The Córdoba Diaries

Ian Rosenberg
May 27
11 min read

Between El Bodegón del Norte, the music class at the university, and my enjoyment of May 25th, I have shared a lot about my time in the province of Córdoba, but I spent several more days there, doing even more fun things often missed by international travelers.

Córdoba is a historically significant province in Argentina, and despite its lesser international renown, its capital is Argentina's second largest city by population. It's just that often, the wine country, Patagonia, and Buenos Aires steal the show for most international visitors. So let me recount a few of the fun things I got up to in this lovely province.

The Capital

Córdoba Capital is a seriously underrated city. The history is rich and traditions run deep in the people, there are hardly any tourist traps, and from what I experienced, you can trust nearly every local you run into. Petty crime is not really an issue, and instead, you have to worry about befriending too many people! I had read online that famously, the Cordobeses have their own sense of humor, and are known to be among the friendliest in the country.

Like most major world cities, Córdoba Capital's main attractions are historical sites and museums. In particular, the Jesuit influence in Córdoba forms the backbone of the city's history, rooting a deep respect of education in the city. Even nowadays, it's known as the student capital of the country, kind of akin to Boston in the US.

And that strong student community certainly percolates into the whole feeling of the city. Stands selling the iconic Argentine hotdog, called a Pancho, are everywhere, as are other stands selling choripan, a chorizo sausage. Both of these sandwiches, though cheap, carry their own rich traditions of toppings. Stands will brag about their olive-infused mayo or their spicy tomato mix. With a pancho in particular, it's custom to put a "lluvia de papas," or a "raining of potatoes" on top, essentially just topping it with thinly cut potato chips. I am embarrassed to say just how many meals I went in a row having either a pancho or a choripan, but hey, when in Rome I guess...

In addition to the cheap junk food you find all over the city, you also can't help but encounter the bar scene here. First off, Fernet con Coca is practically a religion here. Everyone at every bar is sharing a glass, and any bar, regardless of its theme or what kind of drinks it serves, will also carry fernet con coca. In most nightlife venues, you hear similar kind of music to what you can encounter in the rest of Latin America, or even in America. American pop, reggaeton, cumbya, and rap will play frequently on the speakers, though Córdoba also has a native genre of music called cuarteto. I can't speak on it though, as, if I did hear any, I didn't recognize it. I was, of course, too busy chasing folclore ;)

I found most of the students to be super nice and open to conversation, and though I was still hoping to mostly practice my Spanish, they do mostly speak excellent English.

In general, I felt comfortable and at home in Córdoba, being able to blend in as just another student when I wanted to.

Jesuit History

Both the Córdoba Capital and surrounding towns have immense Jesuit history, as this region served as one of the centers of the Jesuit missions to educate and convert the natives of South America. In the center of the historic district of the capital is the Manzana Jesuita, or the Jesuit Block. The historic university was here, as well as their church and other institutions to support their mission. Nowadays, some of the block functions as part of the university, and other parts are museums. I had the wonderful opportunity to experience both parts of the Jesuit Block to their fullest.

The museum houses many artifacts, mostly historic books and historic maps. Among everything in the exhibition, I found two things to be the most interesting. First was a Bible that was written side by side in Spanish and in all the major western liturgical languages, including Hebrew, Latin, Aramaic, Greek, and Arabic. The second thing I found to be most interesting was the exhibition showing the progression of cartography of South America, as well as, on top of the landmass taking a more definite shape throughout time, the political boundaries also morphed slowly into what we know today. Of course, the fact that both of these interested me should surprise no one.

I enjoyed also just enjoying the Spanish Colonial architecture of the block on a nice cool afternoon.

As I mentioned in my blog about the peñas, I did get to partake in some of the educational soul of the city. On my first trip to the Jesuit block on the morning of my arrival, I saw a sign for a class called "music from our land" (in Spanish, of course) being offered that night. I quickly sent a WhatsApp message to the number listed, and within an hour, had a spot in the night's class.

I arrived to the university quite a bit early, and the professor, Caro, took me in quickly and started asking me so many questions about myself and my interests, and was just so curious as to why I was at the class in the first place. We were able to bond over her love for Argentina, and over my growing love for it as well, and she shared with me stories of provinces and music conventions that she'd attended all over the country. To make sure I would bring back an important piece of Argentina with me, she gifted me a small notebook with Mafalda printed on it—a cartoon character iconic in the country, with some spices and leaves important to the land taped on the inside pages. She was so sweet, and just wanted to make sure that I gleaned as much from this experience as I could—that she provided me with what she could to make sure that Argentina isn't just a place with things, but instead, is a place filled with meaning.

Here in Córdoba, I got the sense that learning is a lifetime achievement. One does not stop being a student. And my time in the class reinforced that. This is my kind way of saying that the other five in the class were not young... But more importantly, they had a strong community. When each arrived, they all greeted each other with kisses on the cheek—and me too—and caught up about each others' lives before we actually even started the class. And half way through the class, we took a break to share a mate, provided by the Caro, and some snacks, provided by the students.

The class focused on pre-Columbian music of the region, particularly music that came from the Andes. I'd made it clear that I was heading up to the Andes in just a few days, and everyone in the class was so excited for me and the music and culture I would hear up there. (And boy, I did!). As I mentioned in the peña article, the class focused on writing and chanting coplas, an ancient form of poetry accompanied by an Andean snare drum called a caja and a specific melodic contour. They'd written coplas in last week's class, and we began by singing theirs. But soon enough, we, myself included, were writing new coplas. Though I was a bit shy to share mine, they were really supportive of me and were happy to overlook my awkward grammar and strange word choice.

Caro then taught us about a new type of song, a vidala, whose structure is much freer and whose content focuses on beauty of land and traditions. She sang a majorly impressive vidala, accompanying herself on the caja. She sang from the heart, it was impossible to miss.

After our mate break, we came back and learned a vidala ourselves, which was about the Andean moon. We all sang it together, playing the caja as we sang too. We learned a third vidala, and then, a few of Caro's friends—who were, admittedly, much better singers—came to help us out a little bit. They were practicing for a peña they were going to put on themselves in Córdoba in a few weeks, and though I won't be able to join the final performance, it was still cool to perform with them, even if there was no audience.

Over the three hours, I didn't just learn about the music from our land. I also learned just about Argentine hospitality and community. It was the first time in Argentina that I'd been taken in by locals, and they made me realize that the people here love nothing more than when a foreigner embraces their culture. They are so proud of it, so deep into their own practice of their own traditions, that they simply must take anyone who shows interest, who may be doing things the wrong way or who doesn't have a complete understanding of it all, and show them, with an open heart and a smile, how it's done.

Though I left after three hours and wouldn't see Caro, nor any of the other ladies from the class again, I have stayed in contact with Caro this whole time, and she's been checking in on me every few days to make sure that I'm learning, having fun, and of course, staying safe. I know for sure that next time I'm in Argentina, I'll make time to see her—I want to continue learning from her both formally and informally.

. . .

About an hour north of the city is the Estancia of Jesús María. An Estancia is just the Rioplatense term for a large estate built on farming and animal husbandry. Historically, it was built and run by Jesuits, with African slave labor. The goal was not the conversion nor education of the natives nearby, even if that came as a side effect, but instead, was just to generate money for the main mission in Córdoba. There are several estancias scattered around Córdoba province, and this one happened to be convenient for me to visit.

My visit to the estancia was incredibly peaceful, as I got just to spend an afternoon in nature, admiring a beautiful piece of architecture alone, and having the chirps of the birds and the quacks of the ducks all to myself.

It really surprised me just how similar the architecture of the estancia was to the madrassas I visited in Uzbekistan last year. It makes sense how that happened, given that Islamic architecture spread as far east as Uzbekistan and as far west as Spain, but it still was funny to feel like I'd copy-pasted a little bit of last summer into this one. The estancia was, just like the madrasas, a two-story building wrapping a rectangular courtyard, with doors way too short for any adult human spaced about every ten feet. I suppose that this architecture plan worked, and why mess with it then?

Villa General Belgrano

One of the odder things around Córdoba Province is this odd German colony about two hours south of the capital. It was originally an agricultural colony, but after that failed, it turned into a booming local tourism destination offering bizarre German-Argentine fusion architecture, German-Argentine fusion cuisine, and nice views of the sierras chicas "mountain" (more like hill) range and the nearby lakes. Primarily, Argentines come here on weekends to relax and have fun. It's like Frankenmuth in Michigan. Though it's not unheard of for foreigners to come, it's certainly not common.

I spent the day just wandering around, laughing at the coocoo clocks and German-style mate gourds in gift shops, having schnitzel, enjoying a mate by the river, and going on a short hike to the top of the local hill. I would say that the main draw of this place is the vibe. It's just a fun, goofy place with some odd gifts, quirky stores, and a totally different ambiance from the rest of Argentina. I don't have too much to say about it, but I am certainly glad I spent the day there.

La Cancha (The Soccer Field)

As I mentioned in my "Argentina in 3 Glasses" post, I was in Córdoba for the final game of the playoffs between the River Plate (from Buenos Aires) and Belgrano (from Córdoba) soccer teams. Belgrano, founded in 1904, had never won a championship. The ladies at the music class actually informed me that this was going on, and though the tickets were way out of my budget, they still urged me to go see the tailgating around the stadium.

Much as you'd expect, both from sports fans and from a university town, the tailgating was crazy. Smoke from asados (bbq's) cooking choripans and panchos rose high into the air, empty half two liter coke bottles, clearly once used for fernet con cocas, were all over the ground, and everyone was decked out in either red or blue. I don't know if I'm just biased or romanticizing it here, but something about it felt distinctly Argentine. Something about it felt more cowboy-ish. More folky, more rustic than what we have at Michigan. But again, maybe I'm just creating a romantic image in my head of what I wanted to see.

The stadium, even from the outside, was divided firmly in two sides: the River Plate (red) side and the Belgrano (blue) side. If you were a fan of one of the teams, you practically had to buy a ticket on your side of the cancha. Watching from the TV later in the day, it was really impressive of how clean of a divide there was in the stadium between red and blue. River traveled surprisingly well, though they're also known for having the broadest fanbase, scattered quite densely throughout the entire country. But even after walking over to the Belgrano side, I still felt like there were more away fans than there were home fans! And certainly the tailgating was more extreme for the away fans, as I'm sure many Belgrano fans just did something before the game at their home before heading quickly over to the cancha. So, it's not quite fair to judge my experience 2.5–1.5 hours before the game as the "official" tally of who had more spectators, but I certainly felt more love and energy towards River. Because I felt like being niche, countercultural, and loyal to Córdoba, I decided to officially dedicate myself as a Belgrano fan before leaving the cancha, buying myself a Belgrano bucket hat to sport during the game.

I watched the game at my hostel, surrounded by some River fans from Buenos Aires. The game was close, 2-2 up until really the final minutes, but right at the end, Belgrano, the clear underdogs, scored to go up 3-2, winning the championship title for the first time in their over 120-year history. I, naturally, could not believe my luck, but I didn't waste too much time in awe, literally running to the main square to see what kind of riot was going on there.

Flags, smoke bombs, air horns, fernet con coca, smoke rising from asados, panchos, choripans, and a sea of blue filled the main square for hours. In addition to celebrating, nearly everyone around was so intrigued as to what I was doing in Córdoba, if I knew what I was celebrating, why I had a Belgrano hat, and how I ended up here. I ended up taking photos with every group within about a 20-foot radius of me, and got several invites to barbecues, holiday cookouts (May 25th was the next day), and drinks later in the week. And of course, I was offered a sip, or two, or ten, from each group's communal fernet con coca glass, and I ate a choripan and two panchos that night. Because, after all, it's Córdoba, and that's what you do here.

Overall

Of course, in this article I skipped over my time at Bodegón del Norte and in Saldán, but those have both had their own moments to shine in other writing. But as I'm wrapping up, I'd like to at least remind you that these amazing moments also took place right in the heart of this beautiful province, and added to the fun and excitement of my time here.

In general, I think the province of Córdoba is criminally overlooked by foreign tourists. It offers so much: safety, hospitality, diversity of culture and sites, and a rich history underpinned by beautiful architecture. My few days here were full of community, humor, learning, and fun. Truly, Córdoba made me learn just how welcoming and spirited the Argentines are, and it taught me that as long as you're open, honest, interested, and ready to have a good time, they will take you and run with you. The Cordobeses really know how to have fun, and I respect it.