Whack! It all comes back

I arrived in San Salvador de Jujuy early in the morning. It felt like the world had turned backwards. Everything seemed entirely different – the bus station was a chaotic mess with ramshackle stalls selling tat and grubby eating joints, vendors carrying baskets of snacks and yelling out their wares. Gone, in a snap, was the cool order of Argentina; this was South America. The coffee was instant, the snacks were tamales (cornmeal dumplings), the tourist office was manned by two blowsy women who flicked idly through gossipy magazines and barely raised an eyebrow to help. The streets were packed with an overspilling market and blaring radios competed with each other. On the pavement at a busy junction a man, surrounded by punters had laid out vivid pictures of a hideous disease and was peddling some kind of potion that cured it. It was desperately hot and humid.