Cordoba is Argentina's second city with 1.3 million inhabitants, and is almost geographically central in the country. It's also one of the oldest cities in Argentina. It's the site of Argentina's first university, founded by the Jesuits in the 17th century, and is a big student centre now with six different universities in town. Because of this it's billed in the Lonely Planet as a fascinating mix of old and young. Damn Lonely Planet, when will I learn - we ended up using Cordoba as a base to travel elsewhere as we found there wasn't that much to do in the City itself. In desperation to find something to do we took the McDonald's sponsored City Tour bus, which took just over an hour with two stops, which gives you an indication of how little there is to see. I think the bus / duck tour I took in Austin, Texas had slightly less sights but Anna got to drive the boat as it was her birthday so that probably just beats the Cordoba experience. My harshness towards Cordoba is probably influenced by the fact that the one museum I wanted to go to was rather disappointingly shut for the whole of January, and I didn't really want to look inside anymore of the churches. Plus it was superhot and I wasn't feeling 100%.

On our second day in the City we took a mini bus to Alta Gracia, about an hour south of town. It took us a while to figure out exactly how to get the bus there as although the bus ticket told you what stop the minibus might go from; there were no numbered stands and no indication as to where buses might go. Still, Jon did some good Spanish speaking and eventually we found ourselves on the motorway heading out of town. Alta Gracia is famous for two main things, a large Jesuit Estancia and being the place where Che Guevara grew up before heading off round South America on a bicycle and starting the Cuban revolution.

There are a number of historic Jesuit estancias around Cordoba that were appropriated by the Argentinian government in the 1970s and which are now UNESCO sites. Basically this is where the Jesuits used to spend their off time - big ranches with churches and lots of agricultural workers / slaves who kept the houses going throughout the year. The site in Alta Gracia was in private hands for many years until a bachelor descendant of the family gave it over to the church, but it is kept in good condition and Jon was very happy with the oldness of the history within.

In Alta Gracia there is also a museum dedicated to Che in the house that he and his family lived in. I was slightly disappointed that it didn't really stay true to his socialist principals - it used to be 5 pesos per person but I think is now more popular (thanks Lonely Planet) and they now charge non Argentinians 75 pesos to get it. But they couldn't be bothered to print new tickets so just scribbled over it with black marker pen. It has the original diaries he kept during his time travelling around South America where he first saw the poverty that existed across the continent. It was interesting though to see the story of him growing up - his parents, and his mother in particular, had a big influence on his political and social views and there was a sense that the house had really shaped the history of the world. The house is a bungalow on a cul-de-sac on a very residential street that felt a little like Ramsey Street, and there are photos of a visit from Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez who looked somewhat surreal in this small town Argentinean set up.

That night there was a 'friendly' Super Classico being played as part of a pre/mid season friendly tournament that takes place in the summer league break every year and the hostel hosted an empanada making class before showing the game. River Plate are in the second division this season so the tournament is the only chance the two clubs will meet this season - there was hours of hype in the lead up and we saw tons of people wearing their club shirts that day - most seeming to be River Plate fans. Unfortunately for them, River Plate demonstrated exactly why they were relegated with a player sent off for threatening the ref after getting a yellow card, and Boca won 2-0.

Having seen the rather large Estanica in Alta Gracia the day before, we probably headed into our next trip with slightly unrealistic expectation. As I seem to have grown up thinking that most people in South America were gauchos who spent days riding around herding cattle on the mountains (Ecuador) or pampas (in Argentina), I thought it was essential to spend some time on an estancia for another authentic travel experience. What we didn't understand - and again, I blame my non-number teaching teacher - was that estancia seems to mean farm in the country, not specifically mansion style farm in the country.

The journey from Cordoba took 2 hours on a mini bus to the nearest town where the Estancia had arranged for a taxi to collect us. The taxi driver didn't speak any English so we set off to the Estancia and quickly turned off the main highway into a dirt track. 90 minutes and 3 country gates later we pulled into the Estancia which turned out to be a (really) small house surrounded by animal pens. So a very authentic travel experience! The estancia is very much a working cattle farm in the middle of the Argentinian Central Sierras, run by a local woman with help from a farm hand, and a handful of traveller 'volunteers' who work for their bread and board. We were lucky that a lovely Dutch girl called Carrie was volunteering when we stayed as she was the only other person on the ranch (and therefore 50km radius) that spoke English. We had of course left our phrase book at home as we were expecting something quite different - I think Jon was expecting a farming version of Butlins.

On the farmland there was a river that we could swim in and relax by, and there was lots of authentic farming that you could opt to get involved in. Jon helped feed some of the cows although you had to walk through a bull pen to do that so I opted to be official photographer for that activity. The highlight of the trip was a sunset horse trek around the farm - Carrie came out with us to translate / generally reassure us that the horses wouldn't bolt. Jon's last experience on a horse was in Iceland on a pony where his legs touched the ground, and the pony bolted within a couple of minutes of him getting in the saddle. So he was less keen than I was to do the trek, but we soon realised that the horses were pretty docile. It took about 5 kicks to get mine to trot and even then she would give up after 5 metres or so. Riding Argentinian style took a while to get used to as well, but it's a lot easier than Western riding. The saddle has big cowskin chaps attached to protect your legs from the needles (or stiches as Carrie called them) of the plants and also comes with a bar across the front - a bit like riding on a camel or an elephant. Either way it gives you something to hold on to. Wandering across the deserted country landscape, occasionally coming across herds of cattle as the sunset in the background was a definite Argentinian highlight for me. And Jon stopped walking like Clint Eastwood a couple of days ago now….

I think the most valuable thing both of us will take from our time on the farm is learning about the origins of certain phrases you here in English. For example, we both now understand where the expression 'p*ssing like a horse' comes from - my horse demonstrated everytime we stopped to take a photo on the trek - as well as 'horny old goat'. Watching the billy goat on the farm was one of my favourite ways to pass half an hour as we could watch him from the porch of the farm house. EssentiallyMr Billy Goat Gruff had taken a fancy to hots for one of the lady goats and liked to chase her from one side of the pen to the other making the most ridiculous bleating noise as if his lust was causing him great pain. But once they reached one end of the pen they seemed to forget what they were doing and would stand still for 5-10 seconds then repeat. I think goats may have similar memory spans to goldfish, although obviously that is a less well known phrase. The highlight of the seduction was when the goat peed on his own face for about 30seconds. I'm not sure if he was trying to cool himself down or make himself smell nice but it was a sight to behold. I may have grown up on a farm but we only had two female goats and 10 years in London has made me forget anything I ever knew about the animal kingdom so it was definitely amusing to watch.

Next stop - Buenos Aires…

This week we...

STAYED

· At Bauch Backpackers in Cordoba. This was a lovely hostel - we had booked a double room but ended up in a studio apartment with our own kitchen and more square metres of space than in our house at home. The staff were the best, happiest and most helpful we have come across in South America so far and we were only a couple of blocks away from Cordoba's main square. Highly recommended!

· At Estancia Puesto Viejo, a lovely authentic real life cattle ranch in the middle of nowhere. Also highly recommended if you can fit in the travel time.

ATE

· Empanadas made by our own fair hands after a cooking lesson at the hostel.

· Lots and lots of beef at the cattle ranch - unsurprisingly. Jon was super excited by the authentic BBQ (asado) grill one lunchtime where the meat just kept on coming…

· Ice cream -the hunt for Argentinians best begins. We had a couple of samples from Grido, my favourite being the mint. Although this is a chain, it was a good starting point for our quest.

LEARNT

· Although it was a while ago, Jon would like me to point out that in Ecuador I learnt that coconut milk is not a dairy product. Apparently dairy products only come from animals, even though it is called 'milk'. Bah!

· Jon's name in Spanish is Juan Mateo, which makes it sound like he can ride a horse better than he actually can.

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS WITH OUR FEATHERED FOE

· I was going to get rid of this heading from now on as I think the chances of us getting on a chicken bus are somewhat diminished now we are in Argentina. However when waiting for the night bus to Buenos Aires a pigeon pooed on my leg. Massive warm SPLAT of a poop. It was disgusting. I could feel the heat of the poo through my trousers and I was nearly sick. Jon was buying water so didn't even come close to getting splatted. Bad times.