Festival Time in Cordoba

On our last day in Spain, Mike and I went out with a flourish. As it happened, the annual Cordoba fair was occurring while we were in town. It was huge with a big carnival, food and festivities. But I get ahead of myself.

Our first experience with Cordoba was their top attraction, the Mezquita Cathedral. It was originally built as a mosque starting in the 1st century and expanded under three leaders to hold over 4,000 worshipers. Later it was converted to a Catholic cathedral complete with a renaissance dome. The mosque portion consists of column after column of double arches on slender marble columns with deep russet stripes. It is dark and takes a bit of adjusting to – mostly because of the vast size.

The center section has a “new” tower of heavy ornamentation and floor plan of a typical cathedral but this one sits squarely in the middle of a mosque. The effect, for me, was disconcerting. With a few steps you could feel the juxtaposition between the architectural styles and the feelings they create. The building had a split personality.

Thankfully, the most beautiful section of the original mosque was preserved. It was delicate and intricate in its ornamentation with a subtly crafted dome covered in mosaics. It was lovely. Once again, I felt that the newer Renaissance portion felt overdone like it was trying too hard. However, others who were visiting seemed captivated and more comfortable in that portion.




We spent some time wandering the labyrinth of streets in Cordoba. Too narrow for cars, it was even difficult to navigate on foot and maintain our orientation. The cathedral wasn’t even visible from street level because of the tall, white buildings on all sides. We toured their Alcazar, an old military fort where Ferdinand and Isabel planned the overthrow of the Moors. The building contained beautiful mosaics, old picture-book towers and the original baths. The baths were in the basement and felt maze-like, dank and a little scary.

Once again, there were classes of school children touring the building. As we left the baths, we literally ran into (or they ran into us) a group of 5-6 year olds. My darling husband, who retains much of his childhood experiences, took the opportunity to issue several spooky, “oooooohhhhhs.” The kids, who were Spanish speaking, immediately picked it up. As they rounded the bend we could hear them all repeating, “oooooohhhhh.” I’m sure their teachers appreciated his help!




Behind this building we found a jewel-like garden. By now, you’re probably tired of hearing me rattle on about the gardens, but this one was truly special - really. It was small in comparison to the ones in Barcelona and Madrid but it was filled with charm. Long narrow pools were surrounded by bright flowers and a few carefully placed sculptures. Between the pools, the grounds were carefully landscaped with intricate boxwood hedges that contained beds of poppies, marigolds, roses, geraniums, and artichokes. Isles of lemon and orange trees completed the scene with lemons littered across the ground. We wandered the grounds for an hour in the cool morning sun. From there, our day didn’t go quite as we expected…and it couldn’t have been better. We never found the synagogue and the museum we wanted to see was unexpectedly closed due to the “feria” which we would understand later.




In the meantime, we kept seeing women in brightly colored traditional dress. Some were walking and others were in festive horse-drawn carriages. They seemed to be going somewhere, but where? We finally caught up with two pretty young girls who spoke some English. Turns out that “feria” is fair - duh. This was festival week in Cordoba. The girls gave us directions and off we went!


We followed the crowds across the river to huge fairgrounds. Women in their dresses were everywhere! It was quite a sight. No matter the age, the women and girls were “Dressed.”


I’m still not sure how they could eat anything in those tight dresses. They managed somehow and I had to chuckle at the cluster of women around the chocolate churro booth. Chocolate crosses cultural lines!





Babies in carriages were encased in ruffles that wouldn’t quite fit inside the stroller. They had shoes to match and dangling earrings – yes, on the babies! Mother and daughters were dressed in matching outfits and everyone was happy to have their picture taken. They all knew they looked beautiful! I was so entranced by their dresses that we took tons of photos. (I’ll include some of my favorites. You can skip them if you get tired of pretty girls and dresses!)


In one tent, I asked to photograph three young women. Then Mike jumped into the photo with them – he’s no dummy. Then the security guard got into the photo! Everyone was having a good time.

We saw dance troupes of little girls performing flamenco dances. Little 5 year old girls were swishing their skirts, stomping their feet and tossing their heads in time with the music. It was the cutest thing ever! We sat for hours watching these kids perform. The little boys were also dressed in traditional costumes of grey striped pants, scarf around their waist, white ruffled shirt with suspenders and a matching grey striped page-boy cap. This was clearly an “event” that everyone prepared for.

We loved watching the women dancing in their fancy outfits. No matter the age or body shape, women were in these bright, festive dresses – and dancing away. They all learn the same dances as kids so everyone joined in. Mike managed to video one group until I couldn’t resist any more and had to join in, too. They were very nice to accommodate someone who hadn’t the slightest notion of the proper steps. It was very fun and Mike even joined the dancing. Unfortunately, there was no one to video tape that. I think he enjoyed being the only man and they doted on him! He was in heaven.



The fair grounds were made up of large tents each containing food, a dance floor and very loud music. You wandered in and out as you wished- drinking, eating and dancing. One tent was playing a Spanish version of Donna Summer’s “I Will Survive.” Through it all, horse drawn carriages pulled ladies around, laughing and singing. Men rode elegant Andalusian horses around the grounds, prancing as they went. But there was a fun mix of tradition and new – typified by a young, traditionally dressed horseman who was texting as he rode! It was an unbelievable scene.



On the other side of the fair grounds was the carnival filled with typical rides, fair games and even cotton candy but with dressier patrons. The other tents had traditional Spanish food – tortillas (egg and potato frittata), roasted Serrano peppers, Manchego cheese, Iberian ham, shrimp, langoustines, gazpacho, samlerjo (cold tomato, garlic soup) and, of course, beer and wine. All in all, it was a wonderful and unexpected afternoon and evening. Those are the best kind. It created the perfect ending to our trip.


Mike and I talked about our top highlights of our time in Spain. Here’s the list:
- Spanish guitar concert in Barcelona
- Picnic at the Prado and street dancers in Madrid
- Flamenco in Sevilla
- Alcazar in Sevilla
- Bird nesting on top of the church in Arcos
- Spanish horses in Jerez
- And the best of the best, the festival in Cordoba When we reflect on these highlights, we realize that the experiences stand out, more so than seeing the sights (with the exception, for me, of the Alcazar in Sevilla). It’s participating in life that makes it so enriching.


With that thought, we started our journey back to France. We took with us wonderful experiences from our time in Spain and a better appreciation for the Spanish culture and the warmth of the people. And we’re glad to go “home” but it took some doing to get there.

Our train left at 7AM from Cordoba. We arrived comfortably in advance at 6AM to make sure all was fine with our train tickets. The train station was dark and locked when we arrived! The security guards let us in. I’ve never been in a train station with absolutely no other people. It was 6:30AM before other people started arriving. The shops never opened before we left so Mike missed his morning cup of strong Spanish coffee. It took five train changes before we arrived back in Avignon at 9PM. Thankfully, we had a hotel next to the train station.

We stopped in Isle-sur-l’Sorgue on our way home and it was market day! Yippee! There are no markets in Spain and we missed the fresh fruits and veggies. We were able to shop and enjoy a yummy lunch sitting at a café next to the Sorgue River. Plus, Mike got a new hat! It was a perfect welcome back. What could be better?

Well, we found out. When we arrived at our house in Cotignac, the roses bushes around the house were in full bloom and were bent over with so many blossoms. They were just begging to be cut – so I did. That evening, after unpacking and starting laundry, we fixed huge fresh salads for dinner – something we’d missed in Spain. It was warm and we sat outside with our salads, cheese, olives and fresh bread for Mike and with a bouquet of roses. And it was a full moon. What a wonderful welcome.

Moved by Sevilla

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We're in our third large Spanish city, Sevilla. Each one has gotten more beautiful and with characters of their own. I've been moved by Sevilla more than the others at many levels.

We're staying in a lovely casa that was converted into a small hotel, Casa Numero 7. It's delightful but situated on a maze of tiny streets. I finally left Mike with the car to seek it out on foot. One of the staff went with him to park the car & lead him back! The staff were great and helped us with everything. Thanks Maria, Isabella and Guilermo!


Our first stop was the Alcazar. It is a large palace that started life as a Moorish structure. It was my first experience with Moorish architecture. To my great surprise, it's beauty literally moved me to tears. Having studied Greek & Roman architecture I was unprepared for the sheer beauty of the Moorish style. The extravagant colors and textures were masterfully balanced in intricate pattern next to pattern. I loved it- and this from the person who gravitates to simple, clean design.





The next day we visited Pilate's Palace. It was Romanesque with Moorish design superimposed on top. It didn't work - in my view. It looked busy & out of balance. I was surprised that I could feel - & it was a feeling - the difference. It made me appreciate even more the art & mastery of Alcazar.

I will say, however, that this palace had stunning tile work. Every surface was covered in intricate tiles and the pattern changed each time the wall direction changed.




By contrast, the cathedral is across the plaza. It's the largest in Spain. It's huge & stuffed full of church art much of which are silver alters & such. There are only two larger cathedrals in all of Europe and one of those is the Vatican. It's overwhelming in its size. But, it left me cold.
For me personally there was none of the grace and warmth that exuded from the Alcazar. The cathedral did, however, include Christopher Columbus’ tomb and the second largest pearl in the world as part of a jewel encrusted crown.


We managed to keep ourselves awake for a 10:30pm flamenco performance by enjoying a lovely dinner (my best yet) at an outdoor tapas bar. It was a delightful meal that set the stage for flamenco. And, wow- this was movement at another level entirely. I've always heard flamenco described as fiery passion & that sums it up. I've never seen dance with such intensity of emotion. Energy sometimes angry, sensual, even violent leapt from the stage.


The next evening we swapped intensity for relaxing with a boat ride on the river. It was calm & soothing with a comfortable breeze blowing. In the process we saw bridges by Eiffel & others that we incentive designs that this engineer enjoyed.





Since we've been in Spain Mike has been in search of bulls. We haven't seen any yet so we went to the Sevilla bullring. We had a guided tour of the ring with an explanation of the sport & tour of the museum. I went in with trepidation & left disappointed. Here are tidbits I learned. The picadors are on blindfolded, armored horses. They start the process of weakening the bull the matador wears an elaborate suit (we saw one that cost 6000€ - yep, the decimal is in the right place. He wears it in the dust & blood). A good matador can make 200,000 per fight. There is a long history & the details have evolved over time.
There are powerful, beautiful images of bulls all around. My feeling here was - conflicted. I tried to appreciate the history & pageantry. Mike & I looked for some deeper symbolic meaning. I even asked the tour guide. But after all the searching, it's just a bullfight & the bull always loses. I'll spare the details. In this case, the facts bore out my trepidation.


Our last day here is quiet & slow & welcome. I wrote this morning followed by a picnic & nap in the park. This park is lush. Dense trees & shrubs that make the public space feel private. Fountains & pools of water are woven throughout & acanthus blooms around every bend.
There are arbors draped with luxuriant bougainvillea in fuchsia. The color pops against the blue sky. The air is filled with the cooing of dozens of doves.



Families & kids are out together on a Sunday afternoon. What fun to see these children play among the art & literally in the fountains. It's like seeing the groups of school children in the Prado entranced by Picasso or Velasquez. I can't imagine growing up surrounded by & taught by great art - almost at every street corner. It's a far cry from the Smithville end of school year trip to the refectory.
I realize that the money for much of the art came from less than noble places - pillaged wealth from central & south America for example, but I can't help but wonder how you measure the value to our lives. I'm not advocating a monarchy but who gets the richer experience? Where's the appropriate balance? Maybe the balance is somewhere between our investment in art in the US & here.




Finally I’m moved by those moments when we're not moving - a rest in the park, coffee & tea in a shady cafe, & a late night dinner in the cool night air at a charming tapas bar with a glass of sangria close by. Perfect.

The Muchness of Spain

We’ve been driving through the small white villages of southern Spain and are struck by the muchness of Spain. It feels big, open and expansive – the landscape, the food, the culture – all of it.

In our drive from Cordoba to Arcos de la Frontera, there were rolling fields as far as you could see filled with groves of olive trees. I’ve never seen so many olive trees. Of course, all those groves mean there is a muchness of olives and they are wonderful. We’ve tried as many types as we can and particularly enjoy the large green ones.

We explored Arcos and had our first glimpse of a white village. The entire town is on the side of a hill. There isn’t a flat space to be seen and most of the streets are very steep and narrow. Motorcycles are the preferred way to travel due to the narrow spaces, but it’s difficult to negotiate stairs on a motorcycle. I discovered how they do it early one morning. There are narrow concrete wedges in the middle of each step so a motorcycle can be rolled down to the street level. Glad it’s not me.


After Arcos we traveled along A372 (it’s a route worth remembering for anyone traveling to Spain) to the other white villages of Grazalema, Ronda and Zahara de la Sierra. Of the three, we were most charmed by Grazemela. It is perched on a hillside with white cubes of buildings clinging to each other. We wound along the narrow streets, turning here and there and hoping we could find our way back. And it’s all so very white. I wouldn’t want to be the Sherwin Williams salesperson!




Ronda was impressive because of its site. The town rests on both sides of a deep gorge with a stone bridge connecting the two. The bridge is a feat. We ate at a restaurant along the edge and watched the birds swoop and dive to the rock cliffs below. We also visited their bullring – the oldest in Spain (or maybe the world). I admit that the ring and the museum were more interesting than I expected. We also had the chance to visit a once-in-a-lifetime museum: The Bandelero Museum (bandit museum).
I know….it’s exciting stuff. Apparently, Ronda had a severe bandit problem. The hills and caves were good hideouts and bandits became heros almost. Mike couldn't resist putting his head in the sign by the entrance. That's my guy!






Zahara was our last stop of the day and worthy of a peaceful cup of coffee and tea in their square next to the church. We weren’t the only ones. It appeared to be that time of the day when the local men lounged and visited in the shade of the church




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While all these villages are bright white, the whiteness is punctuated with exclamation points of color. Window sills are filled with red, pink and orange geraniums that cascade through the black iron grills. Bougainvillea with its fuscia blooms pop with color next to the white walls. There are also vining roses making their way up walls and around doorways. Bushes of lantana are blooming in fiesta colors. In addition to the flowers, colored tiles are on churches, public buildings and festive tile can be glimpsed through doorways of houses. Bright blues are the predominant color which contrasts nicely against the white.




The other muchness of Spain comes from the sun. Last week I did not think I’d hear myself say to Mike, “Can we sit in the shade?” But here, the sun is everywhere. The colors are golden in the morning light and rosy orange in the late afternoon. I love it! The sun is part of the reason that the world operates on a later schedule. For example, Mike’s parking karma continues to get us great parking places. We found a parking spot just outside our hotel door everyday but we have to pay a fee starting at 9AM. The nice woman at the hotel desk explained this but apologized that we’d have to “get up very early” to put money in the meter. By the same token, we stopped at a restaurant for dinner on our way home last night. All was quiet in the parking lot and there were no lights on inside the restaurant. The host assured us they were open, and he turned the light on for us. It was 8PM.


Today we went to Jerez de la Frontera. Mike says we were horsing around in Jerez. We went to a performance of the Spanish riding school, Fundacion Real Escuela Andaluza del Arte Ecuestre (equestrian school of Andulasia), in their park-like school in the middle of Jerez. But first – a bit of the saga of the morning. We bought tickets for the performance before we left France – thank goodness- but we didn’t have directions. I found a flyer for the “horses of Jerez” at the tourist office which thankfully had a map – and a particularly good map at that. Nonetheless, we decided to leave early – thank goodness. To make a long saga shorter, their map had the wrong exit number on it! If you are familiar with European freeways you know that their exits are very far apart. We drove an additional 20 km to the next exit just to turnaround. No worries – we still had time to spare. We got to their entrance gate which was closed, but there was a speaker phone. I trundled up and pressed the button and in a few minutes the gate opened. We parked and went it only to be informed that we were at the wrong Jerez horse performance! There are two places that give performances and we’d gotten them mixed up. She gave us initial directions and told us to stop in town and ask again – not very comforting. Off we went into downtown Jerez. We found our way to the “centro” and I picked a random hotel for an inquiry. The woman was extremely helpful – she gave us a map and drew directions to the riding school. We walked in 15 minutes late to our reserved seats. Whew!


I’m glad we made it because the performance was lovely. We can add equestrian art to our previous list of Spanish art. The horses were Andulusians and mostly white and dappled grey. They literally danced. We were amazed, first that horses can be trained to do moves that are not natural for them, amazed that they do those moves precisely when requested and, mostly, amazed at the beauty and elegance of the animals. Standing still they would have been a work of art. It was a beautiful performance in a lovely setting, and worth every minute of the drama to get there. Unfortunately, they don’t allow photos. Mike snapped one before the guard informed us!




One other little tidbit to add from our stay at Arcos. Yesterday I went for my early (VERY early by Spain standards) morning walk through town. Arcos is built on a hill with the oldest part at the top. The town spills over on two sides. We’re on one side and I walked up and over the top to the other side. From the top, I could see another church in a plaza so that became my destination. When I arrived in the plaza, I noticed that there was something amiss at the top of the church. There were the typical three bells and an iron cross but there was also a big, awkward lump next to the cross. It was a huge bird’s nest. And the bird family was all in the nest! What a treat. There were babies in the nest who would periodically raise a head to be fed. Of course, I didn’t have the camera so I went back this morning. One bird was there today. I love that no one minds that there’s a bird nest on top of their church.

Spain has overwhelmed us with the muchness that it has to offer. We’re thankful and we’re tired. We were used to exploring Cotignac and France at a leisurely pace with the knowledge that we had plenty of time. Here in Spain, with two weeks to see the sights, vacationing has become hard work! We took a break this afternoon before we leave for Sevilla tomorrow, and we’ll probably take another break from our vacation there, too.

By the way – thanks to all the commenters! It’s fun to pull up the blog and find a comment or two. Keep it up!