Spain - Córdoba

My introduction to Córdoba was a good one. The people at the Tourist Information desk and the taxi driver were friendly and helpful. Plus the rain stopped and it was starting to warm up a little. Things were looking up.

The city map was awful, and I got lost. Apparently, I wasn't alone, because stenciled on a wall was the sign above, Estoy Perdido, which means, I Am Lost.

Because of the cold weather, I had been wearing the same clothes every day, and they were ripe. I handed over my jeans, a t-shirt and a thin sweater to be laundered. When I got them back the next day, the cost was about $15. Arrgh.

I timed my trip to Spain, and to Córdoba in particular, to coincide with the annual Patio Flower Competition. I got a map for the patios that were open to the public to show off their flowers.

My first stop, though, was at the statue of Maimonides, a 12th century doctor, rabbi and philosopher. Rubbing his foot was supposed to do something - bring luck? erudition? - so I rubbed it, then walked down the street to the sinagoga, one of three (two in Toledo) to survive the Inquisition of 1492.

The patio flower map wasn't much better. I simply could not find some of the patios indicated on the map. I learned that the map used previous years' locations. But I did see many of the patios, and the flower displays were pretty: red and pink geraniums, impatients, hydrangeas and petunias. Coming from Costa Rica, though, where there are gorgeous flowers year-round in my back yard, I was a little disappointed.


Patio Flowers




I walked along the Guadalquivir River, surprised that buildings along the riverfront were not developed as restaurants or for tourism. I was trying to find a patio route, but failed. I stopped at a bus stop and asked a cute young guy for bus help back to my hotel area. He said to take the #4, with him. He was studying economics and enjoyed practicing his rudimentary English with me. As the bus made its way past the municipal building, I saw a crowd of people standing on the street, so I got off to check out what was happening.

It was the Hermandad de Nuestra Senora del Rocio - an Asuncion Day tope, a romeria (pilgrimage walk). I got to talking with a couple of Dutch couples and a couple from Toledo. I played translator for all of them. The horses and their riders were on parade. The men were dressed in traditional Spanish garb, and the women and girls were wearing beautiful flamenco gowns.


Two Dutch couples and me

The Mezquita/Cathedral was free before 10am. The building itself was just an immense empty hall with pillars, but with an elaborate altar and side rooms devoted to saints. This was built was a church, then became a mosque, then because a church again - a story typical of cathedrals/mosques in southern Spain.

As I was about to take a picture of the ornate altar, I had to change the batteries in my camera. So I put in the new ones that I had brought, but the camera wouldn't work. Oh no! I was halfway through my trip to Spain with a broken camera. I left and went back to my hotel room, which was directly across the street, and tried the second pair of fresh batteries I had brought. They worked! Then I had to hurry back to the cathedral to get in before they started charging money. But the altar had just been roped off to tourists for a real live mass, so that picture was not to be.

Next on my dwindling list of To Do's in Cordoba was the Alcazar. The map showed it two blocks from my hotel, yet I could not find it. What I did find was the public library, and I went in. It was an old building on the outside, but brand spanking new on the inside. I used the free computers to check my email and bank accounts and to use the bathroom. While I was at the computer, a group of three-year-olds paraded in. They were all attached by a rope and looked between curious and bewildered. They were very cute.

Finally I found the Alcazar. The gardens were lovely, and the sun was starting to warm me up and shine on the beauty. There were purple flowers, red poppies, roses, pools, fountains and a statue of three Christian kings who stayed there when they visited Córdoba.

I spent some time sitting in a big plaza called Tendillas, just people-watching. I observed that women don't show off their big breasts with low cleavage here (in Costa Rica, the bigger and barer, the better). Nor do they have big hips or butts. How can they eat white bread and pastry and not have big bottoms?

Spain - Seville, May 11-13

So I trained from Toledo back to Madrid and then to Seville, which is pretty far south in Spain. On the train, I watched a forgettable US movie. They hand out earphones, just like on a plane. I watched farmland and empty space pass by the window.

In Seville, my hotel was so obscure that even my taxi driver didn't know how to get there. After I showed him on a map, we finally arrived close enough for me to roll my suitcase down the alley. The clerk and the maid carried it up to the third floor for me. The center of the hotel was a courtyard that acted as an echo chamber. All the noise traveled upward. Plus the noise from the alley traveled upward. And my (private) bathroom was down the hall. It was not a restful place to stay.

It was much warmer in Seville and the sun was out. I toured the cathedral, the largest ever built. More homage paid to saints. I liked the Christopher Columbus part and the crown that contained the biggest pearl in the world as the body of an angel.

Then I climbed the 35 ramps up the Giralda Bell Tower (ramps so the horses could get to the top), and looked down on the city. Seville looked very big from up there. After, I stopped to rest my legs and drink some fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Then on to the Alcazar, which showed Moorish influence in the tiles. The gardens of this royal palace were beautiful and inviting. So inviting that I laid down on a cement bench in the sun and fell asleep. Half an hour later a guard yelled at me to wake up. People were standing around, looking at me. It was funny, but a little embarrassing. I needed a nap!

After enjoying all the flowers in the garden, I walked and walked, taking streets and alleys, getting lost then finding my way again. A lot of stores and restaurants were out of business - a sign of the bad economic times. The sun stayed out til 9ish with no rain. I was wearing my jeans, a t-shirts and a thin black pullover.

I crossed the Guadalquivir River, where crews were rowing and a few kayakers were paddling. I walked from one bridge to another, then down a commercial street and bought a pink blouse to go with my leotard pants. I heard a lot of French spoken.

Then I stopped for dinner along the river. It got cold, and I wrapped my new pink top around my neck for warmth. It was a lovely view. I had a caña (small beer), a tarrina (small bowl) of salmorejo (ooh, a delicious thick soup that starts out as gazpacho, with sour cream and garlic added, and topped with pieces of chorizo and hard-boiled egg). I should have stopped there, but I had already ordered an assortment of fried fish, which I left half of. There was cod, calamare, and a few other fish I didn't recognize.

About 8:30pm, people started pouring out onto the street. Everyone walked, except those who ran. Spaniards love going out at night.

May 12

Amazingly, I slept great the entire night. For breakfast, I wanted something American. The sign at a nearby restaurant said, Omelet with bacon, coffee, toast and juice for only 6.30 Euros. A bargain! I was psyched for real eggs and bacon, sitting outdoors in the sun.

What I got were two eggs over easy (I wondered how to order that in Spanish), two pieces of nearly raw bacon, a hunk of bread from last night's dinner presumably, too-strong coffee, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Everything I wanted to see in Seville, I saw yesterday, so today was devoted to seeing/walking in new parts of the city.

I can usually find my way out of a wet paper bag, and I had several years of navigational experience on boats, but nothing prepared me for the map of Seville. And I wasn't the only one confounded. When I stopped to read the map, there were others doing the same thing.

While walking in the center of the flamenco district, passing shops with flamenco dance dressed, fans, hair combs and shawls, I happened upon a store selling dance shoes. I have been on a quest to find comfortable and protective closed-toe, leather-sold shoes to dance in (merengue and salsa) for a few years. I needed shoes that protect my toes that I can spin in. Shoes made for flamenco dancing, it turned out, fit the bill. The black pair that I bought cost 60 Euros. They're not particularly pretty, but they're functional.

More walking and window shopping. The sun came out and went in, over and over. I bought a novel in English by one of my favorite writers, Michael Connolly. Then I stopped at an outdoor cafe, more to rest my feet than to eat or drink. A woman speaking English asked if she could share my table. Diane was in Spain for 10 days - on her honeymoon, alone. She told me right away that she had been stood up at the altar. It was to be her first marriage. He just never showed up. She didn't cry, but she was miserable. She didn't like Spain, she vented about the poor service and lack of clocks in hotel rooms. I lent an ear for an hour, then I had to escape.

More walking and getting lost, then I stopped for a boca of paella and a copa de vino at an arabic restaurant with tile and arches. There was relaxing arabic music playing, and I enjoyed some down time. Later, I walked more, then turned in to read my book.