Cordóba, May 18-19

May 18

I got to Cordóba by coincidence.  I didn’t want to return to Buenos Aires from Montevideo, I didn’t want to fly (not because I’m scared – I love the planes and I love flying, but I hate the procedure required to get on the plane).  Cordóba was the only place where a direct bus went from Montevideo and where the trip lasted exactly one night.  I looked up in the guidebook and on the Thorn Tree; it looked interesting.  Thus I bought the ticket on EGA bus.  It was a “cama ejecutivo” ticket, which meant only 3 seats in a row, and mine was the one without a neighbor.  We were only 6 in the entire compartment, like a couchette in a European train.  Just we were all on the same level.  The seats reclined to about 75 degrees, only 15 degrees away from fully horizontal, and there was a footrest, too.  We got a blanket and a pillow as well.  The bus started to board on time and left on time.  As soon as we left the lights of Montevideo, the conductor (? is this the word? or should it be “bus attendant”? offered drinks.  I opted for a martini.  I got it.  Dinner that followed didn’t seemed too trustworthy (ham and cheese sandwiches and a lasagna of undefined content and consistency), thus I passed on it.  I stuck up on empanadas in Uruguay; I knew I would survive.  The conductor collected the passports, just like in the sleeping car, thus I assumed that we would sleep over the border undisturbed.  It was not what happened.  We reached the border around 10 pm, and had to get off and wait outside for about an hour.  We didn’t have to see the border guards, that part was done by the conductor.  It was a beautiful night with full moon, I didn’t mind being outside.  This was the friendliest crowd; they took great interest in me. 

After the border the lights were turned off, and we could sleep undisturbed until Rosario, where all my fellow travelers left the bus and I remained alone.  For a while the driver (or the conductor) slept in there.  The sleeping compartment was separated by a door from the rest of the bus; neither smells nor noises entered.

We arrived to Cordóba on time, at 8 am.  I felt rested, but extremely dirty.  It was hot on the bus, and I felt perspired and sticky.  My hotel, named Alex, was close to the terminal.  “You can’t take a taxi,” said the information girl at the bus station, it’s too close.”  Actually, it was almost across the street.  I crossed the walked in the indicated direction.  The sidewalk ended in a screen door, and that was the entrance of the hotel.  For a moment I believed I reserved a cave below the highway.  But the screen door led to a very nice small hotel, my best accommodation so far.  Of course, it was well before the official check-in time, but the receptionist made me wait for only 10 minutes.  Then I got my magnetic key, and could enter the room.   It was a small room, but it had everything.  I could hang up my clothes; there was a desk for the computer, a real bathroom with soap, shampoo and hairdryer.  I immediately took a shower and washed my hair, then took everything I wore on the bus to the cleaner.  Cordóba was the town where the Jesuits founded the first university of Argentina.  In Europe they have a bad reputation, but here they seem to have done good.  They had several estates around Cordóba, where they grew grapes to support the educational activities.  Their original building is still part of the university, it can only be seen by guided tour, and only in the afternoon.  As I stand there, trying to decide what to do, several faculty members stop and offer help.  I was just embarrassed, did I look that helpless?  But they were probably just nice.  I wish I had been more proactive; maybe I could’ve visited the working part of the university. 

Thus I started to walk towards the downtown bus station.  I will visit that estate where the first bus goes from there, I decide.  As I walk, I see a bus at the red light, with “Jesus Maria” – one of the estates – on its header.  I knock the window; the driver scrolls it down.  Yes, he goes to Jesus Maria, and opens the door for me.  He goes to the village though, not to the Estate, but points out where to walk.  The sun shines, finally it’s warm, and I’m out in the countryside…  From this estate it’s a 2 km walk to the next that acted like a resort for the students.  Too bad photography is forbidden inside. 

On the dark side, I don’t find anything to eat and the two apples I bought in Cordóba don’t go far.  By the time I get back to town, I’m starved.  I want food, not a sandwich.  But by Spanish standards (7 pm), it’s too early for dinner.  Restaurants don’t have their kitchen open yet. Finally I find a store that sells gourmet pasta pre-cooked and frozen, the girl takes pity on my starved state and cooks cannelloni for me in the store’s microwave.  I take it to the hotel; it’s delicious.  Maybe anything would be. 

May 19

It was a less exiting day than the previous.  I have to finish jobs, and a nagging client can’t stop asking questions.  Portable jobs have their distinct disadvantages.  I can barely finish by checkout time.  My main goal for the day to see the Manzana Jesuitica, a Unesco Heritage Site.  It can be seen only as a guided tour, and seeing the library full of old codices, I can understand it.  It was a joy to see that old library.  The cathedral of the complex (Iglesia de la Compania) has a vaulted ceiling that was built like a ship’s hull upside down.

After lunch I was sitting in park, eating an orange, when an old guy walks up to me and asks whether I’m also traveling the world.  As it turns out he is a retired professor from the university of Calgary, and travels with three friends from college.  He suspected from my outfit that I’m doing the same.  They stayed in a hostel and cooked for themselves, and in retrospect that was a right decision.  They went in totally different directions thus we departed, but I envied him for the friends who are willing to travel.

After visiting the Buen Pastor Park and the neo-gothic Iglesia de los Capuchinos, I went to the Museo Municipal de Bellas Artes that I could visit for free as a retired one and where the building was more amazing than the paintings, although there were quite a few that I liked.

Thereafter I picked up my bags at the hotel and was off to Salta on the night bus.