The Train to Córdoba

This is a rewritten entry from February 3rd, 2009.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I decided to take the train to Córdoba. At about $15 for Primera class the price was right so I bought a ticket for next Monday’s departure from Estación Retiro, Buenos Aires' largest train station. My uncle was skeptical. He said he’d rather fly. But I’d been watching the trains go by for the past couple of weeks from up high in his Recoleta apartment. From his place looking out towards the Rio de la Plata you could see a fascinating progression of linear bands of land use. Directly below were the eleven narrow lanes of Avenida del Libertador and a large underused park full of sculptures. Next were a string of busy soccer fields and the wide rail corridor. Beyond the rusting locomotives lay a large informal settlement occupying the leftover strip between the train tracks and an elevated highway. Finally in the distance lay the majestic buildings and tall cranes of the port of Buenos Aires.

The train was full on that Monday evening. We left right on time heading north past the stacked dwellings of the villa miseria beside the tracks, moving through the well-off neighbourhoods of Palermo and Belgrano and then through progressively more disorganized suburbs. Traveling by train gives you a 'backyard' type view into how people live. With buildings and houses butting right up to the edge of the tracks, and windows open due to the summer heat, you get glimpses of kitchens, workshops and patios full of people seemingly oblivious to the passing trains. Some views stay with me - a fat kid with a grubby shirt leaning against the wall of a patio filled with old tires, several pairs of feet resting up on a table visible by the flickering light of a television, or three teens on motorbikes patiently waiting under a streetlamp for the train to pass.

As the evening faded into darkness the sights that had so captivated me diminished and smells took over my senses. First the pungent odour of a river in the city, then the salty smell of empanadas coming from the train's passing food vendor. Soon the smoke of garbage being burned near the tracks mixed with the moist smell of rain on hot dry earth. By the time the storm hit we had left behind the lights and smells of B.A. and were moving alongside what seemed like dark fields and empty dirt roads. Now all I could focus on was the sound of the thunder that almost drowned out the loud clanking of train cars over old track. The lightning was surreal over the pampas. The rain poured down and in.

I woke with the early morning light and felt somewhat refreshed apart from wet feet and a rash from the sweaty vinyl seats. I soon found out why I had slept - the train had been stopped most of the night. Looking outside, I saw we were moving slowly and there was water everywhere. Some people were frustrated, others looked uninterested – as though this happens all the time (maybe it does). The many kids around me were starting to get restless. There was a steady stream of thermos laden passengers along the aisle headed towards the dining car to get hot water for their mate tea.

As the flooding receded we picked up speed heading past soggy fields and into the outskirts of Rosario. From the elevated vantage point of the train you could see into the precarious settlements that had encroached right to the edge of the tracks. Nobody was around and some patios and rooms were under more than a foot of water. Outside the city the ditches had turned into streams and in the city underpasses looked like flooded pools.

The train was stopped at Estación Norte in Rosario for what must have been hours. I caught glimpses of the headlines from passing newspaper vendors; ‘Trágica Tormenta’ and ‘Quatro muertos en Rosario’. In the cabin, rumours were quickly spreading. Somebody said the train was leaving soon. Others said the conductor had told them we might get to Córdoba by tomorrow. Another disagreed, adding that the tracks had been washed out. Eventually we inched our way out of the station in reverse. I felt disoriented by the movement of the train while facing backwards. Combined with the contradictory rumours and the seemingly infinite landscape of the pampas, I was convinced we were heading back towards Buenos Aires.

The day grew hot and humid. The monotony of endless fields and cattle provided little visual stimulation. Not until hours later, when the train stopped in the town of Villa Maria, was I sure that we were heading in the right direction. Just before Cordoba I noticed that I was the only person in the car with the window shutters open. The old man across the aisle whispered that I close it. As I slammed down the metal grill I saw the kids hurling rocks. At 4 in the afternoon we arrived at Cordoba's Estación Mitre. The trip had taken double the time it was scheduled, yet I had experienced sights, smells and sounds that I never would have on the bus.

There is something different about train travel in how we experience and understand the environments we pass through. The inherent rigidity of track infrastructure creates predictable experiences in which no choices of route, speed or stops are available. Yet a total dependence on single-use infrastructure forces passengers to react to unforeseen problems created by unreliable equipment, freight train schedules or surprise weather systems. There is a feeling of helplessness in the passenger who has little control over the details or outcome of his or her trip.

The views from the elevated position of a train car show how buildings, both large and designed or small and informal, react differently towards a rail corridor compared to a street or highway. Some big uses build next to tracks to connect with industrial freight transport where as others construct towering blank walls to keep out sound. Aware of the inability of customers to stop, businesses turn their backs onto the tracks, using those spaces for storage, dumping refuse or allowing the encroachment of other unintended uses. Small-scale uses take advantage of undesirable land near tracks to build informal homes or encroach into rights-of-way that are not fully occupied by tracks to create extra bedrooms or outdoor living spaces.

Train travel also permits an alternate view of the different zones of rural and urban landscapes. A more or less constant speed of travel with few stops or disruptions allows one to comprehend the relative scale of different land uses. It enables a visual understanding of the spatial relationships between the small highly valued downtown cores, the expansive semi-urban peripheries of most North and South American cities, and the vast hinterland of countries like Argentina or Canada.

Archive: Impact

November 20, 2008 - March 10, 2009

Plastic water bottles purchased: 52

Number of bicycles rented: 6

Distance traveled by airplane: 25371 km

Distance traveled by train: 700 km