Cordoba, in the centre of the country, is one of Argentina’s biggest cities – supposedly full of friendly students and an attractive historic centre – but I didn’t stay. I moved straight on to a small town slightly north of the city, Jesus Maria. I went to visit the family of an Argentine friend – like Rio Grande in Tierra del Fuego there’s no real reason to go otherwise.
Jesus Maria is fine enough, quiet and prosperous with flat wide streets and languid parks, grass bleached by the sun. An overgrown railway line runs through its middle and occasionally cargo trains slope slowly past the old station and on but otherwise the line is a grid mark on a map, crossed only by locals making their way around town. There’s a river with banks of purple morning glory, voluminous weeping willows and a narrow trail of water. Old fashioned shops with long counters sell children’s clothes, bolts of fabric and tools. Cars slow down in the street to let people by and well behaved schoolchildren hang around outside pastel coloured ice-cream parlours. Old men sit hunched over card tables in their cavernous social club (true) and tip their hats at pretty young women – not true but it’s easy to imagine. Jesus Maria is like Walton Mountain and those that live there must find the outside world a huge shock.
Jesus Maria is fine enough, quiet and prosperous with flat wide streets and languid parks, grass bleached by the sun. An overgrown railway line runs through its middle and occasionally cargo trains slope slowly past the old station and on but otherwise the line is a grid mark on a map, crossed only by locals making their way around town. There’s a river with banks of purple morning glory, voluminous weeping willows and a narrow trail of water. Old fashioned shops with long counters sell children’s clothes, bolts of fabric and tools. Cars slow down in the street to let people by and well behaved schoolchildren hang around outside pastel coloured ice-cream parlours. Old men sit hunched over card tables in their cavernous social club (true) and tip their hats at pretty young women – not true but it’s easy to imagine. Jesus Maria is like Walton Mountain and those that live there must find the outside world a huge shock.
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