WEIGHT: 63 kg
Sex services: Fetish, Massage, Massage, Sex oral without condom, Role Play & Fantasy
Assuming everything goes to plan — and that's a big assumption in these parts — tomorrow El Tren a las Nubes, the Train to the Clouds, will once again begin its clamber from the lovely colonial city of Salta into the mountains that divide northern Argentina from Chile. The train's operators are taking things easy to start with: just one round trip a week until the end of June, at which point it's due to become more frequent.
The tentative nature of the timetable is only to be expected: guidebooks cite the Train to the Clouds as one of the finest adventures available in the region, but even the most recent editions carry a footnote warning that the train has been out of action for several years and that it might be back on track in South American scheduling can be pretty relaxed. In fact, the train did return late last year — albeit only for a couple of months — and I seized my chance to make the journey across the Andes from Argentina.
The day I boarded was only its second outing since , and there were clearly still a few teething problems to be ironed out. The lighting failed on the journey back, which made for some interesting trips to the loo. However, the refurbished carriages were smartly decked out, with multi-lingual guides presiding over each one, cleaners scurrying about throughout the day, plenty of legroom and breakfast and lunch provided.
But before this great train ride, I embarked on a splendid road trip. The adventure began in Poncho Huasi, a posada bed and breakfast set in a colonial house in the village of Cerrillos on the outskirts of Salta. It's run by Nick Evans, a rangy Englishman, along with his tiny Argentine wife, Alicia; it turned out to be the perfect base from which to explore the region. Alicia has lived in the area all her life her ancestors were among the gaucho leaders who helped oust the Spanish conquistadores in the 19th century , and the couple's enthusiasm for the area, combined with the local knowledge of generations, make them ideal guides.
If they aren't free themselves to head off into the mountains or across the puna grassland , they have a network of local contacts who are equally knowledgeable. It's a philosophy that strikes a neat balance between the straitjacket of a fixed itinerary and the vagaries of do-it-yourself backpacking, all on a very reasonable budget. My plans had included a few tastings in the wine-producing region of Cafayate, where the vineyards are the highest in the world, but I spent more time in Salta itself than planned: it is quite rightly known as la Linda, the beautiful.