the move to Cordoba

Since the last time this blog was updated, I´ve made the move from Buenos Aires to Cordoba, stopping by Mendoza for a couple days. It seems as though you can gauge my enthusiasm or lack-there-of based on the ammount of photos I take and put up. I have about 2.5 from Mendoza. Not that there´s anything wrong with the place. It´s wine country, producing about 70 percent of the country´s vino. And there are all sorts of outdoor/extreme activities available, as well as an active night-life and some great hostel. But, to put it in igorously scientific terminology, I wudn´t feeling it, B! So my stay in Mendoza consisted of a full day wine-bike tour (not for the ill-balanced among us) a huge asado, and the hostel pool. Pretty tranquil, considering that the day after I left a tear-gas bomb was thrown into the club I went to the night before...

There´s about 1.8 million pesos worth of wine in here...

Cordoba!

The second largest city in Argentina, a bustling university town (7 of them) which was once home to a one Ernesto ´Che´Guevara. Walking the streets, one feels as though drowning in book shops and watchmaker stores. In addition, there´s a thriving cultural life, and naturally an equally glamorous night-life. More on that later... As expected in Catholic-dominated cities, there are some impressive cathedrals. With that, there are some strong and fierce critical graffiti opposing criticizing the Church´s compliance, or lack of criticism, to the brutal actions of past dictatorial and cononial regimes. As I mentioned before, Argentineans are a fiercely political nations, and no one is spared.

Stencil on the side of one of the main churches. The skull is often used as symbol for the military regime, and this stencil protests the the Church´s cooperation in the acts of tyrrany.

Let the indoctrination begin...

The Man responds...

Alright, so I decided that it was time to settle down. On eof my goals in this trip is to improve my Spanish to he level of understanding Gabriel Garcia Marquez in the original tongue. I fell in love with the Argentinean dialect, and seeing as Cordoba has many opportunities for ´cultural enrichment´, it seemed as a natural choice.

Amongst a wide selection of museums, my favorite was the Museo de Bellas Artes Emilio Caraffa. Set in a renovated XIX century mansion, they hold various temporary exhibition. When I visitied, they focused on Swiss photography. No, none of those dime-a-dozen landscape portraits with yodeling Aryans. Lots of documentary materials, as well as more avant garde and surreal works. The museum itself is beautiful, furnished with black cow-hide couches...even the stairway is all cow. Meat is murder, but in argentina its cheaper than a bottle of water...

The guards were wondering what the hell i was photographing...

All you can eat:
Cordoba takes this concept to new heights, featuring the biggest all you can buffet in the country, which says quite a bit. There´s the stadium-size parilla (grill) the scores of salads (untouched, naturally) the various chinese cum Argentinean dish mutations...even Sushi. and the wine is cheap...money!

The look of gluttony...

All part of your balanced breakfast...

Fuckn Terrorists, even in the world of Alfajores...

step one: Get a fuckn job!

So yea, traveling during Carnaval, in Patagonia, and 2 weeks in Buenos Aires translates into a gaping hole where my wallet used to be. So i spent the first hours of day one scouring the different hostels, looking for a free stay. After 5 pretty gray ínterviews´, I stumbled upon HOstel Joven. Ringing the bell 2-3 times, I nearly gave up hen i hear a voice from above. No, not my savior, or rather maybe...Victor, the owner of the place checked to see who it is. Coming down to open the door, Victor greets me with a smile and a looong yawn. Apparently 3 rock bands stayed the weekend, which translated to non-stop drinking and a serious case of sleep-deprivation. After an hour long conversation about everything and her damn mother, the job is secured and i´m all smiles. A private room with a queen-size room is all mine.- Now for those who haven´t traveled budget-style, a private room might as well be gold-plated. And a free one, now that´s El Dorado! So there´s Victor, his dog Sophia, his other pet

Her name is Maria Jane

,

and an amazingly eclectic mix of characters for guests. Its been six days since, and so far i´ve shared Mate with native (Mapuche) artisans specializing in Leather and Silver, 3 different bands, a few Israeli Mochileros, a student from France on scholarship here at the Uni, and an open-heart surgery patient (He recovered!) Oh yea, we have a transvestite prostitute squatting as a neighbor. Last but not least, the hostel even has its own ghost. Yup, Cordoba has a dubious history involving the deaths of many in the hands of a Church-military áxis of evil´. Amongst the dead are Masons, Liberals, Communists, and a 4 year iold German boy who drowned right by the hostel. The latter isn´t exactly connected to political assasinations, but what he does havwe in common with the others is a long resume of hauntings and other mischievous activities. Think Áryan Casper´.

Stay here, i dare ye...

I´ll attempt to desribe the physical and mental state of this hostel, but pardon the liberal use of my borrowed poetic license. It is a cross between A 19th century half-way house the type in which dgar Allen Poe would be proud to pass out drunk, and one of those salons in Montmartre during the days of Picasso, Brauqes and Vlaminck. As I type this message, Victor who happens to be a chef as well, is preparing the asado (Argentinean grill) and the sound is being set up for our weekly Jazz concert up on the roof. No need to add more, right?