The Train to the Clouds costs about $200 per person, serves champagne, and takes all day. Mark and I wanted the mountain views, but without the hefty price-tag and all day ride. So, we splurged for a rental car and did it ourselves. We knew it'd be a great day when we caught this morning view:
And saw this sign:
What I especially enjoyed about the drive was that I could get a bathroom break whenever I wanted it. There were some fantastic views:
Over one of the taller passes, it snowed. It was so windy and chilly, we began to wonder how on earth we were going to survive our next countries (Bolivia and Peru).
When we reached San Antonio, we warmed up with tea at a little hole in the wall restaurant called La Aguila (The Eagle). Mark was excited to try the coca tea, "for its warming properties." I thought it smelled like body odor, but he seemed to enjoy it.
I loved our meal. The ordering sounded like this (but in Spanish):
"Could we please have a menu."
"Sure (without getting a menu), what would you like?"
"Well... what do you recommend?"
"Soup."
"Sounds great! We'll take two please." The cous cous, pumpkin/squash soup was unbelievably good, but we thought we should add more vitamins.
"Something more?"
"Do you have any salad?"
"Yes!" (Runs back with a beautiful green salad loaded full of shredded beets, shredded carrots, sliced tomatoes, hard boiled egg, oil and vinegar)
"Want a platter of meat?"
"Sure, how about some chicken?" (Runs back out with a piping hot chicken)
It was just awesome. One of our most enjoyable meals, and for only $24- in a national park!
I loved the town of San Antonio. People were just doing life... stuff like, you know, walking alpacas down the street. I desperately wanted to take a photo, but couldn't bring myself to doing it. It felt like too much of a violation of privacy, and it felt weird to stick my tourist head out the window and ask, "Hey, could you stand there while I take your photo? I'm just in love with you." Though I did manage to put my moral compass on pause for a moment while I snapped a photo of a local who was all bundled up... I figured he/she couldn't see me, and the whole world doesn't know who he/she is... I know, now I'm justifying my bad behavior.
There weren't really any towns along the way, to San Antonio, but we did see pueblos that looked old and abandoned, but they weren't. We'd catch glimpses of meals being made, laundry being done, and fences being mended. My personal favorite sighting was a friendly herd of goats. When we stopped to take their picture, they started running for the car. I love hearing their little "Baahh's" and jingling bells.
After five or six hours of four wheel driving (fording rivers, climbing hills, tight gravel corners) in our rental car (manual transmission VW Gol), we arrived at the bridge where Mark wanted a photo of the train. Usually, I'm pretty content to just experience the thing, but Mark needed photos from above and below the tracks, so I volunteered to climb the mountain. I hiked with a lovely woman from a nearby mountain. We were both out of breath from the elevation, but we managed to have a conversation as we stopped to catch our breath along the steep switchbacks. She was bringing knit hats, scarves, sweaters, vests, and mittens to sell to tourists on the train.
I counted 58 local people who hiked the mountain to sell souvineers to the tourists on the train. The train only comes by twice a week, on Tuesday and Saturday, so you could imagine that it's a big deal to sell during that stop, but as I snapped pictures of the train, I wasn't hounded to buy anything. The venders were quiet, polite, and respectful. The only one who asked me if I wanted anything was a young empanada vender, and even he was really kind.
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