Back to School in Cordoba

Food - an Argentinean Obsession

When we left Buenos Aires, we boarded a double decker bus headed to Cordoba, towards the west of the country. We were expecting a ten hour bus ride and purposefully chose a day bus versus a night bus so that we could see the countryside. Well, imagine a ten hour bus ride through Texas. Or Kansas. Or Oklahoma. Same Same. It was flat, dry, with straight roads, some horses and cows. For over ten hours. We were fairly exhausted when we arrived, but were excited to be in a smaller city, even though Cordoba is the second largest city in Argentina, with a population of around 1.5 million.

We made a reservation at Le Grand Hostel, not too far from the train station, and in the neighborhood of Nueva Cordoba. I read that there were restaurants and nightlife in Nueva Cordoba, whereas in the center of the city, where more of the historic sites are, everything closes pretty early. Le Grand Hostel was listed number one on Tripadvisor and has a reputation as a hip, more artsy hostel. That it certainly was. Our room was simple with a nice, modern bathroom. One the wall, though, was a giant mural of an angry lumberjack, staring right at our bed. I was prepared for nightmares. There was a large patio in the center of the hostel, and we thought we were lucky that our room was in the rear of the hostel, hopefully more quiet that the others. We hoped.

Cordoba is a university town, with students coming in from all over Argentina, Latin America, and the world. This fact was confirmed when we walked up the road a few blocks and were greeted on side by a beautiful cathedral, rivaling many in smaller European cities. On the other side was a more modern looking building that housed a few contemporary restaurants and art space. There were young students as far as the eye could see, on every bench and bit of concrete, surrounding the building on several sides. A few more blocks into our walk was another similar scene, although in front of an older building, with young people all over. The architecture in the city also reminded us of Europe, but better maintained in comparison to Buenos Aires.

There were sidewalk cafés and bars on every block and loads of ice cream shops. If the US has baseball and apple pie, the Argentineans have ice cream. It is a national pastime to have ice cream every day, at least once. For about $1 I was able to buy a large waffle cone with two large scoops of creamy ice cream. I became somewhat addicted, adding a large cone of dolce de leche to my daily food intake. Between beef, pasta, pizza, wine, and now an ice cream addiction, I felt my waistline grow every day we remained in Argentina. I could just hear myself getting fatter.

Food seems to be an obsession in Argentina. Although breakfast is not generally big, most people seem to stop at a café in the morning for a typical breakfast of café con leche and 2 medialunas - small, sweet pastries, similar to a croissant, but with more density. Lunch is usually the largest meal of the day. Between 4 and 6 pm an afternoon snack is always had, to tie you over until the late night dinner. The snack could be either pizza, ice cream, a few empanadas, or another round of café con leche with medialunas. Then, dinner is eaten late, like in Buenos Aires. That is a full four meals a day.

Being the creatures of habit that we are, we found a few places that became our hangouts. On our first full day, it was both a Sunday and Mothers’ Day, and the city was closed and empty. We wandered around to get the lay of the land, and ended up at a café with outdoor seating across from a typical pink iglesia. It reminded me of a typical scene from the show “Alias” and I imagined Sydney Bristow skulking around inside to foil some plan of the bad guys. The sky was bright blue, the sun was warm, and there was a slight breeze blowing through. We enjoyed our coffee and sat soaking in the warm sun after the many cold days we spent in BA. This was when we realized this was what we hoped for out of the MP. Warm weather, soaking in the sun without sweating, a good cup of coffee and relaxing with a book. We returned numerous times.

During our first night, we hit a “restobar” close to our hotel with an outdoor patio overlooking the action of the center of Nueva Cordoba. Eric had a tasty thin flank steak with Roquefort cheese served by an incredibly friendly server. We returned several times and found that they had a great option for the late afternoon/early evening snack called a tabla. It is pretty popular in the area and on many restaurants’ menus. It is a selection of meats, cheeses, olives, breads, etc. served on a large wood cutting board. One of the things I missed in Asia was dairy, and in particular, cheese. I quickly became addicted to cheese once again in Cordoba. We added a bottle of local wine and the wonderful outdoor view on a great, warm evening. While we overlooked the cathedral we could have been in Spain or Italy, but for the price difference. Our bottle of wine was about $6 and our tabla about $7. Certainly not the same prices as in Spain or Italy. One night at the restobar I ordered a salad. I was not that hungry and was craving vegetables. Like Ireland, Argentina is very meat and potatoes focused. It was a Mediterranean salad with some cheese and olives, but no special dressing. All salad is served just with vinegar and oil, and not even pepper. Argentineans don’t like spicy food and shy away even from black pepper, and vegetables it seems. The salad was nothing to write home about. I am just convinced they stick to what they know - meat and potatoes. Vegetables are just not their thing.

We also found a joint around the corner from our hostel on the main road, Av Illia. I had an amazing Milanesa sandwich there, with great, fresh, toasted bread, lettuce, tomato, and a fried egg. The first time we went Eric ordered the same as me, but without the tomato and egg. In BA, the sandwich came with a hardboiled egg and Eric was expecting the same in Cordoba. Eric was sorely disappointed when he received his sandwich without an egg and saw me with my tasty fried egg. But, being the good, loving wife that I am, I offered him half of mine with the egg. We became regulars at this place to the point that during our last visit, when I ordered us each a hamburger, the server remembered that Eric did not like tomato. I love almost becoming a local, even in such a short time.

We also tried panchos in Cordoba, which are hot dogs. The hot dog stands usually have about 30 different kinds of sauces to put on top. My favorite became spicy picante sauce with four cheese sauce. It was certainly no Chicago hot dog, but it served as an easy lunch, a snack, and at least once breakfast.
One night we hit a “fancy” restaurant, with table cloths and everything. It was near Ave Belgrano which hosts a large artisans’ fair each weekend. We visited the art fair on Sunday and found some silver rings we liked for only $2.50. The restaurant was busy the night of the fair, but was quiet when we went. It was recommended in Lonely Planet and we sat down without looking at the menu. Although a little more expensive than our usual hangouts, we stayed. I ordered sorrentinos (large ravioli) and Eric ordered bife de chorizo, a large piece of steak that looked like a thick filet mignon served at some of the finest steakhouses in the US. It was seasoned to perfection, most likely with just a little salt and pepper. It was cooked to perfection as well. And, it tasted, well perfect. It rivaled some of the steaks we have had in the US at places like Morton’s or Smith & Wollensky. The best part - it was the equivalent of $12. No way are you ever getting a steak that good for $12 in the US.

On the other end of the spectrum we finally tried a parillada, a platter of different kinds of grilled meats. We went to one of the oldest restaurants in town, which had no menu. We just ordered the parillada, which was advertised outside for 30 pesos, or about $8. It was not our favorite thing thus far. There were large blood sausages, which we are fans of in Ireland, but this one was more, well, bloody. There were some ribs, which had a good flavor, but were very chewy. There were some good tasting small sausages. Then, there were organs. I ate some liver and I think Eric ate some heart that he was not fond of. There were some intestines and other strange and nasty bits on the platter that we could not get through. I am glad we did it once, but it was not my favorite.

Me Llamo es Amber

We stayed in Cordoba for a week for one purpose - I wanted to take Spanish lessons. I took three years of Spanish in high school many, many moons ago. I figured with three months in South America, this would be the opportunity to refresh my knowledge. I planned on taking classes for about 5 hours a day for five days while Eric kept himself occupied doing who knows what. I showed up at 8:30 in the morning to take a placement test, assuming I would be in one of the basic, but not the absolute beginner class. The written exam had some sections which I was able to figure out, but when it came to understanding the difference between ser, estar, and hay, I was at a loss. I was placed in the beginner class. My first class was with an Australian couple who took two weeks of classes at the same school in Buenos Aires. They were quick to complain and exited our class in a jiffy. It was kind of funny because they were similar to Eric and me. It seemed that she was quick to pick up the language, and he was not. She spoke pretty well for only two weeks, but I was the only one in the class who understood any of the instructions. Well, they left the class. I was left with the professora and an English kid on his gap year. He had never taken a lick of Spanish before, but was staying with a host family while in Cordoba, which I think helped speed up his absorption. I was proud of myself for continuing to understand about 90% of what the professora said, but had to wait for the English kid to comprehend everything. My problem was being able to speak - there was just some sort of nervous mental block between the thoughts and translations in my head and the way the words sounded coming out of my mouth. I felt pretty refreshed on sentence structure and basic verb conjugations by the end of the week, enough to ensure we would get by on the continent. But, I was hoping I would continue to have time to practice. Here’s hoping.

Jenny, Lucas, and Huevo

Through the wonders of Facebook, one of Eric’s coworkers introduced us to a couple who live in Cordoba. Jenny is an expat from Ohio who married Lucas, a Cordobese. They live in a cute little pink house across from a large park on the outskirts of town, with their cat Huevo. They invited us over for dinner, which was fabulous, with empanadas and kebabs. They also introduced us to a Cordoba specialty, Fernet and Coke. Fernet is a dark liquor with a slightly bitter and medicinal taste. It is Italian liquor that is very popular in Cordoba. Although bitter, when mixed with the sweet Coke it is actually pretty good. After dinner, Jenny and Lucas took us for ice cream at Guido, a popular ice cream chain in Argentina. We really hit it off and it was nice to speak with someone from Cordoba who could explain some of my questions. It is always great to speak with locals, and especially to be invited into someone’s home. Muchas gracias Jenny y Lucas. See, those Spanish lessons are really paying off.

Loudest Hostel on Earth

In addition to continuing to feel old in the Argentine hostel scene, Le Grand Hostel was easily the loudest place we have stayed to date, ever, anywhere in the world. Every tiny noise went barreling through the hallway, bouncing off the tile floors and through our window, under our door, and through the walls. Even ear plugs did not help. Like in BA, music played 24 hours a day. The noise continued late into the night and always started first thing in the morning, ensuring a peaceful sleep from about 4 am until about 7 am. The early morning noise often came from the cleaning people outside the door, or guests going in and out. One morning a construction crew working in the hall started blaring a radio before 9am. Ridiculous. Most days my Spanish class started at 1pm, so I could try to sleep in a bit. My last class, however, started at 9am. The night before was the worst. There was loud screaming in the courtyard around 2 am that woke me up through my ear plugs. For the second night in a row I fell asleep with my iPod on and did not fall back to sleep until well after 3:30 am. Eric was quick to point out when I woke a little before 8am that it was the first quiet morning since we had arrived. That morning, as I left the hostel a little after 8am, a small group of drunkards were falling up the front steps of the building. I noticed that trend throughout the neighborhood - people falling all over the sidewalk, or out of a cab. It appears that 8am is the proper time to get home from a fun night out. I don’t know that I would ever fit into this schedule. Or so I thought. . .

Adios Cordoba - Asado Style

After six nights of very little sleep, with the smallest amount being Thursday night, I was hoping to sleep well on Friday night. But, I also wanted to spend an enjoyable last evening in Cordoba. Around sunset, we went back to our favorite little RestoBar around the corner for some wine and another fantastic selection of meats and cheeses. When we walked outside we noticed that not only that the temperature dropped significantly, but the wind picked up and it was blowing around dust, like we were in a dust storm in the middle of the desert. There were no people on the streets either, so we had to sit inside at our restaurant and watch the loco weather outside. After, we tried to walk around, but the wind kept blowing dirt into my eyes. I was disappointed in the evening, but we returned to the courtyard of the hostel to mess around on the internet, and drink a little more. Our goal was to drink enough to make it easier to sleep through the expected noise outside. Well, that goal was certainly met.

We spent a few minutes talking to a German guy who was traveling around while noticing that a very large group of guests were preparing a giant asado - a big grill. We were planning on spending a late night up with the big fiesta - the asado was right outside the window of our room. As we dropped our things off in the room to get some food, we were stopped by some of the chefs at the grill. They offered us a glass of Fernet with Coke. As they finished their grilling and sat down to eat, they offered us each a small choripan that was absolutely amazing. We popped out to buy some empanadas for a light dinner. We sat in the hostel kitchen and before I had two bites of one of my three warm and cheesy empanadas, one of the asado group dropped of a plate with some meat on it for us. We thanked him profusely, even more so when we started to eat it. It was some of the tastiest meat we have ever had. To thank them, Eric bought a big bottle of beer from the hostel and dropped it at their table. Of course, that meant that they came over to us with some potatoes and even more meat. We were in asado heaven. At this point, we needed to take our thank you up a notch, so I ran across the street to buy a small bottle of Fernet, which, of course, was met with a couple more glasses of Fernet and coke. We finally had to say no as they continued to offer us large chunks of meat, and we just could not eat another bite. In fact, we were not even hungry when we bought the empanadas, and here we were stuffing meat down.

We spent some more time talking to some of the group and found out they were all students from a university in San Luis, a town not far away. They were studying tourism and came to Cordoba on a field trip of sorts, visiting a Sheraton hotel in the area. They were all super nice and we sat around talking for a while. It was the first time that I was able to practice my Spanish, and they were all very patient with me, even if some of them would speak back to me in English to practice their language skills. I realized that in class I was nervous speaking and had trouble getting the words out. But, after a few Fernet and Coke it was as if I had beer muscles. I relaxed and just started talking. It was the first time I could even come close to saying I was conversational. They helped with some words and verbs, and corrected me at times, but I think they understood me. I spent a few hours talking with them. Several of them were heading out to clubs and they invited us but it was just not our scene, so we politely declined. At one point, we asked someone what time it was - 3:30am. How did that even happen? I assume it was because the meat was not served until around 11pm, so after a few hours of chatting, we found ourselves going to bed at 4am. That was the closest we came to observing the local culture and schedule. But, we were celebrating my “graduation” from my one week of language classes, so it was okay. When we got back to our room we were exhausted, and proud that we stayed up with the young kids. I was proud of my language skills. As soon as we entered the room, Eric turned to look at me, and said “I don’t even know who you are anymore.” He was stunned at the Spanish words coming out of my mouth. It was a great way to say adios to Cordoba.

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