The bus trip to Cordoba


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South America » Argentina » Córdoba
January 14th 2015
Published: January 16th 2015
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I headed to the bus station straight after breakfast to buy my ticket to Cordoba. Thanks to the lovely staff in the hostel my trip to the bus station was a smooth and as I knew the bus times and the tickets that I wanted there were no problems. The only problem is that the bus station has a bad reputation for crime and as usual I was warned by locals to keep my eye on my bags all the time as it is common for thieves to use distraction techniques – often a thief sprays mustard or ketchup on a tourist and then helps to wipe it off whilst his or her accomplice grabs their bag.



This wasn’t the first time I’d heard this advice. It is the tenth time I had been told about this in Buenos Aires right from arriving in the airport. There are so many things I have to be careful of. Generally it’s not a good idea to get taxis on the street even though they are clearly marked you have to ring a reputable one, often taxi drivers take you around extra long routes to charge you more money, you have to swipe your card at the front door to get into cash machines inside banks to withdraw money ATMs are never OUTSIDE in the street and you have to avoid certain areas. But saying that all the locals I’ve met have done everything they can to help me and warned me about how to stay safe and which areas to avoid. I wonder if locals are overly worried given the types of awful things that have happened in Argentina’s history.



I booked a semi-cama bus with reclining seats, air conditioning and enough leg room. I waited in the queue with my luggage padlocked and my eyes darting between each of my bags and the people also queuing for the bus, any one of which could be a thief armed with ketchup or mustard or the sly protagonist in one of my locals’ stories. The guy waiting behind me said there was a sticker on my back which happened to be a flight label from my luggage. Believing that this was a distraction technique, I panicked thinking ‘But where is the ketchup? Where is the mustard? I couldn’t believe my luck -he didn’t spray me or run off with any of my bags, he was an innocent traveller who later turned out to be sitting next to be on the bus. I later confessed and said ‘Sorry I was quick to get away from you earlier but I thought you were going to spray me with ketchup or mustard and rob my bags’. His response was ‘Don’t worry about it, it happened to me once but it was something much worse than ketchup or mustard.’







We then chatted away for the next 8 hours until he got off the bus in Santa Rosa. He was a German man in his forties who had spent years travelling around. I’m not sure any of his stories were true but they certainly kept me entertained for 8 hours and helped me eliminate some dangerous places from my itinerary and replace them with safer and more enjoyable places. According to him, after being bored of being in a static relationship with an ex girlfriend he wanted more action so he went to Chile to see what adventures he could have there. He waited for volcanos to erupt or for earthquakes to happen. One morning an earthquake did happen and he told me in great detail how he survived it. This guy must have been superman I thought – he’d survived a parasite bug in India, an earthquake in Chile and a dangerous criminal gang in Venezuela.



He told me the west coast of Chile was boring, barren and dusty and a very long trip. He told me it would be more worthwhile to go to Santiago via Mendoza from Cordoba and break the long trip in two – that way I could go on a day tour of the vineyards in Mendoza and stay the night in a hostel and continue my trip. I’m now seriously considering taking a plane from Santiago to Lima in Peru rather than a very long bus ride. He also mentioned that the seafood in Santiago is the freshest and best. Santiago has now become a top priority for me.



For the next 8 hours we drove through the wet, lush pampas of Argentina. Not long after my eccentric friend had left the bus I took out my tablet to write my blog – again being very careful to padlock my bag afterwards and try and go about it inconspicuously. I didn’t feel safe about using it on the bus so I put it away after 5 minutes. Another passenger, an elderly man from Buenos Aires in the seat on the other side of the aisle got out his ipad shortly after I’d got out my tablet. He asked me in Spanish if I could help him work the Ipad as he didn’t know how. Immediately my mind followed the same thought path as the mustard and ketchup technique and I thought this could be another distraction technique and that he might rob my tablet from me.



Quickly I noticed that his manner radiated sincerity and honesty so I relaxed a bit. He was a man with a young spirit a happiness showed in his eyes when he talked about seeing his grandchildren in Cordoba. He reminded me of Abel’s father and I could tell he was a good person. He told me about his job, his life in Argentina and about his family. He asked me all about my plans with a genuine interest and gave me some ideas of where to go in Argentina. Once I began telling him about my plan to see the Gaucho festival in Jesus Maria, another passenger on the bus, a lady from Cordoba who overheard us talking about the gaucho festival joined in our conversation. She was very impressed that I’d come all the way from the UK to see one of her home town cowboy festivals, she told me how exciting it would be and gave me some names of hostels where I could stay.



After this very sociable bus ride I arrived at my hostel in Cordoba by taxi at 11pm. I had a very interesting conversation with the taxi driver about Cordoba. I had planned to spend the 10 hour bus ride planning my trip to Cordoba and Santiago but I didn't get a chance. When you are open to new ideas you never know what exciting things can happen on something so mundane as a bus journey. A bus journey can change from being dull and monotonous as quickly and suddenly as a heat wave can turn into thunder.

Tomorrow I won't have any plans and I will just have to be disorganised.

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