Published: September 19th 2011September 18th 2011
We got the bus to Cordoba the next morning at 9:15, which was supposed to take about 10 hours. We ended up getting into Cordoba at about 22:00, a lot later then we were expecting. I wasn’t too keen on walking through an unknown town trying to find the hostel at this hour but we made it without incident. On arrival we learnt from the hostel that the room (£23) had been double booked so rather than having a double bed we had to settle for two single beds. We didn’t come off to badly though as the hostel discounted the price for the inconvenience. Breakfast here was a bit pants unfortunately, but this seems to be common over Argentina where sweet pastries and cakes seem to be the norm in the morning. It sounds great but in reality I just cannot handle that much sugar in the morning. I miss my boring Weetabix...
The next day we went to the ‘Che’ museum in a small town called Alta Garcia. After getting off the bus (£3) we had absolutely no idea where to go. At this point a chap standing on the street corner said something to
us, no idea what it was but Tina replied with ‘Che Museo?’ and he gestured us to follow. Maybe I’m on the defensive too much because I wasn’t keen on this either, but again, we got there no problem. I think I need to chill out a bit.
I was quite looking forward to it because I never know what to think of the Che Guevara story and was hoping that the museum would help me make up my mind. It didn’t really. We had nothing against the museum it just focused very heavily on his childhood and teenage years rather than his ‘revolutionary’ years. I guess this was too be expected when the museum was in the house he grew up in. We also weren’t sure of the authenticity of some of his so-called belongings there. It’s worth a look though and for the 5 peso entry (75p) fee you can’t really go wrong.
That evening we had a McDonalds for dinner. That’s all I have to say about that. We then went back to the hostel to watch some Greys Anatomy and to try and decide where to get the bus to the following day.
We were torn between Mendoza and Salta but Salta was a better ‘tactical’ choice being further north, which is where we are heading.
We didn’t think much of Cordoba. It came across as being a bit of a ghost town and everywhere seemed to be closed all day for the both days we where there. The restaurants hadn’t even opened by 7pm! Maybe we just weren’t in sync with the locals or it was due to it being the weekend.
On our final day in Cordoba we were up early, dodging the tumbleweed as we headed to the bus station to secure ticket out of this party town. We got a ticket for 10:15 that evening, which meant we had about 12 hours to kill! The hostel let us hang around for the day until our bus was due, which is what we did.
Hostels are weird. We haven’t really spent much time in ours apart from sleeping but I’ve noticed the same people just seem to hang about day in day out doing nothing, they are ALWAYS there. At first I suspected they were the long-term resident party animals which can be seen in the obligatory
‘dinner time party’ pictures, which every hostel uses to advertise themselves but no, at night they don’t party. In fact, I’ve never even seen one smile. I’ll be referring to them as trolls from now on, Hostel Trolls. Bloody trolls think they own the place some times. Common traits I have observed are; blocking access by standing in front of commonly used utilities, like the sandwich toaster for example and playing the guitar loudly (and badly) at 5am. Yesterday one attempted to bully us out of the TV room by standing in front of the TV and changing channel when we were clearly watching a DVD. I can only think that because we had paused the film for a minute he thought we had sacrificed any right to continue watching. Take no shit from the trolls!!
After a long and quite boring day we headed to catch our bus to Salta. I started reading a book I brought with me, American Psycho. It’s actually a book I borrowed from a pal I worked with before he moved to Australia and I’m delivering it back to him in exchange for free accommodation when we get there. He doesn’t know this though and I don’t think he’s reading this. I’m sure he will appreciate the effort I have made to return his book to him.
The bus journey went alright apart from the crying babies and we are now at our hostel in Salta. The chap that owns it is from London it seems, so we will be getting as much information out of him as we can. Oh... Tina says I need to get a move on...