Toledo had been one hundred and eight degrees. The yellow ochre walls of the city stared back at us, knowingly brittle. Cordoba felt much lighter in comparison with its’ white roofs and green Guadaquival river snaking through the city. The echo of Ricardo Montalban’s voice in my head repeating the name of the city, incorectly, despite all attempts to quiet it, as I lugged the oversized suitcase my daughters piled all into up the road to wherever our Airbnb was. Got the key from the box well enough. Beautifully situated in the old town it was tight heading up the two floors stairs with this monstrous suitcase to lug.
Dining. You’re dining in Cordoba! Senor Montablan reminds me. One place was sold out and then another and eventually I decided to try one of the spots that also has a Flamenco show. Five summers ago we visited a spot in Addis Ababa and dined in a restaurant which provided Abyssinian cuisine with a dance routine. Tonight, the little one said she had a headache so my older one and my wife and I walked around the majestic walls of the Mezquita and turned up and into the place which seated us by the wall. The late show was about to begin. The guitarist, a male singer, a portly dancer and a middle-aged woman took their seats as we finished our order. I have been reading about the world of flamenco in the book “Duende” by Jason Peterson and I avidly projected the books characterizations on to this quartet. The dancer with the belly in the red shirt began the dance and soon he was bathed in sweat, head cocked back like a rooster. I believed him and knew I could never wear those shoes.
I’ve cancelled most of my regular calls, of which there are many, for the next few weeks. In one or two cases I decided to maintain them and this morning I thought I’d take a walk around, pre buy our tickets or the Mezquita and come back home ready to journey out. An Uber conference call I had to dial in and then whenever I muted it would not unmute. Walking past church and gurgling fountains I kept muting and rediscovering I could not be heard. The remedy was to keep dialing back in over and over again. Certainly one of the most rational historic sites so far, there is an easy, automated kiosk from which to buy one’s Mezquita tickets and no one the call needed to know.
I thought to find a café to sit at and take this call with some morning fuel to set things straight, but I seemed to arrive at place after place just as the last seat was taken. The call still had ten or more minutes to go by the time I returned to our Airbnb, I saw a woman with cleaning gear arriving at the same puerta. I told her we’d be just a minute and, muting again, I went upstairs to get everyone up and packed in short order. Harried, and unclear if it was cool to leave luggage in the hall, while we toured about: what if the next people arrived and expected keys or if we left them, what if they took them and weren’t here when we returned? We decided to schlepp everything back down to the car first and then return at least thirty-minutes late for the ticket time’s I’d purchased.
Serene and refreshing to consider this mosque after so many churches. Perhaps as a result of their needing to assert themselves so strongly, Spanish churches have such heavy, anchored feel to them. The Islamic architecture by comparison was light and contemplative and we walked back and forth through the archways considering the patterns in the ceiling. The Alcazar was closed for anyone without tickets. My little one had been keen on a horse and buggy so I ended up getting one from Manuel who promised me he’d be happy to drop us off at the Flamenco Museum but instead returned us precisely to where we’d left from. We made fun of him for the next day or so. The Flamenco Museum was closed when we got there. Thanks Manny. We had a so-so lunch and left for the garage and our onward journey to Seville. The ticket machine in the garage wouldn’t take my card or my cash and people started beeping at me. The guy in the spot wasn’t much help but eventually I got the door to rise and left, driving onward to whatever it was Seville would reveal.
Wednesday, 8/18/21
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