcraft. Still it’s huge surprise for me, because I accustomed to foreigners who are throw here cash on streets not who are collecting cash from them. I’m heading south with “quick” Gonzales. I think that Schumacher was his idol when he was young because he was cut every bend. I hope that he will not end like champion of Formula 1… He throw me out in San Salvador de Jujuy where still I heard echo of Paso Jama, and nobody through hours wanted to take me. I decided to went in bus 40km more, and because it’s not in my style I decided to also to punish myself and I walked to next village. To Pampa Blanca is 21km through villages and fields and maybe without my old sandals and stones above them that rout could be really nice. In village took me some old guy with blue eyes. He told me without any shame that his wife was a Nazi. BANG! I wanted to explain that not everyone who went from Germany here after II World War was a Nazi. “But she fight with alliance because she believed in Hitler’s ideology”. What I could say than? I talked with many people here about that thing. About ex Nazis who are “hiding” here, and in true they are live in very good situation in South America. But nobody cares about that here! If they are here, so what? We don’t care what they done in Europe, we have our own problems. With thrill and disgust I said goodbye to my driver with blue eyes and I went near 24h control point of police. And another time nobody wanted to stop for me. It’s because we are so close to Bolivia or what? I heard that hitchhiking there is very difficult but can be that influence from there is so strong even here?

Finally I rolled somehow to Salta. I wanted to jump over that place as quick as possible, to reach Cachi. To other side of city is 15 km so I though that I can in public bus. No way! In almost every big city in Argentina, You can’t buy paper ticket in buses. They are using only electronic cards which are really expansive, and it’s pointless to buy it when You’re tourist. Well, fuck it, I can walk! And when I started to walk I walked 41km in 24 hours! I’m standing in roundabout wet from sweat with few last bills in pocket and with sunset above mountains. I wanted to persuade driver who went directly to Cachi with truck and bulldozer on it (probably nothing can surprise me here). I ene wanted to go on that bulldozer but driver didn’t wanted to risk. Maybe even better because few minutes later stopped for me Enio in cisterna with 2 thousand liters of gasoline and 2 thousand beautiful folk songs from Andes. And climate in which we went to Catchi – fog, rain and cold – said me that was really good decision to not go on that bulldozer 🙂 But how we almost died when we went fall down in our truck, how I put my first stone and what is a story if it You see HERE.

Raod back I went on pickup and another time I didn’t saw anything from that magnificent views. In almost empty wallet I went once again to Salta. Capital of department. Capital of touristic region near two borders. Can You imagine that in that place You can change money only in banks? Or on street. I decided to go to Santander. I waited there… 2,5 hours! That’s best example for how people are working there (or maybe how they so everything to not to work). Finally when I reach cashier he told me that they change only dollars! God damn it! After 2,5 hours I didn’t had energy to throw stone so I throw some bad words and in 3 seconds I changed my cash on street of Salta. Salta from where I gonna take memories of decoration of waiting place in bank, huge convent and a lot of orange trees which are growing in absolutely every place. Who cares that they were extremely acid – end of poverty and hallucination because of hunger 😀 Every tree was bended from amount of oranges, so as a perfect volunteer I relieve them from that fruit’s weight.

And than forward! First to control gates on highway, where my stomach problems came back, and after in small van with 3 old hippy girls we went to Tilcara. Tourist place, but I don’t know why people are coming here. The same like with things to see there is problem to camp, so I stay on wall near parking lot for trucks (One turn more on left and I could be 5 meters above 😀 ). Next day I was so irritated that nobody want to stop for me that I started to walked to next village. Than suddenly I heard sounds of brake and old Reanult stopped next to me. Pavlo from inside told me “God morning Mister”, but in… polish! How it can be?

Pavlo is from Argentina, but his grandmother was from Poznań. Grandparents of Wanda, wife of Pavlo, were from Ukraine and Cracow. Pavlo took me only 4 km to crossroad where he wanted to turn and go home. So we made high five, and I went forward. After two kilometers I heard the same brake and old Reanult once again stopped next to me. Pavlo came back for me because he had fear that we can never meet again. And in that way I bottle myself for two days in his small home in village in the middle of Andes. Pavlo worked as professor of philosophy that’s why we talked a looooot about… everything 🙂 Sheep cut grass, we made coffee, and autumn sun heat huge wall of our small but really nice home. Magic place! Magic time! Best way how can I say good bye to my lovely Argentina. Now it’s time for new country. Bolivia here I come!

Pavlo in his hoe had… real sour cabbage! On receipe from Cracow 🙂 And even have inside raisins <3 Like in home!