Salta: From "Good Air" to good energy

So it seems I have successfully transplanted myself from the city named for its "Good Air" (Buenos Aires) to a city underappreciated for its good energy. Salta, the next stop on my route towards Bolivia, unexpectedly hit me in the face with a rush of good vibes when I arrived Friday morning con mochila enorme.

The city itself is quite small and really there isn`t much to do once you`ve seen the few landmarks, as I expected, but for some reason - and maybe it was because I knew I was heading to an exciting, new and (possibly most importantly) CHEAP country soon, and that I was out of Buenos Aires for good - I just loved this city as soon as I got here.

It was noticeably more north of Argentina. The people were becoming darker once again, just like in Iguazu, and I found myself checking each one out once again, just like Iguazu. So I had high hopes for the clubs later that night.

The hostel I chose was obviously one of the cheapest on offer online and the reviews were far and between, so I was taking a stab in the dark with my choice. Turned out to be a super fun place to be, and even in low season as we are, we managed to turn Friday and Saturday night into a party before we headed out at the ridiculously late hours I have become accustomed to partying in in South America.

I befriended the receptionist L, a gay Argentinian who doesn`t speak a lick of English but loves a good party and a good photo shoot, and he probably single-handedly helped me enjoy Salta about 10x more on the budget I am on.

At first, I was annoyed that the beautiful man I hooked up with during my stay in Iguazu was not making my effort to meet me (despite being excited about me coming for weeks, apparently), BUT L again saved the day but filling my then-vacant 6-bed dorm with just one occupant - a hot guy from Buenos Aires - and refusing everyone else). Muchas gracias, my little gay friend.

So needless to say, on the first night, a Friday, I corked my supermarket-bought vino and got stuck into some fine smoke before heading out, then after a bit of a boogie, arrived back at the hostel to wake my little friend to continue the party sans disco lights. Ba ba ba baaaam. He hadn`t come out because he got too wasted before, and it was a good thing because he was tooooo wasted and I would not have wanted to deal with it in public.

Instead, I used the opportunity to try and stalk out all the hot guys I had seen in the street - who had largely been quite positively responsive to my walking past. Well, it seems these guys don`t go to the club I went to, and so I was therefore stuck with straining to see whether those that surrounded me were in fact of legal age. Or in the least bit attractive.

I found 2 good-looking guys. The first, an almost-too-good-a-dancer-to-be-straight guy, was in my good books until he started sweating impulsively. Eww, no thank you, I am not a towel. The next guy turned out to be Israeli, not Argentinian (first bummer) and then after quite some time flexing my best flirting muscles, he tells me he has a gf. I literally almost blistered my heels turning away from him.

My disappointment in the local talent was shortlived, however, soon replaced by disappointment with the talent of the country`s capital... or maybe I am just being too picky. But what´s the deal with guys lacking downstairs here??? Urgh. He was so pretty...