Sometimes you have deja vu.
Sometimes traditional landscapes, already encountered in other parts of the world.
Sometimes taking pictures already taken elsewhere.
Sometimes you meet fellow hostel who become traveling companions.
In the far north of Argentina, where the plains gives way to rugged mountains and harsh: the Andes.
Sometimes with the whole repertory of stereotypes that we know each other, but sometimes with more or less pleasant surprises.
What's even more fascinating is certainly the landscape.
Sometimes pueblos villages reminiscent of the Sicilian campaign (before the speculation, of course).
Sometimes the color of the earth and houses.
Sometimes the animals that graze more or less free.
Sometimes the fields burned by the sun and wind.
Sometimes rivers thirsty for water.
Sometimes for solitary monuments.
Oh God, I never met a Sicilian cerro de las 7 colores , as Purmamarca.
Peró certainly places like Tilcara, Pucara as the ruins of the ancient Inca village.
The Garganta del Diablo, a beautiful gorge excavated over the centuries by wind and water.
Sometimes you do not meet the sea salt, but on a plateau surrounded by high mountains and crowned by a sky as blue as can be.
Sometimes it feels like a god, nothing can stop you.
Sometimes you have to go very high before they fall.
Sometimes you reach the karma and it sucks all the energy of a superb, powerful, almost trying to stop time, which unfortunately runs straight face.
Sometimes you take the way back.
Return which begins tomorrow.
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