That beach trip...not quite as successful as we´d hoped.
We did a little strolling around Rosario yesterday morning, saw the building where Che Guevara´s family lived when he was born and a big national monument to the flag. It took a while to figure out where we could get the appropriate bus to the beach and all the while it was clouding over. It turned out to be a longish ride too and by the time we arrived we were starving and it wasn´t really beachy weather anymore.
We ducked into a mega shopping mall in the middle of a park(!) and had fast food lunch--I said to Rhia it was the equivalent of going to Bayers Lake for a bite--then walked a bit along the waterfront. The nearest section of beach turned out to be covered in rats and garbage, and people fishing. Not that appealing after all. I believe we´d have reached a more hospìtable section if we´d stayed on the bus a little longer.
We taxied back into town, changed and did a little more wandering, finally ending up having dinner at a large restaurant/cafe joint where there was a jazz band playing.
We´re getting pretty accustomed to the late dinners. It was about 11:30 by the time we ordered dessert.
We got our bus at 8:30 this morning and arrived here in Cordoba around 3:30. The buses are really comfortable and punctual. We´re planning to take an overnight bus Thursday when we leave here for Salta--a 13 hour ride--and it should have fully reclining seats and the whole bit.
We haven´t had a lot of time to find our way around Cordoba, but it looks pretty appealing. It took a while to find a hotel in the price range we were looking for but without toilets that gave us flashbacks of the Rosario Inn. But we did get settled, back near the bus station. The guy who runs the place seemed kind of surly at first but really warmed up and was quite amused by my total lack of Spanish.
I actually can do some of the very basics: ordering food and asking prices and stuff. But anything remotely complex falls to Rhia. While it´s unfair she has all that responsibility. it occurred to me yesterday that I really don´t mind having conversations exclusively with her...pèrhaps I´ll just stay in my hobbit hole when I get home.
Oh, I´m on day three of Project: Grow a Beard. It´s purely born of curiousity, and this seemed like a good time to do it. Three days in we´re still in pretty well charted territory, beard wise. It´s like a long weekend or something. I think I´ll be able to muster a decent beard, with poissibly a couple gaps in the chin region, unless Rhia exercises her veto very soon.
The great thing about taking on a hobby like growing a beard is it takes no effort at all--it´s actually less effort than usual. I am keeping a photo diary of the beard.
Possible side effect of growing a beard: I might be elected president next week. There´s a federal election and many of the candidates (well, the men anyway) have big bushy moustaches at the very least.
I´m also hoping to do a photo essay on the mullets of Argentina: they´re all over the plaxce and totally unironic. I even see rat tails with regularity. As president, I will outlaw these dumb haircuts.