I woke up for good as the sun was coming up over what seemed like the suburbs of a city, a city I could only hope was Cordoba. I had slept pretty good so I didn’t know if I missed my stop and when I checked the time, it was later than the anticipated 9 hour trip.

I hadn’t made a reservation for that night’s accommodation so no one was expecting me. I thought I could ask my seat mate if this was Cordoba but he was still asleep. I figured I’d wing it, if the bus wasn’t in Cordoba, I would wind up somewhere else. No biggie.

After watching the suburbs turn to city, we soon pulled into a bus terminal. Since I had no idea what to expect, I still wasn’t sure where we were. The bus was parked and people started getting up. No one announced anything and I didn’t see any signs so I finally asked my, now awake and ready to hop out of his seat) seatmate if we were in Cordoba. Turned out, we were.

I stretched with the best of them and headed off the bus where I could grab my rucksack from the underbelly of the bus.

The bus finally departed the Buenos Aires terminal after 11p, only a few hours delayed. The company I chose to go with, Chevallier, was recommended by my waiter earlier in the day and two women I met en route to the bus terminal.

The ride was going to be give or take nine hours.

Before my trip I had written why long-haul buses scare me and now I was about to embark on my very first one. I figured I wouldn’t see much excitement since the fires needed to be extinguished before the buses could leave the terminal. As I had figured, the bus was freezing! I bundled up and made myself comfortable for the overnight ride.

There was an infant sitting behind me and aside from a little wailing, it was actually a fine and uneventful trip.

I have a playlist on my iPod that I call ‘airplane sleep’ — and even though this wasn’t an airplane, it came in handy and put me to sleep. I put my headphones in, put my arms through my daypack so if anyone wanted to take it, they’d have to wake me up and shut my eyes.

Other than a middle of the night wake up — I think when the bus stopped to refuel, the stopped motion woke me — I had a solid few hours of sleep — good sleep, who knows, but I definitely got some sleep!

I spent the next few hours dodging the stray dogs that wandered around the terminal looking for food and water. I basically walked laps in the terminal with brief stops to drop my backpack to give my shoulders a break. Needless to say, I was sweating from the heat, the crowded terminal and the weight on my back (and I packed light!!).

I met a woman in the terminal, and asked her about the delay. She turned herself into my personal guide checking the boards and the gates for my bus. At one point she left to check on my bus and I wasn’t sure if she was coming back. I got nervous since I saw hordes of people lining up among more hordes of people. I was pretty certain that was my bus but I figured I would wait for her and if the line got too short, I’d leave.

To my surprise, my newest friend came running through the terminal. She grabbed my arm and brought me to the gate (the right one!). It was so amazing to see people looking out for me, in this crowded terminal, where everyone had somewhere else to be. It made me think about this situation had it been in New York. I’m not sure the same experience would have been had by a foreigner. Especially on a crowded Friday night, where everyone had somewhere else they wanted to be.

In terms of price, my ‘free’ night of accommodation would be on the bus. And I couldn’t have been more excited to get on a bus that I knew would be insanely air-conditioned. I had already dug up my sweatshirt and pants so that I’d be warm (after the heat exhaustion from the bus terminal left my body!).

My bus ticket (which at $70USD) was not inexpensive, but if you averaged it out for a 9 hour ride, it turned into $8USD per hour — plus a ‘free’ night of sleep.

I wanted to get the bus that left the soonest — even with the delay. But my new friend told me that the bus I wanted would get me into Cordoba at 3am. He suggested I hang around the terminal for a few hours longer so that I would get on a bus that would get in at 7am instead.

Realizing he was right, since I had no idea where I would be sleeping in Cordoba, I decided the adventure in the Buenos Aires bus terminal would be better (read: more people around) than in the Cordoba bus terminal at 3am.

And an adventure it was!

My new friend helped me buy a ticket and since his bus was also delayed (he was en route to a friend’s wedding) he invited me to grab a drink. Thinking I could pay with a credit card for mine, I agreed. Dreams of a nice Argentine Malbec were quickly put aside when I realized I was in a bus terminal! A hot, overcrowded bus terminal.

That drink wound up being an orange soda, and credit cards, as you might imagine, were not accepted. My new friend treated me, and grabbed two glasses — yes, glasses! The bus terminal restaurants have glasses — could you imagine that at a random bodega in the Port Authority in New York City?

We had a lovely conversation — and his English was excellent so I didn’t get a chance to practice much — but then an hour later his bus was ready to depart. Mine was still not even on the board as it was still a few hours delayed.

Not only was it a Friday, but it was also very backed up because there was a protest. There were TV screens inside the station and even though you couldn’t hear what the news was reporting you could see the images — fires being set in the streets – and thus, outbound and inbound buses were hours delayed.

I found one of the bus companies that had been recommended to me. I got into the (very long) line and was practicing my Spanish in order to secure my ticket. The man in front of me was dressed in a suit and tie and I just took a chance and asked if he ‘habla ingles?’

He did! We talked about the excitement just outside the terminal and he assured me we’d get out of the terminal before daybreak.

Daybreak?!

I finished my lunch and headed to the bus terminal in Buenos Aires. On a Friday afternoon in the summer. From a seasoned commuter and traveler, I should have known better.

The waiters at the restaurant warned me to be careful on the walk over since the area wasn’t the greatest (as it usually happens with bus terminals). One waiter also gave me the name of two bus companies that were safe. So this was news, there were companies that weren’t so safe?? Good to know.

Soon after leaving the restaurant the road had a sidewalk with overgrown weeds and it wasn’t a very inviting walk. I saw two women who looked like commuters and followed them. At an intersection, I caught up to them and asked them about the bus to Cordoba. They told me to be careful in this area, and in the bus station, and they also told me that I should use certain bus lines. One of which was one of the ones the waiter had recommended.

I had just used up my Argentine pesos and had no interest in navigating the ATM in a bus terminal on a Friday night. I’d be paying for my bus ticket with a credit card and I decided that I could take out money when I arrived in Cordoba.

The bus terminal, as you might imagine, was crowded (it was a Friday), and hot (it was the middle of summer). I said it before, and I’ll say it again…For someone who knows traffic is a nightmare leaving a major city (read: New York City to beach towns) on a summer Friday, I sure did a great job of inadvertently doing most of my travel through major cities on summer Fridays.