Purmamarca, Argentina

From the moment the bus pulled into the village of Purmamarca, I knew I was going to like it despite the immediately obvious tourist presence. It is located in the stunning Quebrada de Humahuaca, a region in the Argentine northwest that is known for its colorful mountains. A pastel version of each of the primary colors is represented in the beautiful Cerro de Siete Colores (Hill of the Seven Colors), which towers over the village of Purmamarca. The narrow streets are lined with shops displaying local crafts, and the pleasant, shady local plaza is full of vendors and young hippie kids playing music and juggling. Especially in Argentina, there is a large culture of young travelers, many of whom finance their adventures by selling jewelery or playing music.I stayed in a dorm room at the Hosteria Bebo Vilte, which is a perfectly acceptable place (criteria: hot shower, beds not too concave, warm enough that I don´t see my breath in bed at night) except for the fact that the owners genuinely seem to hate their guests and you have to slink around hiding from them so as not to be snapped at for simply being there. Bizarre.

Also staying in the dorm was a really cool Argentine named Matias, who lives in Buenos Aires but is on a life-changing spiritual quest to Machupicchu and back. He and I clicked almost instantly; he´s one of those people that I felt as if I had known forever after the first fifteen minutes. After night fell, we made a precarious climb up a nearly sheer mountainside made of crumbling rocks and cacti (not the easiest climb to say the least) so that he could take photographs of the village from above. With the long exposures of nighttime photography, he quickly ran out of battery power in his camera. In one of those beautiful moments of synchronicity, we discovered that my camera takes the same kind of rare battery, and he was able to continue with the project. He took some stunning photos which I will post when he sends them to me, including one of the best photos that´s ever been taken with me in it--a long exposure of the two of us dimly lit by the distant city lights, with the mountains rising up in the background and the sky punctuated by brilliant stars.

The next day I awoke to an incredible sandstorm. The wind was so strong that at times I couldn´t see more than a few feet in front of me on the street, and the power went out in the entire village. I wandered off the dusty streets and into the home of a local artisan named Gonzalo Rafael Alvarez, who specializes in carving wood slabs into stamps and then making prints with them. He lives in his house with his daughter and partner, surrounded by his artwork and his broad collection of books. We had a fascinating conversation in which he pulled down a number of the books from their shelves to illustrate different points--everything from the iconography of traditional Argentinian graphic art to the art collection of the Museo del Prado in Spain. Perhaps the wind howling outside contributed heavily to the otherworldy atmosphere, but it was one of those pivotal conversations in life that has the power to forever alter one´s perception--in this case, my perception of art itself. Not only did I end up buying several prints, but I also purchased several of the original stamps he had carved. It would not surprise me to see his work in a museum someday and, aside from my ATM card, these carvings are now my most closely guarded possessions.

Around sunset the heaviest of the winds had abated, and Matias and I got a bottle of Argentine red wine and climbed up to a vista point at the edge of town to watch the sunset and see what the night sky would be like with no lights coming from the village. There is only one other time in my life that I have seen a sky more bliss-inducing than the one over Purmamarca last night, and that was when I stayed in a mud hut on the cliffs over the Indian Ocean in South Africa. There is something about the sky above the Southern Hemisphere that is absolutely magical to me. I think that maybe because I only recognize two of the constellations (as opposed to the Northern Hemisphere, where most of them are at least familiar), my brain is blown wide open by the sheer immensity of it all. After lying on our backs staring upwards for a good long time, we walked down to enjoy a delicious dinner in the plaza.

Despite its many charms, one thing that Purmamarca lacks is an outdoor patio where you can enjoy a coffee or a glass of wine al fresco. Another thing it lacks is an ice cream store. And there´s not one bookstore in town, either. If I ever have to flee the States, I am heading straight to Purmamarca to open a sidewalk cafe that makes its own ice cream and sells books.