Posadas: Staying for the Heat and Chilled Cheap Cheap Beer.

The bus ride to Posadas was the first single story bus I’ve been on since Bolivia. It was kind of a shock actually, after 3+ months of nothing but 2 story buses it’s an
odd experience getting on a normal bus again. The most obvious different being
back on a standard bus for a 5 hour trip was the suspension, or lack there of.
A bumpy ride to be sure and I unfortunately had a chair that would only
recline, so I had to spend the entire trip lying back, which sounds a lot less
annoying than it really is!

Posadas is still in the tropics like in Iguazu – both cities are in the Misiones state of Argentina, so it was 30 degree heat the entire time. And how glorious it was,
just sitting in the main plaza for an hour soaking up the heat and watching the
passing by of the locals was bliss. There was even one day when a small protest
group gathered on the plaza yelling angrily at the municipal building over
something.

I’m fairly convinced now that a mix of my accent and learning Spanish from several countries has tainted my speech. Jumping into a taxi upon arriving at the bus terminal, I asked to be taken to the Plaza de Julio, pronouncing Julio properly
in Spanish as hoolio. The cab driver looked confused and said he didn’t understand. Plaza de Julio, I said again in clear Spanish. Nope, he still was confused. Plaza San Martin, he said, Plaza de Julio he said… wait, yes that one… isn’t that what I said?? 15 minutes later were arrived at Plaza San Martin, not Plaza de Julio, which was actually better for me anyway as the hostel I was looking at staying at was closer to this plaza.

There’s not much to do here in Posadas. The city is on the border of Paraguay, separated by the great river Parana River, and it’s quite cool to look across a river and see another city in another country. Unfortunately as beautiful as the river
is, there really aren’t that many restaurants or cafes taking advantage of it.
There are a few, and the one I had lunch at was really awesome, but for a
couple of kilometres of prime dining experience, it was oddly lacking.

However Posadas’ city centre makes up for it. There are a tonne of places to eat, sip coffee and drink beer. There was even one place that had 1 litre beer for a
scant 12 pesos, when it was normally double that everywhere else! If there was
one thing that made me think twice about leaving Posadas it was how incredibly
cheap everything was.

After a third night I decided to move on. This was partly due to the owner of the
hostel knocking on my door every morning at 10am sharp to see whether I was
staying another day. And also largely part to the fact I was being bitten by
something in the room (bed bugs I guess) and had bite marks all over my arms
and feet, which were damn itchy.

Cordoba: Argentinas Second Capitol

Cordoba is the second largest city in Argentina, but you wouldn’t know it. It’s extremely compact in the city centre, with all its restaurants, plaza and cafes all
within walking distance. They have a pedestrian strip that covers a good half
of the central area, and it makes me agree with whatever planner it was that
said George St in Sydney should become a pedestrian strip – it really brings
out such a nice aspect of the city for people to converse on and opens things
up for outdoor cafes.

The heat continued for the first two days and suddenly decided to turn trumps and become raining. Again, I fell to thinking about Sydney and how this is exactly how Sydney weather acts – blaring barmy heat one day, humid overcast the next. In the first couple of hot days it did give me the opportunity to get some laundry
done – since I could wear shorts again I could get my pants washed… which I
don’t think I’ve had washed in at least 6 months.

My lack of comprehending Castillo reached a high point here. After wandering by a promising looking café in the morning, I made my way back there for lunch. After sitting down the waiter came over and normally the first thing I do is ask for
the menu. And normally this isn’t a problem. The waiter rattled off a bunch of
words I wasn’t familiar with until I heard comida – food. Yes I replied, and he went off. After sitting around for 10 minutes I was wondering if I’d been forgotten, and when he finally did return he told me I couldn’t sit here if I wasn’t going to order anything!

My dumbfounded face and poor Spanish must have clued him into the fact I had no idea what was going on about, and he beckoned me inside. Following him I soon found myself at a buffet. There was no menu because it was a bloody buffet, and when he saw me reacting to that realisation he pointed and said buffet! Ahhhh, they had everything here, and I piled up on lamb and pork and roasted potatoes. They then weighed my plate – something I’ve never seen before – and I sat down to one of the best meals I’ve had in Argentina!

Only a few weeks ago I was watching the news and saw there was rioting in Cordoba. I still don’t know what it was about, and the girl at the hostels reception wasn’t sure either. The rioting had since vanished and there were even banners over some of the bridges asking for no violence in the city. Outside the cities Justice Palace I watched as a solitary man armed with a cardboard sign and a megaphone continued the fight against what ever he was protesting about. He seemed pretty passionate, but no one was really caring.

Cordoba also has a huge park. It’s a common thing in big Argentinian cities to have a major park space, however the park here could really have used some love. A broken down old ferris wheel sat overlooking the area, and there is a distinct lack of green for a park. It would have fit in perfectly in a desert city, but here the brown grass, the spiny shrubs and dust clouds weren’t all that inspiring.

After two days of poor weather I finally left Cordoba. The day I was leaving was so nice I even contemplated another day here, or perhaps the rest of the weekend,
however this hostel was a known party hostel and don’t think I could handle a
Friday/Saturday night where the hostel had a bar just outside my room. Not it
was to be a temptation I couldn’t resist if I stayed, just I can’t stay up the
long hours Argentinians do these days. I’m getting old you see!

The buses in Argentina appear to work on two timetables – either they’re on time or incredibly late. The bus to my next stop, Rosario, was an astonishing 2 hours
late. There were only about half a dozen of us left by the time the bus
arrived; most of the other people that had been waiting left in annoyance some
time beforehand. I also used it as an excuse to go back to the hostel and spend
another night, bit after the first hour of waiting I became determined to stick
it out.

With the bus finally arriving, we boarded and started on the 5 hour ride to the city of Rosario.

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