Having planned our arrive into Cordoba after their famous four-day World Rally of Argentina has ended, we ride into the city of 1.3 million in the 27 C heat of early Monday afternoon. We are here to apply for a visa for Brazil.

First thing Tuesday morning we show up at the Brazilian consulate with all necessary documentation, copies of documents (of which they take copies of the copies), and photos with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one. The nice folks there take it all in then advise we must pay a shocking amount of cash for the visas, no credit cards or cheques please, to process the paperwork. Closing our mouths from shock, we hastily, and hoping it matters, tell them we are Canadians. Man and woman retreat behind closed doors for a moment. The new price drops to 546 Argentina pesos, or about CAD$182 for both of us. But still, you should know it will take five business days to process and this Friday is May 1, a holiday. So what should take eight minutes will take eight days, I think but smile anyway. Still a bit numb, Joyce and I walk over to the nearest bank and withdraw the prequested amount from the automatic teller. Guess we'll get to know Cordoba better than expected.

Exploring the downtown city on foot turns out to be a pleasant surprise. Among the charming things about Cordoba is the consideration of the pedestrian. Besides a plethora of spacious plazas there are shaded peatones (pedestrian only streets), and ice cream stores every block it seems. Also there are an abundance of universities. In fact, during school year, there are about 300,000 students living here. That's about 23% of the population contributing to the high energy, highly motivated vibrancy that is Cordoba.

We walk everywhere and although we continue to take the usual precautions, we feel quite safe from petty crime. An extraordinarily thin building on Avenida Colon catches our attention. I imagine the landlord pointing out the great view from the balcony to a prospective client, adding the back rooms are a bit small but airy. I think, taking a little literary licence from Robert Service, that, "there are strange things done under the southern sun...."

Returning to the comment Cordoba is University Town, we learn a little background context. We learn the Jesuits blew into town in 1599. By 1622 this enterprising bunch had started schools and universities in Córdoba, including what is known today as the Montserrat University (the oldest university in Argentina, and the second in the Americas).

In order to bankroll all these centers of learning, estancias were set up, and because they were clever little monjes, and genuinely aided the indigenous, agriculture and cattle breeding flourished under Jesuit leadership. The Lads For Jesus rapidly became rich, powerful and independent organizations. But gathered enemies too. The landed aristocracy didn't like indentured help as educated as themselves, it would appear. In 1767 Charles III of Spain, threatened by the whole thing, issued a decree expelling the Society of Jesus from the continent, and for good measure, from Spain itself. So much for the noble idea of educating the great unwashed and giving them paid jobs.

We get an exceptional tour of the Manzana Jesuítica from Ignacio, a newly minted university grad. With a major in architecture with a minor in history, he makes our hour and half tour seem like five minutes. He guides us through the city block of buildings, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Besides the university, the block has a 17th century church with a wooden ceiling built like an upsidedown ship's hull. Most stunning is the library. When the Jesuits had to leave town, they left behind 1000's of centuries old books, the earliest printed in the 1500's. Ignacio takes us to the restricted room where, in air and humidity controlled, sealed glass displays, rests a collection of restored ancients. Among the rarities is a glass case containing 10 monster-size books. Written in the 17th century, the compendium makes up the bible - written page by page in eight languages of antiquity, including syrian, hebrew, greek, latin and arabic. We stand in awe.

OK so Cordoba could also be known as Scooterville. Not only the large student population uses these steroid bicycles (with a piston the size of a shot glass) but so does every other delivery boy, office worker, grandpa and shopper. Half blocks are set aside for these Asian wonders of buzzing technology. Maybe more North American cities should support these 50 km/litre step-throughs.

Families of four typically ride with dad driving, mom behind and kids bookended front & back. Pictured above is a familiar scene with mama & chico. Maybe we Norte Americanos shouldn't adopt the casual seating arrangement though, or the helmet-optional plan. Although on that last point my friendly neighbour Tom Olsen has an interesting perspective; visit his website at: http://www.dontdiewithyourhelmeton.com/

A more sobering museum is the still-under-construction Sitio De Memoria Ex D2, a former police headquarters and interrogation/torture centre from 1976 to 1983. Chilling recent, Joyce and I soberly realize. The National Reorganization Process, known simply as El Proceso, or the Dirty War, accounted for the "disappearance" of about 9000 persons for sure, but likely closer to 30,000 Argentinians, when their own military seized power after President Juan Perón died while in office.

Joyce stands beside two of the brighter lit cells. The cells in the basement are disturbingly black, dank and claustrophic. Standing in the musty dark, I easily imagine if I were locked down here for even one day, my crayons would snap and I'd say anything not to go back.

The good news is after losing the Falklands War in 1982 to Margaret T & her UK team, mounting Argentian public opposition to the military junta led to its voluntarily relinquishing power in 1983.

We visit many lovingly maintained, centuries old buildings in Cordoba. We find ourselves liking this city more and more in spite of, or many because of, it's volatile past. Four hundred years of stories of power and unreasoned violence sharing the memory collective with accomplishments of highly productive, peaceful life. Blend that past with a future promised by the power of today's young graduates and that, we find, is today's Cordoba, today's Argentina.

Sprinkled throughout Cordoba, like thoroughout its history, we discover the obiquitious Catholic churches quietly riding out the storm that is just life, after all. Today, like many days lately, amid history lessons and the frenzy of city life, we go to church. We don't want to join, we just want a little respite, like many Cordobians, in the cool tranquility within.