Much Ado About Monday

Having ridden out the weekend with a few bottles of Malbec in San Telmo, and thus lightening the load from the Basement Jaxx concert the night before, I decided that an overnight bus to Córdoba would take care of my tiredness and let me sleep it off. But when we make uncharacteristically good time travelling, and I arrive two hours earlier than expected – at 6am – I am not exactly well-rested.

Needless to say, I make my way straight to the hostel, which was fortunately not full, and could check me in straight away. I don’t even bother to wake for breakfast, instead waking a little after lunch to stroll through the city towards Plaza San Martin. The streets are full of students – no big surprise when Argentina’s second largest city contains no less than seven universities.

Luckily the sun was out again, having hidden itself for much of the last week, and I lazily decided to trust the guidebook and head for a tart at El Viejo Esquina (‘the old corner’) – which is just that. An aged café/bar filled with thick dark wood sleepers that make up the bar and outer perimeter where people are perched on stools eating home-cooked goods. Vintage music, faithfully played throughout the rest of the country, sees me humming along to the Beach Boys “Kokomo” and then Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares To You”. Random.

And when my tart arrives, I am well rewarded with a pastry bigger than my hand, smothered with mashed pumpkin, herbs and the sweetest cheese I have ever tasted. It is pure divinity, the perfect set-up for the sights I am about to see, or so I thought. Named the Cultural Capital of Latin America in 2006, I must admit that I had high hopes for this educational hub, which were sadly let down when I came to my first stop and realised that being a Monday, no museums were open.

But I was pleased to see some scaffolding up, and buildings being looked after and restored every so often. There were lots of bookstores open too, obviously to service the student crowd, and people on the prowl – presumably on holiday because of the Holy Week holidays leading up to Easter. I was also easily impressed by the clear blue signposting they had up, marking out each of the city’s historical and cultural places. A first for South America. At least I knew where I would go tomorrow.

So instead, I allowed myself to indulge in some retail therapy, and was immediately fascinated by the set-up of each of their shops. With the first half of each being devoted to displays of clothes and shoes on offer, the back half is left to merely stack the goods high on all the remaining wall space. Basically, there is no real browsing, no touching of what you might like - if you want to look at something up close, you have to ask for help.

I slowly head home and finish off my tour at the Paseo de Buen Pastor, the renewed site of the Córdoba’s former women’s asylum of the same name. A bit of a strange place to reinvigorate the city’s gastronomy, but all the while, I make myself cozy inside one of the cultural centre’s restaurants with a half litre of choppe (tap beer), and a plate of salted peanuts. Life could be much worse on a Monday.