Under the Bridge (Córdoba - Madrid)

We are nearing the end, my dear reader, and I fear we are starting to slow down. This post covers our last full day in Córdoba and the dreaded transit day to Madrid. It was time to go domestic again. We needed a laundromat before we ticked off a few other tourist spots in the afternoon.

The laundromat saw us leave the old town and walk into a nearby suburb. It was around a 20 minute walk. The laundromat was relatively new and everything functioned the way it was supposed to, even if some of the online reviews were inaccurate. The machines were clean, although the dryer shortchanged us on time. Anyway, job done we returned to the hotel and scoped out an afternoon walk and possible venues for dinner.

The statue between the bridge and Alcázar.

Down through the old town to the Roman Bridge we strolled. As it turned out, the bridge was very close to the Alcázar and where we commenced yesterday's walking tour. It is a very substantial piece of stone work and is wide enough to drive a car across. This clearly is not permitted and the gate at the other end would provide a serious impediment.

The gate.

The bridge is an obvious tourist attraction and on this hot, sunny day wasn't too crowded. It provided an excellent view of the waterwheel that provided water to the old palace. The river is quite wide but very shallow and carp could be seen digging in the mud under the bridge creating a silt trail. Under the Bridge is today's title from the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

A substantial piece of architecture.

It was beer time and we walked the streets of old town back up towards the square looking for a suitable table, ie. one not near any smokers. We found one and were enjoying the early afternoon people watching when a truck carrying gas cylinders rounded the corner and the cage on the back of the truck caught the edge of one umbrella. The earth didn't quite move for me but it caused a moving and a shaking among the umbrellas and a domino effect. It was close to collapse, like the Liberal Party in Australia.

The Mosque-Cathedral in the distance.

The crowds continued moving up and down the street. people wandered past looking forlorn, waiting for a vacant table. We, happy to give our table away, waited for 'la cuenta'. Nothing happens quickly in Spain. Eventually we waved one couple over to our table and they sat with us while we finalised payment. They were very grateful.

The Roman ruins.

From there we set out for the site of the Roman ruins. Actually that could mean any part of the old town, but it referred to a specific site. It appears untouched since its discovery and partial repatriation. It was not particularly interesting. I mean, it's like churches and Cathedrals, how many can you see and maintain genuine interest? Oh, look, Roman ruins ... some columns, partial walls and a statue. Yep, that about sums it up.

It's no David.

That night we went back to the old town to a 'traditional' Italian restaurant. Except it wasn't in Italy and was being run by Spanish people. Aside from that ... anyway, the food was good and it was a nice alternative to tapas.

The square at night.

Prior to bed, we researched the entry to the carpark at out hotel in Madrid. Suitably armed, we retired for the evening.

Our street to freedom.

We departed the hotel the next morning, a vastly easier exercise than our arrival had been. The only stop on the road to Madrid was for petrol. Otherwise it was an uneventful journey. A transit day without issue. Yeah, nah.

Despite Madrid's tunnels and my satellite navigation system spinning out until it could locate us again, we found our destination with relative ease... until I attempted to turn into the car park that Google had identified. It was the drive way right next to the hotel door which Google had informed us was the correct entry. I drove the car up over the footpath toward the ramp and a man emerged from a booth waving his arms and shaking his head. Ok, this is not the way, I gathered. However, he was on his mobile and was unwilling to put it down or finish his call to provide any further directions other than his windmilling arms. Spain!

We waited. Jayne wanted to go next door to the hotel. I was unwilling for her to do this in case the balding, overweight old guy decided he might earn his salary and provide some assistance. We waited. He emerged partially form his booth and provided the expectation that he would would do something, a bit like Andrew Hastie, and then retreated to his booth to count numbers or continue on his phone.

Eventually I relented and Jayne went into to the hotel and came back with a map to show the correct car park entrance. Hastie was still discussing his next move behind closed doors. I reversed back out onto the street and joined the heavy traffic to drive to the corresponding street on the other side of the hotel.

The written instruction was to drive down the ramp and, before the boom gate, there was a button on the wall. Push the button and the door would open and then there were specific instructions on where to park. After enduring the abuse of a taxi driver, not an unusual occurrence in Madrid, I turned the car onto the ramp and down we went. There was nothing on the wall near the boom gate so I pushed the help button. And someone came to help! It was a miracle.

Except he did the same arm gestures. Back up the ramp he was pointing, except there was a car behind me. He sent him back as well, allowing me to reverse half way up the ramp to an insignificant grey box on the wall. There was no signage. He pointed at the box and then to a door in the wall. He rang the bell for me and the side door opened. Still no signage anywhere until you drive in through the door and see the Hotel Indigo sign and an arrow.

I'm still suffering trauma from my attempt to park the car so I shan't recount it in any detail, dear reader. Suffice to say that it was necessary to fold in the side mirrors to park the car in the slimline spaces available. I am yet to master the use of reversing cameras in cars. Despite our best research efforts the day before, it was not a fun afternoon, albeit a suitable end to a transit day.

At the hotel check-in a voice says, "An Australian accent". Of course we started chatting. "I run a tour company," he says. "I've already booked a walking tour for tomorrow," I replied. "Mine is better," he says, handing me a card. "But I'm booked with you," say I. After a few, no way exclamations, I produced my booking. In one of those quirky moments, the guy who owns the company and is conducting the walk was in the hotel spruiking his business and we run into him. Tio Tours. If you're in Madrid, check him out.

After the usual unpacking and calm down, we headed to the roof top bar for a drink, or two. Transit days really are stressful. And then, because we didn't feel like engaging with the world on a Madrid scale, we dined at the restaurant in the hotel.

The TV is massive.

El Telón, the restaurant, offers a reasonable range of meals, genuine Spanish and fusion food to keep tourists happy. The man who was running the show was absolutely delightful and super helpful. He tempered our order when we weren't sure how many tapas dishes to select. He suggested the wine and at the end of the meal produced some cheese and candied walnuts to nibble on as we finished our wine. Classy.

Yes, that is a spa bath in the corner of the room.

Then it was back to our room. Well, suite. I decided when I was planning everything that by the time we reached Madrid, we wold want some space to spread out and relax. Also we're here for five nights, so there will be times when we don't do much during the day and will want the extra room.

Tomorrow we're off on our walking tour with Nick from Tio Tours.

Until then.

Peace Train (Córdoba)

Despite our room overlooking one of the narrow limestones streets that cause car tyres to screech unmercifully, our sleep was undisturbed, dear reader. The reason? Two sets of double glazed french doors and wooden shutters. That said, it is taking some adjusting to the sun rise being around 8:30am. 

Today breakfast would have to wait because we are joining a 4 hour walking tour. Our scheduled meeting point was changed at the last minute which was curious because the reason for the change was renovation work on the Alcázar de los Reyos Cristianos and that had been underway for years. Well, maybe not years, but it is Spain, so it is possible.

The outside of the Alcázar.

The walls of the Alcázar are out of bounds but the gardens are open for inspection. Despite summer being long gone the gardens still looked magnificent and there were men working, shaping the pencil pines. There were still some flowers in bloom and the whole area is neat and orderly.

WHS anyone?

The fountains, like many we have seen across Spain, were dormant, perhaps due to the dry conditions. Water plays a significant part in the functioning of the garden as would be expected because it is of Moorish design. Back in the day there was a functioning water wheel on the nearby river that supplied the Alcázar. Water is used to cool the area, water the plants and create a pleasant soundscape.

One of the ponds looking toward the fortress.

There were two large ponds that contained carp swimming around aimlessly. They were European carp so were fairly colourless in comparison to Koi. Except for the golden carp who miraculously appeared as we were leaving.  A sign of good luck said our tour guide.

We left the formal gardens and walked around the back of the Alcázar walls. We stopped to examine a 20 million year old fossil of a shell. Actually, from my perspective, it turned out to be a shell in some of the conglomerate rock. It may be old, but it is no fossil.

At the end of the wall the space now houses some Spanish horsey thing. Yep, I paid a lot of attention to the guide at this point. Around the corner we walked along another remnant wall, this one was originally built of mud and then reinforced. It is now protected by fences and reinforced by concrete in some areas. Still, it provides an insight into how they could quickly erect a barrier to keep the hordes out.

The mud wall.

Next stop were the Arabian baths. Sadly they are not in operation. The system looks similar to how the Romans constructed their bathhouses. This one had separate change rooms and toilet facilities for men and women. The process is akin to the current western craze of ice baths. Basically you strip and wash then hit the cold water then get oiled and scrubbed and washed again before you get to relax in warm baths. Seems like too much hard work for me although it was attached to religious practices.

Rather ornate for a bath house.

Floor mosaic.

From the baths, we picked up another group of people. Up until this time I was OK with our group. We had commenced with 12, which expanded to 16 when one family couldn't find the new meeting point. Still manageable, we weren't blocking the street or walking aimlessly into other pedestrians, nor were there any tour guide chasers, you know, the ones who have to be out front. We now numbered 30 with the additions and some of them, well, they thought the rest of us were invisible and this was their private tour.

The Mosque-Cathedral tower.

The main event in Córdoba is the Cathedral-Mosque or Mosque-Cathedral depending on your religious bias. To be fair it is a Cathedral and it is built on a partially deconstructed Mosque. Short story, the Emperor said no to the demolition of the Mosque and the architects had to incorporate the existing columns and arches. If you want to read more click here. Now I've see a few Cathedrals in my time, dear reader, and I've never come across anything quite like this. And not just because of the Mosque factor.

Columns and arches everywhere.

It is huge and cavernous inside and there are arches everywhere you look. It's like a forest of pillars. Then in the centre the roof soars into the typical domed structure of a Cathedral of that period with a main altar, choir area and organ. 

More typical of a Cathedral.

The altar.

Leading to this space are a series of scenes from the bible, perhaps approximating the stations of the cross. They are massive processional statues and their interpretation of the bible must leave fundamentalists even more disturbed than they already are. Many are decorated with fresh flowers, fields of fresh flowers.

Red carnations.

There is a garden attached to the Cathedral grounds with the usual running water as originally designed by the Islamic Moors. It is a fascinating crossroads and battleground of religion. And with that Cat Stevens, or Yusuf as he is now known, an Islamic convert from Christianity provides today's title Peace Train.

From there we moved through the Jewish quarter where it was suggested that the earliest Jewish history of Córdoba was fabricated because there is no evidence to substantiate the claims. Care factor? The Synagogue was actually built by Muslims tradies so some of its identifying features are definitely Islamic. It has actually survived since superstition has grown around any attempt to demolish it coinciding with various plagues - rabies, bubonic etc.

A courtyard in the Jewish Quarter.

We also passed through the university grounds to see how some of the historic buildings have been repurposed, from schools to plague hospitals to leprosariums and back to educational institutions.

A statue at the University.

We walked back to the main square to have a beer and some food before going back to the hotel to rest our weary feet.

Until tomorrow.

Ice Ice Baby (Seville - Carmona - Écija -Córdoba)

And sadly, dear reader, that brings an end to our time in Seville. It's interesting how your arrival can set the tone for the coming days. The drive in was relatively easy, there was a car spot out the front of the hotel, the car park (expensive) but the spaces were large and we liked Seville from the first instant. 

After breakfast, we were driving to Córdoba via two smaller towns, Carmona and Écija. There was no real reason to stop at either town except to break up the trip. Carmona was about a 30 minute drive from Seville and we found a street parking spot relatively easily. 

The entrance to the Carmona old town.

Like so many of the other towns, it had an old town area protected by walls or a fortress dating back to Roman times. It also had many churches, curiously, none of which was open to the public. As we walked towards the high walls, we observed two men in fluro vests, leaning up against cars that were parked right next to old town. Jayne had read about them prior to our visit. The car parking is actually free but the town apparently ratifies these two charging visitors €1. If they pay up, fine, if they don't, it appears nothing happens to your car but we were happy to walk for 5 minutes to avoid the entrepreneurs.

Another church.

We wandered the narrow streets, alerted to approaching cars by the squeal of rubber on limestone. It was a public holiday today, in lieu of yesterday and the main square was beginning to fill up with locals enjoying their day off work.

The walls above a café.

As we left to go back to our car, I attempted to take some final photos of yet another church across the main intersection, outside the walled old town. It took a good 10 minutes to take one shot free of traffic as every car within miles of Carmona seemed to converge at this roundabout. It was actually busier than the traffic in Seville as we departed the city earlier in the morning.

Worth the wait.

The next stop, Écija, was about 45 minutes drive. Somewhere along the A4 we could see a brilliant light that seemed to get brighter as we came closer. The light was so intense you could see dust particles and the rays of light themselves. Apparently it is a solar tower and is able to generate sufficient electricity to power all of Seville's homes. Sorry there are no pictures, but if you are interested you can read more about it here.

The palace wall in Écija.

Écija is known as the town of towers and that comes as no surprise as you drive down toward the town from the A4. Once again street parking was simple and we programmed the map to set off for the palace in the old town.

One of the many towers.

The old town was like every other, narrow limestone roads, narrow footpaths (if they existed), churches and cafés. It was even quieter here than Carmona and all the action seemed to be focussed on the new town. We walked around and snapped a few photos, marvelled at all the churches with doors firmly closed, found a palacio with decorative walls and then made a bee-line back to the car. Well, as much as that was possible.

A distant tower.

Back in the car, we put the hotel address into Apple maps, my preference because it provides more detail as you drive. Arriving in Córdoba was quite straight forward and I followed the instructions until I was taken off piste into the old town and told we had to park and walk the remainder of the distance to the hotel. We knew this was not correct.

We reprogrammed the address and were taken god knows where, down tiny little streets that couldn't fit a car and a pedestrian. "You have arrived," came the announcement, but clearly we hadn't. No hotel in sight. Another fruitless drive and eventually we found somewhere to pull over and swapped maps to Google. Off we went again.

At this point I was unsure if we'd travelled these same streets but I was hellbent on following Jayne's instructions as I tried to avoid pedestrians, motorbikes and cars. Turn right came the instruction, but I was not able to comply which meant being rerouted and driving away from what possibly could have been our hotel.

As we neared the missed turn for the second time, we had been driving around Córdoba for almost 30 minutes. We screeched down one last street and saw the name of the hotel. Jayne went inside to enquire about parking. We had arrived, park here said the man.

The drive way to our hotel.

I can't begin to articulate the stress I feel driving a car on the wrong side of the road, down streets too narrow for cars, with signage in a language I do not read, all the while having other road users behind me and pedestrians walking down the road centre. I was glad to be out of the car and for it to be valet parked. €32 a day parking is extortion but there was no way that car was coming out until it was time to leave Córdoba. All exploration would be done on foot.

Once divested of the car, we proceeded inside the hotel to check in whilst sipping a glass  of welcome cava. The hotel is boutique, formally a private palacio, with amenities and rooms going off in multiple directions. We were given a tour of the place which includes Roman ruins, visible underneath the floor of the breakfast restaurant. This was followed by the spa and sauna suite, after which we walked through the first building out through gardens, complete with a pool and outdoor bar area, into a separate 3 storey building and up to our room on the first floor. All very grand first impressions.

The lounge area.

After the ritual unpack, we headed off with map in hand to check out our rendezvous point for the next day's organised tour. The reconnoître took us through the main square and down a main street towards the river and the Alcazar that would be our first tour focus tomorrow. Once we knew where we were going, we headed back for a beer in the main square to relax, do some people watching and get the feel of our penultimate destination.

As we sat, taking in the sights, several Spanish matrons came through the establishment's tables and chairs and pushed past us, apparently not impressed that we were in their way. They settled at a table not far from us and continued to glare at us until we departed to return to the hotel. We have no idea what the problem was nor how we managed to cause offence when there were many other patrons sitting just like we were. 

The main plaza.

Anyway, back at the hotel it was time for dinner in the open air courtyard out the front of reception. The evening was very pleasant and we were one of the first groups to arrive. By the time we finished our meal, every table was occupied by guests. We were greeted by the Maître d' who showed us to our table and then sent one of the waiters to take our drinks order. This is where the 5 star rating of the hotel started to come unravelled slightly.

We ordered our food and a bottle of Verdejo, the Spanish really do rule supreme with that grape. The wine arrived in an ice bucket which I told him we did not require. He wanted to argue with me. I felt the bottle temperature, it was chill, unlike our wine waiter. "No ice bucket," said I. "The ice is not too cold," he said. No, I replied. He left with in a huff with the bucket. Our wine continued to open up as it warmed a little and allowed all those hidden honey notes to come to the fore. I watched with amusement as the wine waiter fawned over other more compliant guests. He didn't come near us again. Perhaps we should have summoned him to put an ice cube in each glass.

Which finally brings us to today's title. Who would have thought I'd be using white boy rapper Vanilla Ice as an theme? Not me. Anyway, in honour of our wine waiter who clearly doesn't understand wine, let's listen to Ice Ice Baby. I couldn't make it to the end of the song and all it proved was that John Deacon could write a ripping bass line. You can draw your own conclusions about the rapper.

I am uncertain as to whether there was discussion amongst the wait staff but the young woman who served our table, needed some serious lessons in how to wait and serve a table and how to place the dishes. It is not right to lean across the guests. Nor is it ok to slap the plates down on the table. If this was a café in the plaza, I would still make a comment about the poor etiquette, but this is a five star hotel and the food was coming from the Michelin kitchen. I guess it was easy to see why both of these servers had been relegated to the garden and were not allowed inside the restaurant.

We actually had dinner reservations for inside the hotel restaurant, Arbequina for Wednesday night, but cancelled on the back of tonight's performances. The food is the same in the restaurant or the garden, but I'd had enough of the service. The only other thing to note was the soundscape to dinner in the garden. It was just inside the walls of the palace so the screeching, squealing tyres of the taxis serenaded us throughout.

Another smooth transit day is over.

Until next time.

Holiday (Seville)

Another beautiful day dawned in Seville. Eventually. Sunrise was close to 8:30am. I mean the day is half gone, dear reader. We called home to speak to the uncontactables from yesterday and then walked to our next breakfast spot, Tarta Home. It was actually closer to the hotel than yesterday's café and had quite an extensive menu. More importantly the coffee was very good. 

Capitania General.

Blood sugar and caffeine levels sorted, we made our way to the Plaza de Espana. The exterior of the Capitania General faces our hotel. There were a few more people around than expected, but, it was a public holiday - the National Day of Spain, Christopher Columbus Day, October 12, the day he died. Getting a photo without selfie-adoring blights on the landscape would prove a challenge.

Holiday, today's title is by the Bee Gees from 1967. I was going to use the Spanish National Anthem, but opted for something more poppy.

The side entrance.

We walked down the side of the building towards the plaza. Unlike last time when we were met with black uniformed rifle carrying soldiers, this time it was people in suits and formal attire. Hmmm, wedding we thought. We followed them down the street and into the building. 

Tiles everywhere.

This is a landing on the stairwell.

As we mounted the steps, the noise level was increasing as we went through the mosaic tiled foyer area with the domed ceilings; they know how to do grand architecture in Spain. Then we were out onto a wide verandah overlooking the plaza itself. All was ready for the National Day ceremony.

Not as crowded as I'd imagined.

The Plaza was packed with seated guests, fans flapping furiously under the direct sun. We stood in the shade of the verandah. The crowd below us gathered, the verandah crowd stretched its length and waxed and waned with interest. There were also spectators upstairs on the balconies above the portico. It was all quite grand and supervised by armed soldiers.

No idea who he is, but he must be important.

At the stroke of midday, the marching band, carefully secreted in the park across the road, struck up and commenced their march into the plaza. They were followed by various arms of the defence forces and support services. The special people, the besuited crowd, were melting in the sun as their fan speed reached epic proportions. It was still cool in the shade on the verandah.

The band played on and the speeches commenced, a clear signal for us to leave. Now, be fair, my Spanish is limited to ordering breakfast or beer so we wouldn't have gained much by staying. And we weren't close enough to see any of the invited guests faint, as amusing as that would have been. 

Zaragoza.

It was time for some photos on ground level. Around the semi-circular construction of the Plaza building are a number of bays that highlight each of the fifty Spanish provinces. Either end of the building has an exclamation mark in the form of a tower. All in all, a rather spectacular building. The water feature is a let down - I was expecting something you could boat on, not that it would have been allowed today. The ducks were unconcerned by the ceremonies taking place.

Impressive.

Then it was off to explore the park and see what lay beyond the limits of our map. Well, it was Christopher Columbus Day so exploring beyond the known reaches seemed the thing to do.

The first sight and sound we experienced, however, was not unknown - from the moment we arrived in Seville, the sound of clip-clopping has been the sound backdrop both day and night. For some reason best known to the locals, there is a large band of open carriage drivers who 'take tourists for a ride' around all parts of the congested old town and down the wide avenues that lead into the park. They are literally everywhere, and, like government buses back home, they travel in convoys, grouped it seems by colour of horse. 

Not only do you need to keep an eye out to avoid being run over, but you also need to keep an eye in front of you to avoid stepping in the political commentary the horses leave behind.

We decided it was better to get off the main roads to try to take in some of the serenity in the park oasis, seeking out shady arbors and water features as the Spanish afternoon sun started to ramp up. We spotted what looked like a fountain and headed towards it, only to be blocked at every turn by barricades and signs to keep out. In fact the entire water scape, complete with ponds, bridges and fountains was off limits.

The forbidden water feature.

Suddenly, we thought we were back in Paris where civil disobedience is a way of life. There were people everywhere inside the barriers: wandering, taking selfies, prancing over bridges, sitting on the benches, ignoring the signs that, I believe were pointing out some sort of avian illness. My photos were taken from the legal side of the barricades and you can't prove otherwise.

Arty shot.

We selected paths at random and ended up beyond our map, such trail blazers. Actually we were in front of the Art Museum, another rather grand building with beautiful gardens. 

The Art Museum.

Turning around we followed another path that led to a waterfall. Water, flowing water, was an important part of Moorish culture, not just for practical agricultural reasons, as it also provided a peaceful sound backdrop.

The waterfall.

The waterfall was man made and created for the sole purpose of ensuring a constant flow around the park via gravity. Very clever.

An uninspiring 'fly past'.

Our journey had taken us back towards Plaza de Espana where it appeared that festivities were wrapping up. The marching band was heading our way which created its own moments of interest as stupid tourists were unable to follow the directives of the soldiers. One woman sat on her hire bicycle and was amazed when she was told to move because she was in the middle of the street that all the band and following soldiers were going to march into. Just one look at what was coming towards you and common sense. No?

Listen to the band.

Despite her idiocy, we were up close and personal with the departing defence people and the band. One group, I don't know what arm of the forces they are, have the most stupid hat ever. You've seen Foreign Legion hats that have a flap down over the back of the neck, dear reader. Well, these hats fold upwards. Rednecks. It should be the state hat of Queensland.

The hat for rednecks.

After all that time in the sun, it was time for a beer at the hotel and a siesta before our final dinner in Seville. We even turned on the television to see what the Spanish were watching on the national holiday. It turns out, in Seville, Christopher Columbus Day coincides with the feast of Our Lady of the Pillar, Seville's patroness. The street procession of Our Lady wound its way at snail's pace through many streets and many, many, many hours of television coverage to eventually arrive at the Cathedral. 

There are many eucalypts in Spain.

We assume it arrived; we left for dinner at Barrio Cervecería Sevillana again. Another excellent tapas dinner and that brioche dessert even I get excited about.

Tomorrow is a public holiday in lieu of today and a transit day. What could go wrong?

Until next time.