From Cordoba, our group boarded a small bus for the hour-plus ride out to Cosquin. Normally, there wouldn’t be much call for going to the small town, but we just so happened to be there during the Festival Nacional de Folklore, the nation’s annual traditional music and dance festival.

Hundreds of musicians, dancers and artisans flood the town (not to mention thousands of spectators) and turn it into a huge circus. The town square is taken over by tons of vendors of every kind, musicians set up on every corner, large crowds form circles around dancers of every age and skill level (including some very amateur dancing by some of us gringos), restaurants bring out extra seating and extend well into the streets, and everyone jacks up their prices by 50%.

We stayed for two nights, enjoying the sights and sounds and staying out until early morning. During the days, we did our best to stay out of the blistering heat. On the third day, we attempted to see the 7 Waterfalls near La Falda, a small town roughly 20 minutes away, but after a bus, a taxi and a park entrance fee, we found that there was no water in the falls these days. We never did find out if this was caused by a drought or if the water was controlled by a dam or if this was just some freak occurrence. Either way, most of us needed to get going further on down our respective paths.

Many of the guys I had been travelling with had far different itineraries than myself, and so, many goodbyes were said. This was a crazy group of good guys who had travelled more or less together for about a month. Fun times indeed.

Robby and myself headed (on yet another long distance night bus – this will be the norm every few days for the rest of my time travelling through Argentina) for Mendoza, the heart of Argentine wine country. Once there, we found a beautiful city with wide, tree-lined streets and plenty of park areas. We took it easy that first day, mostly just leisurely walking around, taking in the surroundings. The big tourist attraction of the city is to tour some of the famous wineries on bicycle. We figured we’d do this the next day. However, when we awoke and decided to head out to the wineries, we found out that all of them are closed on Sundays. Frankly, I was just shocked to know it was Sunday. I’ve lost track of days and dates.

Instead, we had ourselves yet another leisurely day of walking about town, this time, to the large park on the western edge of the city. In the park, we met two local guys and struck up a conversation. They told us that one of Mendoza’s football (soccer) teams, Independencia, was playing that night and that we should go. It sounded as good as any other idea we had for the day, so we went back to the hostel, had a siesta (I’ve never been much of a napper, but the Argentine schedule demands it – dinner at 11PM?!?!), and headed back to the park for the game. The crowd was great, and the home team kicked ass, crushing Italiana de Buenos Aires 4-1.

So, tomorrow, we will once again attempt to ride bicycles and drink wine. I hope we succeed, because, regardless, we leave tomorrow night on an absurdly long night bus to Bariloche, the gateway town of Patagonia.