Places That I’d Like To Visit #13

San Salvador de Jujuy, Argentina

Somewhere a bit warmer today, I think.

San Salvador de Jujuy is a city in north-western Argentina, and the capital of the Jujuy Province, which itself is at the borders of Chile and Bolivia. My wife has been to Salta, which is not too far away.

Located on the Andes, 1238 meters above sea level, Jujuy is humid during Summer and dry and cold during Winter. It seems to be a city with a colonial feel, but also a gateway to the colourful Andean culture. Jujuy the city, and the province in general, appears to be much more inclusive of indigenous people and culture than the in rest of Argentina, which is reflected in the predominant Quechua, Aymara and Chiriguano people and cultures.

So I’m thinking that it would be a good place to visit. Jen tells me that the people in the region are incredibly friendly, she has the local lingo down pat, and although we’ll be gringos, we’ll be gringos with a local accent. I can just picture Henry and I in colourful ponchos, patting the llamas (or alpacas), chomping on empanadas, and topping it off with casa bindo.

Comments

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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