Coincidentally Córdoba, Argentina

This morning, I flew from Buenos Aires to Córdoba, both in Argentina. I put “coincidentally” in the title of this post because there is at least one other Córdoba in the world. Coincidentally, I visited on a previous trip the only other city of that name that I know of, Córdoba, Spain, which is probably the better-known of the two.

I arrived at my hotel early afternoon and, after settling in, I left for some casual exploring and to take in a sight or two or three.

Because this was a travel day, I’ll post only one entry today—this one, obviously—rather than the two that have evolved into my norm when I’m based out of one city for the day.

I’ll be here for four nights, so, today plus three full days. I booked a full-day side trip out of Córdoba for my last day here, thus I’ll have two and a half days in the city. We’ll see how that works out.

I haven’t been here long enough to be confident that my initial impression of Córdoba, Argentina, will hold as I explore more, but so far it feels like a very welcoming city. What do I mean by that? I’m not sure. It’s just that I had the sense that the city was saying to me in a very amicable tone, “Why, hello there. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Have a cozy walk around town.”

Is it a bad sign if you think cities are talking to you in English in a Spanish-speaking country? Or talking to you at all?

As I said, though, I haven’t been here long enough yet to be confident in my first impressions. For all I know, I’ll stumble on a section of Córdoba that says to me, “What the hell are you doing here? Get out, northern trash!” I hope not.

All of the structures I’ve seen so far are low-rise or mid-rise. The streets have been relatively calm, with no more than one or two lanes of traffic in each direction.

“No more than one or two lanes,” you ask, “how could there be fewer than one or two lanes of traffic?”

Well, there can be. Trust me on that until I get to it below.

Córdoba, Argentina and Córdoba, Spain are exactly alike. Only in name and language. It’s more than just that one is in the Southern Hemisphere and one is in the Northern Hemisphere; one is on the west side of the Atlantic and one is on the east side.

The historic district of the version in Spain is much older than the oldest part of its Argentinian namesake. If I remember correctly, sections of the Spanish Córdoba date as far back as Medieval times.

I don’t know the age of the buildings here. However, they don’t seem anywhere near as old as that. But they appear undoubtedly older than those in some northern New World cities, such as my hometown of Toronto.

Walking around, I took in a few sights, all within a short walk from my hotel, including a museum, a public square, a cathedral, and a pedestrianized shopping street. “Aha,” you say, “a pedestrianized street. So there can be fewer than one lane of traffic!”

Museo Histórico de la Universidad Nacional de Córdoba

As often happens to me, I’m confused. I’m not 100% certain I was in Museo Histórico de la Universidad Nacional de Córdoba. It’s in a building with signs out front saying “Manzana Jesuitica.” My guidebook lists Manzana Jesuitica separately as a beautiful structure, which it was. My guidebook helpfully tells me that Manzana Jesuitica means Jesuit Block. So maybe the museum (Museo) is within the building which indeed does take up a block. I don’t know.

Whatever, it all seems to be part of the Universidad Nacional de Córdoba these days.

At the centre of what I think is the Manzana Jesuitica is a beautiful open square with a large statue, grass, and palm trees. The apricot-coloured building surrounds it.

My guidebook says the Museo Histórico de la Universidad Nacional de Córdoba is free on Wednesdays (coincidentally, today), but can only be visited via guided tours. I went to the front desk of what I think was the museum and asked about going inside. The woman there, mostly through hand gestures because her English was scant, indicated for me to go in and wander around freely, without any mention of tours. Then again, how would you hand-gesture a tour?

(It’s possible I misinterpreted her hand gestures. She might of, instead, been telling me to leave immediately. If so, she was doing it with a warm smile. And no one tried to stop me as I strolled inside.)

I think there’s more to the museum than what I saw. Some of the directional signs had some English, but the rest of the signage was entirely in Spanish. The only part I went into was a book museum. It consisted of a few small rooms of old, mainly (entirely?) Old World books that I think used to be owned by the Jesuits who previously occupied the premises.

All of the books were in glass-enclosed cases, mostly on shelves, cheek to jowl, with the spines facing out. Hanging from the books were tags indicating the years they were printed. The earliest I saw were from the second century CE. The newest ones that I spotted were from the 17th century. So, they’re kinda old.

There were also a few glass cases that each contained a book open to a page. Those had placards providing not just the date of printing, but also the city, the author of the book, and some information about it. That was all in Spanish, but I used Google Translate on a couple of them. I saw books from Bologna (2), Venice, and Frankfurt. I’ve included a picture of one of the books from Bologna, because who doesn’t like seeing old books from Bologna, Italy?

Most (all?) of those open books were from the 17th century.

It was thrilling to be among so many books even older than I am. A bit older.

Age, they say, is just a number. Mine is a high number, but not nearly as high as those books’ numbers.

Pedestrianized Shopping Street

The Manzana Jesuitica fronts on a pedestrianized shopping street that continues for blocks, and blocks, and blocks. I would have put the name of that street in the subtitle of this section, but, it changes names partway along the street, despite it continuing without any jogs or interruptions other than the usual cross-streets.

By the Manzana Jesuitica it’s “Obispo Trejo,” but it later becomes “Rivera Indarte.” Go figure. In addition, some of the cross streets are pedestrianized for a block or so on either side of the main shopping street.

In some sections where there were no storefronts, vendors had set up tables or just blankets on the ground from which they sold mostly crafts, but I did see one selling mass-produced caps.

These streets are well-treed and have nice paving stone surfaces. They are very pleasant and they’re made even more so by the absence of cars, which, by definition, kind of goes with the territory of a pedestrianized street.

Cars spoil everything. Unless, of course, you have to travel more than a walkable distance—however you define walkable—and there are no good public transit options. Then, cars can come in handy for their users. But they still spoil everything else.

At one point on the street, when it’s still Obispo Trejo, there’s a small, pleasing public square with trees, benches, an open area, and a statue off to the side. Very nice.

Plaza San Martin

Plaza San Martín is Córdoba’s main square, which dates from 1577. One side is a large open area paved with cobblestones and paving stones. The main part of the square is circled by small sections of trees and grass, with each section enclosed by a low, wrought-iron fence. Short walkways between these areas lead into the centre of the square, which is dominated by a large equestrian statue, but otherwise open space.

There are plenty of benches on either side of the walkways through the tall trees, so I imagine there are always several shaded benches no matter what time of day on at least a couple of those walkways. That was the case when I was there and took advantage of one of the benches.

Cordoba Cathedral

The Cordoba Cathedral is beside Plaza San Martín, with its face toward the square. It, to me, has the appearance of a storybook cathedral.

The structure is apricot-coloured and as clean as clean can be. There are three towers, two on either side of the front of the cathedral. A third is toward the back, but centred and larger. The two front ones are tiered. The back tower is domed, but with a two-tier wedding cake-like structure on top of the dome and four small turret-like pieces around the circumference.

I’ve posted two pictures of the exterior of the Córdoba Cathedral here because I think it looks better viewed head-on, but you can’t see the back dome from that perspective. So I also posted a picture from off to one side.

When I walked inside, the cavernous space sucked the breath out of me for an instant. But after that instant passed, my thought was, “Yeah, this is beautiful, but, meh, I’ve seen better.” Maybe I see too many grand cathedrals when I’m in Europe. I might have become jaded. Damned. That sounds snobbish, doesn’t it? Sorry about that. I am normally just an unpretentious old curmudgeon.

That said, the interior of the Córdoba Cathedral is attractive, and the decorated ceiling is gorgeous.

My guidebook tells me that the construction of the Córdoba Cathedral started in 1577, but took more than 200 years to complete.

My walking tour app told a similar story, but with some differences and a significant additional detail. It says that construction of the original church started, not in 1577, but in 1598. When you’re talking about something that old, what’s 21 years between friends? But the app adds that much of that original structure was lost in a collapse in 1677.

According to the app, the still incomplete church was inaugurated in 1708, but it wasn’t consecrated until 1784, and the cupolas weren’t finished until 1787.

The addition of those details about the collapse and the additional work sheds a little more light on why it took more than 200 years, doesn’t it?

My guidebook helpfully tells me that over the course of those more than 200 years, the cathedral was completed under several different architects. You know, I can be slow sometimes, but I think that if you told me that the construction of a building took place over more than 200 years, I probably could have figured out on my own that there might have been more than one architect involved in one way or another.

Considering that it was completed in 1787, the Córdoba Cathedral it must have had significant work done on it, including likely a reasonably recent thorough cleaning. Despite not having a particularly modern style, it looks brand new.

After learning the age of the Córdoba Cathedral, I might have to reconsider my assessment of the ages of the buildings here as I venture farther into the city in the coming couple of days.