Alone in Cordoba, Spain

Cordoba - Day #1

I admit I felt a little lost today when I realized I was totally alone in a foreign country for the first time.  Shaky, but stoic.  I kept reminding myself that I am an adult, an adventurer, a gypsy...I can do this.  And the day began as usual, dogs, walking, orange blossoms and laughter with conversation.

Lyn sent me off for my next adventure with a country breakfast... 

She is a hostess beyond measure.  Not only did she draw me an intricate map so that I can drive my rental car to her house in one week, but she drove me to the Malaga Maria Zambrano train station and pointed out landmarks to me to follow as well.  She's a princess.

I left the city of Malaga beneath a blue, cloudless sky as the quiet train slipped through several long, dark tunnels where tracks were laid inside the mountain's recesses.  We drifted past miles of olive orchards beside freshly detailed acres of reddish dirt with the clear indentation of swirls decorating the soil from tractor teeth.  

Our first stop was in Antequera (25 minutes from Malaga).  I knew El Torcal was nearby, as was the antique village... but from the train, the beautiful village showed none of the breathtaking beauty I'd seen on my last visit in 2012.  Endless olive trees amid reddish soil amid rocks that grew in size teased my memories.  Beside the train tracks were large, dry rock walls to stand as a retaining wall.  And then more olives for the world famous "best olive oils are from Spain" mantra.  Olives, olives and more olives --- some trees stood among what I'd thought were mustard flowers.  Lyn told me they were linseed rape plants... 

My neck had a crick in it from swinging my head back and forth on it's axle as I looked out my own window and greedily stared across the train's aisle to my seat mate's.  I didn't want to miss anything! 

Next came Puente Genil - Herrera.  Meticulously aligned rust and ochre colored stones lined the mountainside dipping down to the tracks. Since Spain changed to daylight savings time on Sunday (today) I now have a 9 hours difference from Arizona and the west coast instead of 8.

My Sleevy Wonder undergarment from Fosters Fashions felt great when we walked the dogs this morning at 40 degrees.  Now, sitting on the train with the warm sunshine pelting over me, I want to start stripping...it is a perfect solution to dressing for summer, (not stripping...) but staying warm beneath it all...

Five minutes from Córdoba, the hills are now surrounding me and there are citrus groves and plowed fields.  The train slid into to the ancient city on time, I found a taxi and then I was stunned to get dropped off by the back wall of La Mesquite (mosque) where I'd visited over a week ago. 

The hotel room is perfect for one person.  I am sitting on the bed and past my knees I am looking at a glass wall that encompasses the bathroom and shower at the end of the room.  Tidy, clean and cozy.  On the right of this photo, there are beautiful French doors that lead to a minuscule balcony and the mosque wall...

Okay, I'm here.  What should I do first?  I let the special people in my life know I arrived safely and then went exploring.  How could I get lost?  With the mosque as a landmark, I knew I was safe there. The cobblestone street is narrow and shops fill every alcove.  There are tabernas every few feet advertising tapas and wine.  Later, I think.  For now, let's explore.  When I found the ice cream shop a few shops down, I ordered a chorizo bocadilla (sandwich with spicy sausage) and a cafe con leche "para lever" (to take away).  Coffee sounded good.  All for 6 euros.  Then, back to my hotel room to eat, drink the coffee and enjoy the fabulous view with the French doors open and the breeze making the curtains dance.

A nap!  For about fifteen minutes, I took a break and then my mind was awhirl thinking about what was outside.  Was I going to be a weakling and stay inside or go out onto the cobblestone lanes and walk around?  Do gypsies hide in hotel rooms?  No, absolutamente.  Taking a deep breath, my key, a few euros and my notebook, I hit the road.  Following the many tourists, I peeked into shops and headed down toward the front of the mosque.  I could hear music.  I could hear Spanish being spoken around me and other languages sporadically too.  

There was an old man standing with his back toward the old stone wall, his camera glued to his face and the lens pointed toward the arches along the mosque's side wall.  The church bell started ringing and he grinned at me as if to say, "wonderful, eh?"  I grinned back at him, doubtful that I'd know his language, but grins work.

Then I saw a woman with flowing black hair, red lipstick, tight skirt and wonderful leggings (my friend, Cindy P. would love them) walk beside me.  When she turned toward the mosque, I caught her eye and she nodded toward the bronze door with Moorish etchings.  I grinned again and she laughed. "Very beautiful, isn't it?" she said in perfect English.  I took a photo of her and her boyfriend or husband (?) and they both thanked me as if I'd given them the gift of a lifetime.  Maybe I did.

Then, I saw the old Roman bridge that crosses over the Guadalquivir River, built in Moorish times at the first century BC.  Breathtaking isn't a strong enough word for the immensity or the history held in each stone.  Birds cruised over the river, people walked across the bridge alone, in groups or as couples.  Holding my notebook tightly beneath my arm, I walked leisurely, gazing into the water, looking over the edge, listening to guitar players entertaining at the edge.. and I felt it was one of those times when romance shifted into my soul.  All of a sudden, I had a rush of longing to join the "paseo" arm in arm with that special someone as the mosque walls stood high behind me.  And then I breathed in the ambience and smiled.  OMG, I was in Cordoba, the place where ancient men sent their children to learn about the world so many years ago that nobody can really count.  The place where the Jews, Moors and Christians mixed and were content living together side by side.  And I came back to myself again.

I headed back toward the awe-inspiring ancient walls of the mosque and wandered up and down the narrow alleyways until I found Taberna El Capricho.  The sign outside the intriguing tavern advertised "Rabo Tapas" (oxtail tapas).  Could I eat it?  Should I?  Por supuesto (of course).  My Spanish went into high gear when I walked in alone.

"Solo."  (Alone).

"Una mesa cerca de la música?" (A table near the music?)

"Gracias."  (thank you)

When I ordered the oxtail tapas, I asked for "una copa de vino tinto" (a glass of red wine).  

He asked, "tinto verano, rioja or Ribero del Duero?  

"Ribero, poor favor," I answered. (Rina promised it was the best and she was right).

Out came my notebook and I began writing my blog...I drank my wine and watched the world go by as I listened to guitar music, flamenco and clapping hands as the methodical beat of the music touched me and enticed my feet to tap along with every note.  (It was a CD, not live music)  

When the oxtail tapa arrived in a small bowl slathered in dark gravy, I was timid...it was okay, but doubt I order it again.  It tasted like roast beef. I ate every bit; although I liked the bread and gravy, the meat was fatty.  I kept writing.  I think the wine helped me think about this post and then the words flowed toward notes about Callie's next adventure in my fiction book that will be titled, Flamenco Strings: Uncorked.  Yep, the wine worked.

I received the Spanish waiter's first big smile after I accidentally knocked my butter knife onto the floor and it loudly flipped across the tiles.  

"Lo siento," I said (I am sorry).  

His eyes lit up and he responded, "de nada."  (It's nothing).  

Now we are friends and I'll probably go back a couple times before I leave...

When I clicked along the cobblestones afterward, I turned the corner onto Cardenal Herrero and saw the bell tower lit up before me, the bell began to ring as if to say, "Nice to see you here."  

It was a special "first night" in Cordoba after all.  

And I didn't hide inside my room and let all the fun go by without me.  

Tomorrow, I have a date with a WLMer friend named Sue C.  She writes wonderful children's books.

More adventures await.