After a half day of passing time (it involved supermarket trips, coffee and free wifi) in Tucumán (not an interesting city at all), we made an overnight bus, as planned, to Córdoba where we scouted out a few hostels and picked one that had a good vibe and a decent-looking breakfast. It also had the option of a 5-bed flat for the same price as the dorm which we reserved for a few nights from the following day when it was free.

Córdoba is a university city so has a cool culturally vibrant vibe about it. When it isn’t siesta. Because like in Cafayate, everything shuts down between 1-2 and 5-6. I did the tour of the university (with a guide who spoke English with an accent at an insane speed, leaving the two French people on my tour contemplating coming back for the tour in Spanish. As did I) and passed through the small passage next to the cathedral where images hang of some of the people that disappeared in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. I also visited a few really good museums while there – the Museo de Bellas Artes was especially good, displaying a lot of works by artists that had lived or worked in Córdoba, as well as a lot of other Latin American painters. I had another encounter with works by Obregón, one of my favourites from the modern art museum in Cartagena (yeah we go way back like that). There was also a room with illustrations by Carlos Alonso, a series (‘Manos Anonimas’) depicting the tortures carried out by the last military dictatorship – probably the most interesting work I’ve seen in any of the museums I’ve visited on this continent. The contemporary art museum was worth the visit too but more so for the building than the art on display (it was just not really my preference. I’m not totally down with the truly modern art kids).

Staying in the 5-person flat for a few nights was great – more chilled out than dorms. We had a few good nights too and I tried the Fernet Branca/coke mix that is apparently the drink of choice in these parts. My verdict is; not bad, not bad at all! Expect this at all future flat parties I may have. But note that I might be alone with a bunch of Argentines on my opinion.

Sunday was my last day in Córdoba and you would think the entire population of the city had abandoned the place because there was no one on the streets and nothing was open. It was the best excuse to have a totally unproductive day but felt a bit odd. It was also on the Sunday in Córdoba that the plans for everyone in the little group we had formed for the previous week or so diverted – staying in Córdoba and setting off for Mendoza and Buenos Aires.

I was supposed to leave at 22.25 but at that time, my bus was nowhere to be seen. But I was obviously meant to get to Buenos Aires because after an hour and some mutual reassurance from a similarly calm Argentine man, I was queuing up to get my bag on the bus and nodding along to the complaints of an older Argentine woman who could not BELIEVE the bus was running this late. This should have been my first indication that I was about to leave behind the South America I have come to know and love; the South America where you just wait until the bus shows up and hope it’s roughly on time. But I didn’t catch on to that just yet. Once we arrived into El Retiro, BA’s bus station, and I found the metro, I did. It could have been the metro in Paris. And for the next 5 days, BA just proved its European-ness again and again. It’s in the architecture, the fashion (ok, the platform shoes may be a season behind and the slogan tees about a decade), the way people carry themselves. But it’s not in the nightlife – I went to a drum gig my first night in town which turned into a warehouse party. I’m not hip like that in Europe but here I apparently am. And in BA, you party till it’s light out again. Or you haven’t done it right. I (obvious to anyone who has been there or heard about it) fell in love with Palermo and its bars and coffee shops and independent retailers. In fact, if I don’t make the boat to Uruguay this evening, it’s because I decided to stick around in Palermo for a little bit. My warehouse partying ways obviously prove to me that I’m cool enough to totally fit in here. It’s probably my year living in such close proximity to London Fields (I ❤ Hackney) that has convinced me I have the necessary cool credentials to fit right in. And my skinny jeans. Although could I stomach this place and this city for longer than 5 days? Probably not. It’s too much like Europe, too much like London. And I’m not ready for that yet.

I have several highlights from BA that deserve a mention – my lovely Barrio Norte hostel (Chill House – awful but accurate name full of lovely people and staff), the beyond awesome Malba (rivalling the Tate Modern) that introduced me to the fascinating print work of Berni (which the gift shop had no books of. Lost sale), the vintage stalls of Mercado San Telmo (if it hadn’t been 30 degrees I would for sure have walked away from there with 2 new leather jackets and a 1950’s coat with an astrakhan collar on top of what I did buy), and the oh so cheap (160 pesos – that’s currently $12 y’all) but incredible Fuerza Bruta show I caught yesterday. I’d advise anyone catching that show to make sure to stand in the middle of the venue – then you are right in the middle of things. But I’d advise against wearing a white top. If you do, and participate in the show as you should, and only bring a knitted alpaca jumper which is too warm to wear on the walk back, you will get some funny looks and more machismo directed at you than you’d prefer at midnight on the streets of Recoleta.

 Today I went to La Boca which I’d been told to do exactly like the guidebook says – stick to the touristy streets, don’t wander off. Anyone who has ever travelled with me will understand how hard that was for me. But I did it, and as a result, really didn’t love it. There was no escape from the many many tourists and no amount of colourful buildings will make me like places like that.

Now I’m chilling in Palermo, waiting for dinner time and one last Argentine steak before I head off to catch the midnight boat to Colonia, Uruguay. I have heard they have asados over there too so I’m not too worried about the readjustment to a new country. Although there is no blue dollar rate over there and apparently it’s expensive.

Argentina has been a country of contrasts, even in just the 3 short weeks I spent here and the limited geographical area I covered, that has been the biggest impression. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again but how this country isn’t one of the economically richest countries in the world, I just don’t understand. I haven’t quite gotten used to their accent here or the fact that dinner at 10pm is early but I’m all too aware that I’ve left Patagonia off my plans which means I will be back in Argentina one day for sure. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back in BA, there are other places I’ve passed through on my way that feature much higher on that list, but even if I don’t, I’ve at least left a permanent mark on the sidewalk of Avenida Eduardo Madero. They didn’t quite cordon off the newly laid concrete well enough so my footprints are now permanently engraved on a bit of the sidewalk there. And my Toms, as a result, have a weird concrete texture on the soles. Hopefully Uruguay will have nice non-platform footwear options to replace them with?

Today I’m listening to: Manu Chao – ‘Me Gustas Tú’