So This Is My Last Post...Hopefully

I say hopefully not because the trip is over and we're heading back to the states and you're probably not terribly interested in what I'm having for dinner on our flight (grilled grass-fed beef tenderloin with Port wine sauce, potato grain, and wild mushroom medley), but because tomorrow afternoon at the Madrid airport, we have to take a COVID test before they'll let us come home. 

If we test negative, we go back on Monday, board our flight and head to New York and ultimately Denver.

If we test positive, we have to quarantine for - last time we checked - five days. During which time, you would be inundated with posts about how Joe's stomach was growling, or how the 80s called and wanted my hair back, or how many olives I can fit in my...never mind. Let's just say so many other mundane things you'd yell TMI! and never look at me again with the same appreciation for my sparkling wit and dazzling conversation skills.

I really do appreciate Delta's optimism - sending me menu choices a full five days before we board. I don't appreciate having to take a test to come home. It's not like I'd be bringing COVID with me to a virally unadulterated country; the US just topped 900,000 cases. And I certainly don't need the stress of having to take a test I can't study for! Oh, and Spain is like 87% vaccinated (vs. US at 75%). SMDH.

On to the post.

Despite all the hurdles, disruptions, challenges, and strange events, we've thoroughly enjoyed this trip. Boston seems eons ago. Berlin, the same. We've now spent so much time here, last night the owner of the local craft beer bar said, "You're almost a resident!" Truth: I kinda feel like one. If my Spanish were just a tad better, I'd really feel like one.

We were extraordinarily lucky with the weather, train schedules, museum availability, bars and restaurants being open, staying fairly healthy, and memory-gathering. We really do love this country.

And while we still haven't decided whether we could actually live here, we certainly dream we could. It's under our skin, now. And so to honor our time here...An Ode to Spain

Spain crackles like twigs catching fire, fueling the blaze

Its warm rhythms are a summer breeze kissing my shoulders

Mornings busy shopping, afternoons in siesta, and late evenings of tapas and sherry wine

Old men sitting on stools regaling each other in lightning quick spanish

A fragrant bouquet of peppers, olives, cheese, and jamon tickles my nose 

The aroma of thick, rich coffee swarms sidewalk cafes

Dazzling markets jammed with arrays of perfect fruit 

Fishmongers touting baskets of fresh squid, cod, sardines, and octopus

Soft guitar strums weave in and out of narrow shady streets

Buskers wail Flamenco arias and dance the steps born in their blood

Ancient monoliths stun us to silence, our jaws on the floor, our eyes on the ceiling

Picasso, Goya, Velázquez, Dali! Cervantes, Lorca, de la Barca, de Vega! 

Vibrant, bustling, relaxed, and quiet

Flooding my veins, inviting me to stay.

But fingers crossed, we can come home on Monday...

Hahahahahahahahaha Inhales Hahahahahahahahaha

Are you sitting down? You probably should sit down for this one.

Yesterday we had a late day. I mean, we woke up late, had a late breakfast, and a very late lunch. And about 7pm we agreed that neither of us was hungry and that we would just snack a bit and binge some Ted Lasso (which by the way, if you haven't watched...you should). 

As bingeing goes, that "okay, one more" ended about midnight, and we began our migration into the bedroom. I hit the bathroom first only to discover...the hot water heater had blown up. That's right, our fucking hot water heater was dribbling out the last drops of our civilized world. I know, right? What else could possibly happen on this crazy trip? Wait. I didn't say that out loud; the gods will take revenge. 

Anyway, I remember hearing a crack earlier in the evening, but thought it was just the house settling, or the neighbors, or the courtyard cat tipped over a pot. Turns out, it was Satan's minions popping the top of the heater right off. Right. Fucking. Off! Then I do the dumbest thing I think I have ever done. I reach back under the waterfall and begin to unplug the heater. You know that thought bubble that screams, "WHAT IN THE LITERAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US???" I did not hear that bubble. At least not until I had unplugged the unit. FYI: I also did not get shocked. 

So it's 12:15am, all my toiletries are sopping wet, as is the floor, the shelving, and now...all the towels (more laundry, ugh). I do not expect a response from my rapid fire SOS text to the property manager, but lo and behold, she replies!

She first asks if I can turn off the water (um, no), and then tells me that she will try to contact the emergency plumber and have him come out. Tonight??? Yep. I then text the owner of the VRBO with whom I've exchanged a couple of nice e-mails to let her know what's going on. SHE replies (it's true, no one goes to bed early here). She tells me that they are trying to reach the plumber and to await updates. It's now about 1:30am. Joe's a bit drowsy because he just took some European super cough medicine, and he's fading on the couch. And I'm about to call a Marriott and a cab.

About 2am I hear from the owner: due to the hour, the plumber will not come until morning. Frankly, duh.

Not much else we can really do, so we put pans and bowls under the leaking heater and go to bed. At 6am I wake up to pee and empty the bowls (that's bowls, not bowels), which are full to the brim. At 8:15 we are up (I empty the bowls again), and I text the Property Manager for some idea of when the plumber will arrive. Shock! He's coming in about 30 minutes! 

He shows up, takes one look and says it needs to be replaced... I begin thinking about how we're going to pack up all our shit and move to a hotel today because if the leaky sink took three days, this'll take a week. 

Just as Joe and I are laughing - what else can we do? - I get a text from Rosa: Buena! Que tal? So I tell her what's going on and could she maybe recommend a hotel if we need one. Now she's laughing. I then get a text from the owner - can the plumber come and replace the heater around noon? NOON??? Hell yes he can!

I don't know what promises were made. I don't know what strings were pulled. I don't know what made the wind blow our sails in the right direction, but by 2pm we had a new hot water heater. By 3pm we had hot water. Tons of it. And by 5:30 I was dressed and ready for our night on the town.

So, off we go. It's a good thing, too, because I definitely need a drink.

You Can Take The Girl Out Of Marketing...

But you can't take the marketing out of the girl. I told our tour operator and friend, Rosa, I'd write a testimonial for her. 

You know, anyone can plan a tour of Spain. You go on Google Flights and look for fares, you check booking.com and find a hotel, you go to the city Visitor Information Center, and BAM! you’re touring Spain. But if you’re like me and my husband, you want more. You want to tour, but you don’t want to be tourists. You want to be travelers; you want to be locals. 

Spain is different from any other country in Europe. They dance to a different rhythm, and from landing to take off, it’s important to adjust to that rhythm. There are myriad things to do and see, but there’s no way you can do them all (save some for your next visit). In Spain, you need time to drink in the traditions, the legends, the history, and the Agua de Valencia!

You may have a terrific tour of the Mezquita in Córdoba, but you haven’t really toured Córdoba until you sit at the Gran Bar and watch the world go by on the Plaza de las Tendillas, or share a glass of Cava overlooking the Mosque at sunset. You may spend a day tasting every sherry in Jerez, but you haven’t really tasted Jerez until you stroll through the fresh market or witness a spontaneous Flamenco performance on the Plaza del Arenal. You could get lost in the halls and gardens of the Alhambra, but a trip to Granada isn’t complete without getting lost on the back streets shopping for Fajalauza pottery. 

At Just Explore, Rosa Lara understands her elite clientele, and through the years she has provided us with the “locals” experience time and time again. Plus, her warm smile and great sense of humor always make our visit special. With her expert advice, keen eye for detail, and extensive network, she can build the perfect itinerary for you filled with plenty of guided adventures, but also enough time for you to Just Explore on your own, or take a nap!

Rosa and her team strive to meet your travel goals but they also make sure you have time to discover the country’s riches and culture for yourself. And Rosa’s personal touch adds a stress-free element to your travel. She is always checking in, monitoring feedback, and making adjustments as necessary so you can just explore.

We highly (and happily) recommend contacting Rosa and Just Explore to plan your trip to Spain. 

It sounds more like a marketing brochure, but it's all true. Shrug. So, if you ever want to go to Spain - give Rosa a call. 

We're winding down the days to home. The laundry's done, we still have a little food in the fridge we need to eat and a bottle of wine we need to drink, and our suitcases are spread open on the floor. One more museum, one more dinner reservation. Sigh.

Olive Oil & Sherry Wine

Well, it's just not a vacation until Joe gets sick. Nine out of ten trips he ends up with sinus-something that puts him down for a day or two. So, yep, we've been hanging around the house for the last two days. Not entirely a bad thing; I cooked (I made a fantastic parmesan risotto with sauteed chicken, onions, garlic, and padron peppers), we napped, watched a movie - it was kinda nice just chillin'. 

Joe needed to rest because today (Tuesday) Rosa picked us up and took us to her home town of Montilla, about 30 minutes from Cordoba. We visited an olive mill and a sherry winery - both, some of the best in Spain.

What do you know about olives? Good on Mexican food? Nice in a martini? Olive Oil is healthy? All true, but here's more: 

• Spain produces more than 57% of the world's olive oil...not Italy, not Greece, Spain. 
• How old are olive trees? Some say olive trees have been around for as many as 5,000 years. (We saw a tree today that was 100 years old.)
• How many different kinds of olives are there? The more than 800 million olive trees on earth produce no fewer than 500 different varieties. 
• How do you get black/ripe olives? They are the same as the green olives, just ripened. (Green olives are unripe.) 
• Can I eat olives right off the tree? You can, but I wouldn't recommend it. The olives that end up on your table are picked, cleaned, and brined/marinated (which ages and softens them). Olives for olive oil are picked, ground up/milled, then the oil is separated, filtered twice, and bottled. 

We drove to Juan Colin just outside Montilla for a tour of the grove and mill. And then a tasting!

This part of Andalusia looks quite a bit like Tuscany.

Here is the mill

Beautiful tasting room, but also a museum of older methods of pressing olives into oil

Nice view

Grindstone, turned by an ox or a donkey

Pressed vertically by hand

Larger conical stones (more surface area hitting the olives, turned by pulleys

They've won some awards.

We tried two varieties: the left - lighter, velvety, almost floral, and the right - intense, rich, and peppery. The blue glasses are used in olive oil competition so the judges cannot see the color or clarity of the oil - a blind taste test. You put about a teaspoon of oil in the glass, replace the lid, then cup the glass in your palm and slowly turn it to warm the oil. You tip the glass around a bit to help open up the oil. You take the lid off and inhale first - taking in all the luscious aromas. Then taste...letting the oil coat your tongue before swallowing. The darker one on the right left a long, long, long pepper trail down my throat; it was delicious.

We then sampled the oil on bread - just to get a taste of it with food...still liked the darker one. I'd soooo add it to a little butter and cook a steak in it!

Time to head to the winery: Lagar Blanco. Now, we've had several opportunities to drink sherry on this trip, and I've enjoyed them all. Lagar Blanco is hands down the best we've had. The quality shines through; there is passion in these wines.

We were fortunate that Miguel Cruz, the owner/vintner showed up and gave us a complete lesson on making sherry in Andalusia. He is the quintessential expert on sherry and used to consult for other wineries in the region before deciding to create his own product.

Rosa y Miguel

So many barrels - all American Oak, all aging what will be very good sherry.

1) Cuestablanca - young white wine, 2) Fino - dry, almost mineral-y, 3) Olorosa - caramelly and lightly sweet, 4) Palo Cortado - a blend and very mysterious and complex, 5) Amontillado - I liked this one MUCH better than the one in Jerez, and 6) Pedro Ximenez - perfectly balanced and delicious

After these wonderful tours, Rosa took us to lunch at one of her favorite restaurants in town and then to her office to meet her staff and see where the magic happens. Yeah, we're already planning out next trip with her!

We're starting to feel the crunch of time as our trip ends on Saturday - where did the time go? No plans for tomorrow, but likely we'll head to Seville on Thursday. For now, it's time for a siesta!
 

Friday and Saturday

We had a quiet day Friday. We've been in this VRBO for a couple of weeks now, and it was time to do some housekeeping. So, pretty boring stuff. That is, until it was time to meet up with Rosa and our Patio tour.

Patios are EVERYTHING in Cordoba. Back in the days when there was a Jewish quarter in the city, several families would live together in what is now a typical patio in Cordoba. It's usually four apartments that are linked together around a courtyard. There was one, maybe two kitchens, one toilet, a place to wash clothes, a clean water well and the patio. In a long-standing - and quite charming - tradition, they were decorated with plants and flowers. 

As the Jews were escorted out of Spain, richer families moved into the apartments, but would renovate so that the whole place was just for their family. But they kept the patios. It was a culture thing. It was a home value. It was a family ritual.

In 1918, the city of Cordoba organized a contest (like a parade of homes show). Sixty-four families entered their patios. And in 2012 UNESCO declared the patios a cultural heritage. Now a days fewer than 20 patios compete, but Cordoba is working to bring back the patio to its glory days.

We toured toured three lovely ones.

Incredibly beautiful. The last one had almost 450 plants!

After our tour, we headed to a hotel near the Mosque. It had a rood-top bar with a view that could not be beat!

Then we were off to meet up with Steve and enjoy a fabulous dinner.

This morning (Saturday) Joe and I were both a little hungover but we had a 2p appointment at the Hammam Arabian Baths. Just what the doctor ordered. We had 60 minutes in the pools (cool, warm, and hot) and a 30 minute massage. Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.

It was right out of Arabian Nights.

This week we're heading to Montilla on Tuesday to visit an olive farm and a winery. It's also Rosa's home town, so I'm sure we'll get the full treatment. On Thursday, we're taking the train to Seville for the day. We're heading into our final week here - I can't believe it. I guess I'll have to get packing sometime soon.  

The Medinat Azahara and the Castillo de Almodóvar

Our friend and guide, Rosa Lara picked us up yesterday, and we took the scenic route to the ancient city of Medinat-Azahara, a scant 6 kilometres from Córdoba.

Legend has it that Abd ar-Rahman III built Madinat al-Zahra for his favorite wife, Az-Zahra. Concerned by her homesickness and longing for the snowy mountains of Syria, he surrounded his new city with almond and cherry trees, replacing snowflakes with fluffy white blossoms. It's a nice story, but it's not true.

Abd ar-Rahman wanted to claim himself as Caliphate for the region, nabbing power from Córdoba under the guise of protection for that city. He built a three-tiered city. The upper-most for his palace, the second for his prime minister (called a Ja' far - Disney got it right for Aladdin) and consults, and the third for servants, warriors, and the rest of the hoi-polloi.

For its time, the city was very modern. Surrounded by fortified walls and enormous towers, it commanded the surroundings from its strategic perch on the side of the mountain. Beautifully decorated terraces and patios, wide paved boulevards, and large houses with running water, ovens, and toilets were common. Grand gates protected the city and intimidated visitors as they were ushered through several areas - inspected and approved by security - before being presented to the Caliphate in his grand palace. And three mosques served the city; two smaller and one larger (for the different classes). They had their own money, industry, and services.

View from the upper terrace

Threshold of a gate - in locally quarried marble. The hole is for the stanchion that held the gate hinges.

Okay, here's some new information. Moorish construction is very VERY strong and seemingly lasts forever, and here's why: On the lower construction of this wall you can pick out a long stone and then two transverse stones (-----||-----) instead of the Roman-style construction seen at the top of the wall (how we expect bricks to be laid). That Mooish style is called soga and tizón (and there's no English translation for it). Here's a little different interpretation, but you get the idea.

Entrance into the son of the king's house

This style of capital is called wasp's nest (sorry, can't find the Moorish word for it).

This is the grand gate to the city - there were 12 of these, that one in the middle being the main entrance.

This is the entrance to the Prime Minister's house.

You can see the detailed decorations - still being unearthed and connected. Talk about a fucking nightmare jigsaw puzzle. See the hinges on the upper part of the wall - those were for the gates that opened like an accordion closet door.

Here's some of the decoration up close.

The city took over 35 years to build but it lasted for only a few more before the usurper Al-Mansur transferred the government to a new palace complex of his own in 981. It was so much fun to be in power in the 10th century.

Then, between 1010 and 1013, Madinat al-Zahra was wrecked by Berber soldiers. During succeeding centuries, its ruins were plundered repeatedly for building materials. And over time the city was buried.

After much research and planning (and a casual stumble upon a ruin ignited interest in finding and unearthing the city), excavation began in 1911...and continues to this day.

Still absorbing the enormity of this site, we were treated to a delicious lunch before continuing our excursion.

The Castillo de Almodóvar, sits above the town of Almodovar, on top of a cliff, offering spectacular views over the entire Guadalquivir Valley.

The fortress dates back to Roman times, the current construction, however, was built by the Arabs in 760. It belonged to the Caliphate of Córdoba and later to the Taifas (independent emirates) of Sevilla, Carmona and Toledo. Under the rule of Fernando III, in 1240, it came under Christian control, and under Pedro I and Enrique II it even served as a royal residence.

It fell into ruin, but in 1903 the Earl of Torralva, the owner at the time, began restoring the castle. The historic structure is therefore amazingly well-preserved. You can visit most of the castle, but there is still a private residence on the grounds...but nobody lives there. Apparently the owners invite friends to visit on the weekends.

The dungeon - complete with skeletons!

And that was our day! It's Friday now, and we've got some housework to do. I mean, we've been living here for a couple of weeks and...yeah, get out the Comet! Also laundry - but that's a given.

Tonight we are meeting Rosa and Steve for drinks and dinner. Saturday we have a date for a massage and a dip in the pools at the Arabian baths.