An Excursion into the Interior

The day after all of the world cup fun was spent running around trying to buy a camera. Going around shopping for a camera really made me angry. I did not want to be doing that, but here I was wandering through a store looking at little point-and-shoots. I eventually settled on one- the price was outrageous, as it is for all cameras here (poop lady made bank the other day) with an obscene markup for a model a couple years old. Whatever. I have a camera.

Later on I made my way to the bus station to get on the bus to Cordoba. I found my bus parking spot number in the middle of probably about 70 berths. No joke. Every bus that pulls in is a fancy double-decker outfitted with seats of different levels of comfort. For this leg of the trip to Salta I was on the bottom rung, or semi-cama. Basically a United Business Class seat, without the warm cashews and glass of whatever as you board. I made the mistake of passing out as soon as I got on board, without fully getting settled- I paid for that later. I did wake back up and essentially became one with my backpack before trying to sleep again. I tried for about 3 hours before I finally caught some z's. We pulled into Cordoba at 6am, about 30 minutes ahead of schedule. This was probably the one time I wished we were running late, but oh no. It was still pitch black out and about as cold as it can be as I wandered up to the hostel. As I got there I looked through the window I saw the guy manning the front desk passed out on the couch so I figured I would retreat back to a cafe and wait for a more of a reasonable hour before showing up.

It didn't get light out until 7:30am - I started to wonder if it ever would - as I sat having my café con leche and mystery pastries (I asked for three croissants and got 2 round biscuit things. I promise, I can speak spanish). Finally I rolled in and Ferdinando gave me the dime tour before I went to bed and finished off a full night's sleep.

After a delicious lunch of a massive steak sandwich for about 6 dollars, I started seein' the sights. First on the list was a viewpoint that Ferdinando recommended to get a decent view of the city. He warned it wasn't that great, but I checked it out anyway. It wound up being a great view of 6 tall apartment blocks with something of the city in between. Postcard stuff, you know what I mean? A few minutes later found me walking into the main town square, and it's a great spot. It's what you would think of when you think town square of a medium-sized town: statue of a famous military figure in the middle (San Martín), benches, grass, old buildings, people, and lots of pigeons. It might be the safest spot in town though, because the plaza was bordered by a Church, el Cabildo, a tourist office and about 10 banks. I have yet to see any banks anywhere else. Walking into the cathedral gave me a few flashbacks, but I didn't turn around to find soap on my leg and instead wandered through a beautiful cathedral. Next door is El Cabildo. While Argentina was under the control of military dictatorships, it was a detention/torture facility. Now it's a community cultural center. Go figure. It was architecturally pretty fascinating, though. There was no trace of any of its recent darker history anywhere, in case you were wondering.

After walking around town a little longer, I headed back to the hostel to pick up my laundry from the lavandería (you can't do it yourself in Argentina, but I don't mind. For 4$ they wash, dry and fold it for you. Not bad!) and chill out until the barbecue, or asado, that the hostel was putting on. There were several others at the hostel, and by the time dinner rolled around I had talked to some recent UCLA grads, an LA teacher, a surfer from Lima, a guy traveling on his own from Ireland, two recent West Point grads traveling before their posting in Germany, an Aussie volunteer, and some med students from England. Now that I think of it, it was quite a mix. The UCLA fellas are headed up to Salta later this week, so I'll probably see them again. Unfortunately they're both Lakers fans, but we all agreed that Miami's recent jaunt into the Free Agent market was just ridiculous. The barbecue, despite not getting rolling until the local dinner of time of 9:30, was unbelievable. It was like a Brazilian restaurant right here in the common room of the hostel. Salad for starters (first real salad since I've been here, I gave a silent Tiger fist-pump) followed by meat. And more meat. I tried some of the mythical Fernet, which is the Argentinian beverage of choice. It's some sort of herbal alcoholic concoction that is alright - it'll have to grow on me. You're supposed to mix it with coca-cola (surprise? They drink coke like it's water). As the night wore on, and the drinks were flowing, the Brazilians at the table got into a debate with the Argentinians over the best and worst club soccer teams in their respective countries. It swiftly devolved into a debate between Pele and Maradona, and I just had to laugh. It had to come to that at some point.

Frommer (yes, I had to reload on a guidebook too) said that Cordoba is not worth visiting, but I think today has been pretty solid. So give me your plate of bbq beef, Frommer. I'll eat it.