Yanquis in Latin America: Salta pt. 2

I am looking back now, at the end of two weeks of travel and recounting the events that transpired...

Day Ten: BT, Chris, and I had to check out of the hostel the morning after the asado to free up our beds, even though we wouldn't be leaving until that night. Such is the usual drill, with us getting up around ten, paying, and then storing our bags for the afternoon. That morning Ryan, having gone out on the town with some of the others from the hostel, came wandering in around seven o'clock. As we were packing up a few hours later, he woke (sort of) and began to babble craziness in mixed Spanish and English, also faking a Southern accent half of the time.
"No te mueves! Don't you move! I'm gonna pay the bills." And so on. We had a good laugh as he kept telling us he was going to sleep, but then continued to rant. Later that day I found him in the kitchen with one of the Fins (a culinary student) who was in our room. The Fin had heard all of his shenanigans and was recounting it to Ryan, who had absolutely no recollection of the event.

We ate the free breakfast at the hostel of bread and jam, coffee and tea, and then headed out to explore some more. We found a small restaurant offering locro, a traditional and hearty corn-based stew that is perfect for cold weather, which we fueled up on before heading towards the giant hill that looms over the city. The main attraction in Salta is the cerro San Bernard and the cable cars that carry you up to the summit. Thus we made it our mission that day to ride up and take many, many photos. Waiting in line we were met by the Swede from the hostel, who joined our sightseeing party for the afternoon. She had the most incredible clear, blue eyes. Eyes that looked like glacier water and that were exactly the same color as the Argentinian flag. Because of this, she was more then once stopped by strangers to have her picture taken with them (ojos claros in South America are a big deal in general.)

We met up with Ryan again after the trip up the hill and the four of us went to eat Argentina's version of empanadas in a cafe off the plaza. Chile apparently got the idea of empanadas from Argentina in the first place, though it isn't hard to figure out how to roll stuff in dough pockets and bake or fry them. I met a Brit one time in San Pedro who claimed that the concept came originally to South America from Wales.

That night, we parted ways with Ryan with plans to meet up again in Mendoza a few days later. Though, in reality, he remained the entire time of the break in Salta. BT, Chris, and I cabbed it to the tiny Salta "international" airport where our flight was delayed almost two hours. When we finally got to leave, the plane itself was half empty and we three each had ample room to stretch out and enjoy the snack boxes provided by the airline. We landed less then two hours later in the light misty drizzle that covered Buenos Aires.