Cordoba: A b-e-a-utiful city

Bright and early, yet again, we met to travel to our next city. I had bought some oranges that I threw around to help rejuvenate our ragged looking bunch. The Superbowl had kept most of the group up until a few hours before our departure....and a few people just decided to stay awake until we got on the train.

We left the hotel a few minutes later than planned because a few stragglers had yet to come down. Since we were on a tight schedule we left them, knowing they would be able to catch up. Thankfully, once we got to the train station it wasn't long before the tardy pair joined us.

I love train rides. When I was in sixth grade I learned how to play Gin Rummy on the TGV (fastest train in Europe) as we rode through the French countryside. In eight grade I debated religion and bounded over Sister Hazel with my Girl Scout troop as we rode to Savannah to memorialize the founder of our sisterhood. This past summer I watch surfers crash into the waves and beach bums line up next to the RV's as I traveled up the California coastline to visit my Aunt Patty and the rest of the family. This ride proved to be no exception as we pulled out of the station and my companions passed out. I sat day-dreaming, listening to Spanish flamenco music on the cheap, complimentary headphones provided by the stewardess. I pulled out my sketchbook and decided to do some observatory sketching of the interesting people sitting around me. I decided to try and capture a guy sitting a few rows ahead of me, bobbing his head to his Ipod. He was my chosen victim, since sometimes I maim people when I try to draw them. I spent the rest of the trip sketching away, glancing at my target. Into the ride he noticed I was drawing him and gave his approval when I showed him my progress. The finished product looked pretty good.

Arriving in Cordoba, life was looking up. It was warmer, everyone had taken a nice nap on the train, and the city looked beautiful. We hailed cabs to our hotel, which was located right next to the Mosque. When we got out of our caravan of taxis we were immediately surrounded by Gypsies who tried to force rosemary into our hands and tell our fortunes. Supposedly we're all going to have long lives, good health and find our true love. Quaint. I told them no thank you because I wasn't about to tip someone trying to tell me the creases in my hand will unveil the dark mysteries of my future.

Our hotel lobby

We got into our hotel and were stunned. It was beautiful. Christy did a fabulous job booking accommodations so far. It was an Ottoman structure converted into hotel rooms. The lobby was ornate and lead to an open aired, picturesque courtyard. We stuck all our bags into a room since our rooms weren't ready yet, and set off to explore the area before our meeting time. The Mosque was ringed by tons of little touristy shops and a cubby-hole restaurants. Our hunger got the better of us and we stopped into a reasonably priced restaurant only to find another part of our group had decided the same. Reunited, our group took over the sun-filled courtyard and enjoyed a good lunch before setting off to do some shopping. I got a beautiful cross pendant with Islamic patterning. I love my crosses :)

Interior Courtyard Wall of the Mosque

Our fearless leaders met us to sketch inside the Mosque/Cathedral. What's interesting with many of the religious and iconic structures of Southern Spain is that they usually start as Islamic structures and then are forced converted into Catholic Cathedrals. The Mosque of Cordoba has a beautiful, ornate Islamic detailing and a cathedral plan stuck in the middle of it, reminiscent of its transformation. I loved the walled courtyard with its gridded orange trees. The interior of the actual Mosque was beautiful as well, but after over an hour of sketching, my hands began to numb from the cold.

The interior of the Mosque

Standing under the orange trees in the courtyard

I had asked a shopkeeper where a supermarket was earlier in the day. After finishing up some sketching and checking into my room, I set off with Christy to pick up some provisions. We walked into the center of the town and soaked in the windy, old world streets lined with shops and quaint cafes. I thought that before I'd ever retire to Florida, I would definetely look into Cordoba. The road widened to a central square with a fountain and trees. One of the roads that lead off the square to my right dipped downhill. As the houses on steep street disappeared from view the river became visible. It's a reoccurring theme on my adventures, but it was beautiful.

We found our Super Dia (a chain grocery store, much like a Giant or Food Lion) and grabbed the necessary items. On the way home from the store we stopped in to admire some artisan jewelry that was out of my price range.

On a mission to find an appropriate gift for her beau as well as her new niece and soon-to-be Goddaughter, Christy and I ducked in and out of some smaller stores near our hotel. After some brainstorming we decided that another city would be more appropriate for her beau, and Maria would look darling with a charm bracelet. Unfortunately, we were unsuccesful in finding something appropriate for her niece, but Christy did walk away with a unique Mallorca pearl necklace.

A group of us decided to take a run in the city, but since I hadn't brought my knee brace I didn't know how long I'd last on the oddly paved roads. We ran through the old part of the city and across an ancient Roman bridge currently under reconstruction. Reaching the other side of the city we decided to test out the boarded river walk in hopes in being nicer to our knees. As we ran along the river I took in the old city along the opposite riverbank. My running companions ran along to the beats blaring through the Ipods, but I've always preferred to be aware of my surroundings. Ironic because as I call out to my friends to alert them that the walk was ending, I trip on a raised board and gracefully skid across the boardwalk. Laughing at my never ending finesse, I brush myself off and shrug off my throbbing palms. Doster tries to comfort my embarrassment by sincerely telling me I looked graceful. He tries to be such a nice guy.

We continued our run past canoodling couples and historic landmarks into the newer part of Cordoba. Looping around to start our return trip, we are confronted with the sunsetting over the river. Doster opens his arms as if he wants to hug the scene unfolding before him. I agreed entirely with his sentiment. After crossing the bridge back I decided to cut my part of the run short since the cobblestoned parts of the city were not compatible with my joints. I trudged back to the hotel and right before reaching the entrance, was joined by the rest of the runners.

I was so grateful to climb into a nice hot shower before crashing into bed for a nap. I woke up when my roommate for the night, Emma, came in from dinner. I quick threw some clothes on and knocked on Christy's door so we could eat our dinner consisting of some items we had picked up at the grocery store earlier. She greeted me in a state that lead me to assume she had also just gotten up from a good nap. I went down to the front desk to procure a bottle open so that maybe I'd finally be able to enjoy the red wine I had picked up Madrid. Again, a wine bottle opener alluded me, so we settled for orange juice.

We were in a rush because we only had a few minutes before we needed to join the rest of the group in the lobby for the highlight of the day- Arab Baths. We hadn't received confirmation on our reservation until that afternoon because the Baths had recently been under construction and we didn't know if they were even open.

The Baths were just around the corner and we anxiously waited in a side area inside the building. Christy explained how the baths operated. We had about 2 hours to enjoy hot, warm, and cold baths, as well as a steam room. Each of us also would get a 15 minute massage in order of the plastic numbers we pulled. I was in the second batch to receive massages because I pulled #7 and they had four tables set up. I was really excited because massage is a guilty pleasure of mine and I was a little sore from "gracefully" falling into the boardwalk earlier.

Typical Arab Bath Structure:

1. Bath Entrance
2. Cool Water Room - pool of water with an approximate temperature of 16 degrees Celsius
3. Temperate Water Room - large pool of water approximately 36 degrees Celsius
4. Massage Room
5. Hot Water Room - Smaller pools of water approximately 40 degrees Celsius
   

Traditionally, Islamic bath houses admitted men only and represented a spiritual, as well as physical cleanliness. Interestingly, hammans, the Arabic word for a bath house, also were places of equality. As soon as a man entered, it didn't matter if he was a lord or a servant, he was an equal with the man next to him. Fortunately, some of the surviving bath houses have been turned into touristy spa spots.

Waiting to start the baths!

When we were oriented with the traditions and rules of the hamman, we donned our bathing suits, rinsed off, and entered. I started in the warm bath with my classmates. We joked around in the large "bath tub" and were shushed by the masseurs setting up their tables. Some people began to trickle out of the warm pool and head over to the hot pool. I follow ready for a change in temperature- or so I think. I stick a toe in a shrink away because it's definitely hotter than I had anticipated. Someone finally told me to just get in and I gritted my teeth and let the water surround my body. It felt so good once I was entirely in. I was really beginning to enjoy the heat soothing my muscles, when we decided to migrate and try our luck with the cold pool.

I gasped when I stuck my leg in bravely. It was really cold. I had flashbacks of getting thrown into the icy river when I went white water rafting in Wyoming. Stubbornly I step in up to my thighs. Submerging my body was a whole different thing. I cowardly ducked under, admitted it was refreshing and took off to the warm bath. I sat enjoying the warmth enveloping me. By alternating temperatures and experiencing the extremes, it only heightens the temperature differences. I decided to just relax in the warm pool because it allowed me to view the massage "room" under the arched walkway bordering the pool. Lindsey and I debated who looked like the best masseuse, and I decided I wanted the guy with the pony tail half-way down his back- not because of the pony tail though.

Soon enough, it was my turn and I grabbed my towel to lay it down on the table. In Spanish, he asked if I wanted lemon, rosemary, or something I didn't quite catch. After repeating it in English, I picked rosemary. Oh it was fabulous. I think I was humming and about to drift off to sleep when I was told my time was done. The next group of anxious bathers awaited, as I lazily walked to the shower to rinse off the oil. The rest of the night was just relaxing, as we rotated in out of the pools and the steam room.

On the walk home, we were just so ready to slip into our cozy beds and let our relaxed, pampered bodies take over. Especially since it was another early morning and another day of travel.
Lindsey and Josh (in his swim trunks) walking back from the Hamman