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Published: February 7th 2019
Today we fly 800 miles north-east to Córdoba. It’s rather a dull day; drive, airport, flight, airport, drive. My only source of entertainment; a book I found at the hotel, which I wouldn’t have chosen given a choice of two. But it’s OK if you’re into American submarine sinking conspiracies.
Finally we reach our hotel in Córdoba; Yrigoyen 111. It’s very pleasant and heaving with professional tennis players, as there’s an ATP tournament in progress.
We walk a mile across town to meet a friend (a student we hosted in the summer). She’s given us an address but it’s for a block of flats, so when we arrive, we realise we don’t know which flat is hers. We consider standing in the street shouting ‘Wilma’ but then manage to WhatsApp from a petrol station round the corner.
We have a lovely evening catching up with the lovely Wilma and her daughter, then return to the hotel to try to sort out our banking issues (one account is happily giving our cash to strangers and another has security so tight it won’t even give it to us).
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