A challenge for my tiny Argentina budget
During my four months in South America, I spent almost half of my time in Argentina. A gigantic, fascinating country, but… an expensive one. After Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, where my daily budget of 20 euros was more than enough to cover activities, food, and little pleasures, Argentina completely shook up my habits. With prices close to those in Europe, I had to think of new ways to travel without sacrificing the experience.
First, I cut down on activities. Then I started spacing out excursions. But I quickly realized that this was not the answer. I wanted to live every day fully. So I decided to tackle the biggest expense of all: transport. In Argentina, distances are enormous, and the buses, although comfortable, were far too expensive for my tiny budget. That is how I dared to try hitchhiking for the very first time in my life.
First experience: a mix of fear and surprise
One morning, at 8 a.m., I positioned myself at the edge of the town of Chilecito, on the legendary Route 40, my heart pounding wildly. My goal? To reach Patquia, then continue towards Villa Unión to visit Talampaya National Park.
The nerves were definitely there. It was my first time hitchhiking, and of course, all those terrifying stories you hear about it were spinning around in my head. I was a woman travelling alone, my mother had always showered me with warnings, and I was not exactly feeling relaxed. But I went for it.
Barely 15 minutes later, an Argentinian couple pulled over. As soon as I got into their car, they started asking a thousand questions: Why are you hitchhiking? Who are you? Where are you from? Their kindness immediately reassured me. Until I realized… we were not going in the right direction.
After about fifteen minutes driving along small tracks through the woods, I started to feel slightly worried, even though I am one of those people who prefers to wait until something truly terrible happens before actually being afraid. Eventually, we came to a stop… at their house. They had simply decided to invite me in for breakfast before taking me where I needed to go!
Sitting around their table, in front of hot coffee and biscuits, I realized that my very limited Spanish had probably made me miss that part of the conversation. Nicolas, the husband, later dropped me off at the edge of town, my arms full of croissants. That first memory, both frightening and touching, will stay with me forever.
The Valley of the Moon: a magical interlude
At the edge of town, a policeman found me another car: an adorable retired couple travelling across Argentina on a road trip. Very quickly, they offered to take me with them to visit the Valley of the Moon, a spectacular site I had been dreaming of seeing. Known as Ischigualasto in the Quechua language, this place is a desert region unlike anywhere else in the world, where strange rock formations and lunar landscapes stretch as far as the eye can see.
For an hour, we explored this breathtaking site together, surrounded by geological formations sculpted by wind and time. The silent desert seemed to belong to another planet, and the couple’s company made the experience even more special. After the visit, they insisted on buying me lunch in a local restaurant.
With so much kindness — between breakfast, the visit, and lunch — I quickly realized that I would not be able to reach my next destination in a single day. But never mind. That is adventure!
A night under the stars of the Argentinian desert
In the afternoon, they dropped me off quite literally in the middle of the desert. And when I say “in the middle of nowhere,” I really mean in the middle of nowhere: not a house, not a tree on the horizon. As night began to fall, I realized that no one was going to stop at such a late hour.
So I spent part of the night alone in the desert, with my backpack as my only companion. I was not feeling very brave at that moment. Luckily, I had my sleeping bag to protect me from the icy night air, but I have to admit… I am afraid of the dark. Every crackle, every noise made me jump. Between insects, wind, and a heavy silence, the experience was unsettling, but unforgettable.
Early the next morning, as the sun began to chase away the biting cold of the night, a group of three motorcyclists appeared in the distance. They seemed just as surprised to find a lone tourist sitting on her backpack in the middle of nowhere as I was to see them emerge from the desert horizon. After exchanging a few words and explaining my adventure, they decided to take me with them.
The first rider offered me a seat behind him, while the second took my small backpack and the third took my big travel bag. Obviously, there was no helmet for me. That worried me slightly, because riding without a helmet is illegal in Argentina. But in the middle of the desert, the rule seemed a little less strict, and the police were probably more forgiving.
We rode for an hour on their huge Harley-style motorbikes, my hair flying in the wind. The contrast between the fear of the previous night and that feeling of total freedom was striking. Crossing those arid landscapes, bathed in the golden light of morning, made me forget everything else. It was exhilarating, magical, and honestly, one of the coolest moments of my adventure in Argentina.
When we arrived at a police checkpoint, the motorcyclists explained my situation. The police officers, who were extremely understanding, told me they could not let me continue by motorbike without a helmet all the way to the next big city, for my own safety. Instead, they helped me find another solution: a truck drivers’ feria. It was a place set up in the middle of nowhere where truck drivers could stop, eat, and take a break. It reminded me a little of some sort of makeshift seaside resort, with restaurants and bars lined up side by side. All of it under plastic tents.
The final stretch: San Juan
I held up my cardboard sign with “San Juan” written on it. Very quickly, a truck driver transporting minerals stopped. He explained that truckers are not allowed to pick up hitchhikers, then laughed: “Do you really think someone is going to steal my cargo of rocks?”
The journey was lively. He asked me thousands of questions about my trip and about France, and he even made a detour to drop me right in the city centre.
A two-day journey full of emotions
402 kilometres, one night in the desert, incredible landscapes, and above all, extraordinary encounters: this experience proved to me that adventure is not found in the destination, but in the road that takes you there. Hitchhiking taught me to let go, to open myself up to the unexpected, and to connect with people.
And what comes next? I will keep exploring Argentina, thumb raised and mind open to whatever each new day may bring. 🌍
