Rhythm in Córdoba and Sevilla: Wed., Aug 28, 2013

The 8am wake up came too soon this morning. The air-conditioning was lovely, the bed was lovely, but the sights were waiting to be seen (and seen for free!)

We grabbed some cereal on our rush out the door. The Mezquita was free until 9:30, when the morning mass started, and then 8€ after, so we were happy to get there at 9am. 

The gist of the building is that it is a mosque that was converted into a cathedral, then found to be on top of ruins of a Visigoth Christian church, so it is ok for them to not convert it back into a mosque since it was originally a Christian site. 

As almost everything in Córdoba, there was a beautiful courtyard, with the orange trees in rows evoking the columns inside the Mezquita.

We had a little Rick Steves tour to guide us around the inside. First was the mosaics from the Visigoth church, visible through a glass panel in the floor. Next was the mihrab, the mosque's altar, which was facing south (not east to Mecca) because the Córdoban Muslims had their roots in Syria, where Mecca is south. 

The cathedral that is built in the center of the building, however, points east, to Jerusalem. It is a church within a mosque, with the ornate gold and paintings and plush one would expect. However, when it was built in 1523, King Charles V ordered it done, then realized (according to legend) that he had made a huge mistake. 

When the Muslims had built the mosque, they had done so using bits and pieces from their conquerees buildings, scraping off faces so that "Christian" turned "art" and it was acceptable to re-use. 

Around the walls of the Mezquita are galleries which I think are of patrons of the church - probably for family tombs? There are more tombs on the floor and a final royal chapel with tombs for kings that is closed to the public (but you can see the ceiling from the mosque and it is pretty sweet).

With that, it was 9:20, and the ushers were herding out the mere tourists to clear the way for the parishioners. When we got outside, we got to hear the 9:30 bells for Mass in what used to be the minaret and call to prayer. 

Next was the fortress, the Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos - the castle of the Christian monarchs. Rick Steves wasn't a huge fan, but I enjoyed the ornamental gardens, and who doesn't like a good climb to the top of a tower? It was built along old Roman walls and used for the Inquisition, but doesn't have much more interesting history besides that. 

We were near where there were stables and a patio "museum", but both didn't open until 11 and 10:30, respectively, and it was only 10:15. So we went to the Jewish quarter. 

Along the way to the synagogue, one of three still standing in Spain and the only one in Córdoba, we wandered into the artisan market. I got myself a silver ring as an early birthday present. Isn't having a job and traveling grand?

The synagogue was a small building. It had been used as a "hospital for hydrophiles" (I first read it at homophobes, then as hydrophobes... I'm still not sure what the information panel meant). Plastered over, the Arabic-influenced decorations of passages from the Torah remained until they were discovered after the persecution of Jews had passed. 

Our check-out at the hostel was at noon, so we headed back for some bread and jam (and olive oil - it's the new butter) and fresh squeezed orange juice. And a shower - my hair looked mad greasy. 

We were back out and wandering the Jewish Quarter before noon, probably. The temperate day was waning, giving way to temperatures of 95 degrees in the shade. We lunched (at a completely unacceptable Spanish time of noon) on oxtail and salmorejo - a creamier gazpacho. 

We went back to the stables, where we saw clips of a performance and a horse being trained to rear.

We went back to the patio "museum", which was actually just a commercialized patio, potentially with a restaurant we got a brochure for on the way in? All you really need to know is that there was a terrier named Elvis with mysterious eyes that loved us. (Ask Rosie for that picture.)

Then it was to the postcard-perfect flower street (disappointing) and the group-picture-perfect "tiny street" that is only two shoulder-widths wide. 

(We had done a bit of shopping in the awakened Jewish Quarter after lunch - much different than 10am this morning!)

The Roman bridge was fun to bike across last night, so we decided doing it on foot during the hottest part of the day would be just as nice! (Note the sarcasm.)

Regardless, it was on our list, so we checked it off with sweat dripping from our brows. And some pretty scenery too, I guess. 

After that, I was ready to call it time for a siesta (with a scoop of ice cream to get me to the hostel). Jose, from the hostel, had kindly offered to keep our bags and let us use the common areas during the day as well, so Rosie did some napping, blogging, and networking on the roof while I did some reading, napping, and blogging on a bean bag in the common room.

Post-siesta, Rosie wanted her share of sweet, cold things, so she got medium frozen yogurt while I got the "second half" of my ice cream from earlier. If it was just a continuation, then we don't have to count my two scoops in four hours.

Walking to the train station was a breeze, so we actually had to wait on the platform for ten minutes before it came. What wasted time!

Manuel, our AirBnB host from Sevilla, met us at the train station and walked us to our complete apartment that we had rented. It's a cute studio that's in a bit of a alley, but is big and comfortable and has air conditioning. All those, and the fact that our bags are heavy, were reasons to open a bottle of wine we bought (a young crianza from Campo Viejo but under a different label).

Manuel had given us directions to a flamenco performance, and Rick Steves had offered a suggestion for a tapas place on the way. We had stuffed artichoke (it, and the two accompanying slices of pepper, were deep-fried) and seafood meatballs (too salty). Service wasn't as good as this afternoon when both waiters were only watching us (as their only customers) and the speed reflected that. Rosie had a cup of gazpacho and I had a "cervesa", my first of the trip. It's light, more taste than most light beers though.

Maybe it was the beer that caused me to knock over the water-filled ashtray all over the table and the menus. Rosie is convinced I'm clumsy. I'm convinced that everyone is clumsy. 

We thought we had time for one more tapa at a different place, but by the time the check came around, it was 8:50 and the performance started at 9. So we headed along a street without storefronts until we found a bar through one of the large wooden doors. 

Students were playing flamenco guitar and piano as we walked in, so we weren't quite sure if that we where the performance was. A group (that looked like they had a much better idea of what was going on than us and the guy who wandered in with us) moved to a second, tented room which was "beer garden-like," with a low stage up front that we missed until we asked the bartender. 

We sipped at our pitcher of sangria, played some rummy, and waited for the performance to start.

The three musicians came in and sat down, starting slow - first the guitar, then the soft, rhythmic clapping, then the thrilling voice of the male singer. Then, a few songs in, the dancer stood up. 

Everyone (the room full of tourists) perked  up at that. She moved her arms and body with great precision and started using her feet as instruments too.

Rosie, a tap dancer by training, was focused on her feet the whole show. The different between tap and flamenco, she told me on the way home, after the intermission (with more rummy) and a second performance, is that the dancer uses her heels more than her toes.