Part V: Cordoba

The bus ride to Cordoba was beautiful: a patchwork of farms and little white houses spread over rolling hills. When we arrived, we hiked over directly to the Juderia, the historic Jewish quarter and probably the most atmospheric part of the city. The winding cobbled streets were oddly quiet in the warm sunlight of the early evening, the silence interrupted only by the occasional noise of a moped or a barking dog. The whitewashed houses were accented with yellow ochre or mulled crimson trim, and with neat wrought-iron balconies alive with colorful blooms. Our hotel, the "Bagdad Backpackers Hostel" was found in one such building on a side street in the Juderia -- a courtyard home in the Moroccan style with a fountain in the center, tiling, and little blue flowerpots with equally blue flowers hung all over the walls. We wandered just a block or so from the hostel to one of the old walls of the city, then followed the wall to a statue of Maimonides, who was from Cordoba (as were both Seneca and Averroes), and then into a quiet courtyard surrounded by artisans' workshops. Just a few blocks away, almost visible from our hostel, was the Mezquita, for which Cordoba is most famous (more on that later).

Even in the middle of summer, the square around the Mezquita was not awash in tourists. While there is a church-turned-convention center and a city monument sharing the square, the Mezquita looms over them. A bridge dating back to Roman times (thus called the Puente Romano) stretches from the square to the Tower of Calahorra on the other bank of the River Guadalquivir. We watched the sunset from the bridge, then delved back into the streets of the Juderia, settling for dinner on a Lonely Planet-recommended tapas restaurant that proved to be one of our best meals.


The next morning, we decided to hit the Mezquita early, before the crowds. The exterior, an amalgam of Islamic arches and portraits of Christian saints, is only a hint at what lies within. One enters through a traditional Andalucian garden (like that of the Badia palace in Marrakech) called Patio de los Naranjos -- an oasis of orange trees and trickling fountains. From there, we entered the mosque-cathedral itself. The first thing on the site was the Visigothic church of St. Vincent, built in 600 AD. The Muslim caliph Abd ar-Rahman I scrapped St. Vincent's and in 785 began the construction of an enormous mosque. It was expanded and improved over the second several centuries until Ferdinand of Castile captured Cordoba in 1236 and transformed the mosque into a Catholic cathedral. Today, the pamphlets (produced by the Catholic church), fiercely assert that the Mezquita is a church and NOT a mosque -- and indeed there are daily services in the Renaissance-era main chapel. But the Islamic structure is by no means hidden. The building is clearly shaped for Islamic, not Christian prayer: a rectangle with no clear center (the chapel seems to float). It is a sea of jasper, onyx, marble, and granite columns supporting countless red and white striped arches. Semi-circular and mostly pretty simple stained glass windows adorn some corners of the vast structure, with eye-poppingly ornate side chapels and a meticulously carved wooden choir. Several of the chapels have altars tiled in Islamic blues and greens. A scalloped archway leads to the mihrab, which would have been the focal point during the Mezquita's mosque days. The exterior, and the two recesses to either side, glitter with mosaicked Arabic calligraphy and floral patterns. The style is very Byzantine, and in fact many mosaicists were imported from Byzantium to complete the project (they were Christian as it happens). There was also a small exhibit in one area that displayed graffiti, both Arabic and Spanish, left throughout the ages on the pillars. And in another spot, the floor had been cut away to reveal black and white floor mosaics from the original Visigothic church. The cathedral elements were self-consciously extravagant, seeking to assert their superiority over their predecessor, but balanced by the simpler but very picturesque red and white arches that seemed to radiate outward forever. Perhaps neither the mosque nor the cathedral would have been unique on its own, but combined and intertwined, the Mezquita was unlike anything I've seen.

Nearby, and our next stop, was the Palace of the Christian Kings. A palace of some sort has been there since the Roman era, and in fact a section of one of the courtyards had been excavated so that foundations were visible. But most of what you can visit today dates from around 1328 (King Alphonso XI). Most of the stone corridors or nearly empty, but there are wall-sized mosaics in one chamber, baths in another area, and -- the highlight -- a tower. Access was blocked (but who pays attention to those things!) and from the top we could see out to the Mezquita and all across Cordoba, the extensive palace gardens to one side and palms sprouting up between centuries-old buildings to the other. After descending, we explored the gardens, which reminded me of those in Kenneth Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing... rows of perfectly pruned cypresses lining long pools, accented with fuchsia roses and perhaps a statue thrown in for good measure.

We then attempted to visit the Posada del Potro, in the quiet plaza of the same name. The inn briefly played host to Cervantes, who refers to it in Don Quixote. Sadly, it was closed for renovations and we ended up eating a relaxing meal at the plaza instead.

We then departed by train for Seville.


Shots from the Mezquita --






Chilling with Maimonides


Typical building in the Juderia