A redhead named Mario drove us in a black Mercedes van to the Madrid Atocha train station for the high-speed train ride to Cordoba. Clare had been thoughtful enough to book us into business class, so a cold breakfast consisting of yogurt, bread, sliced ham, sliced cheese and some minced, dried fruit was provided. Coffee was offered several times during our one-hour and forty-minute train ride.
We had a brief wait at the Avis rental counter while the couple ahead of us acquired their car. The VW Passat station wagon that Ken had reserved was not available, but we were able to stuff all our luggage except my backpack into the trunk of an Audi. We drove the half mile to the parking lot of the AC Hotel Cordoba Palacio, where we were to meet our local guide, Carmen. Ken’s Garmin GPS system proved extremely helpful, because my interpretation of my Google map’s directions would have had us going the wrong way entirely.
Carmen found us, back in the parking lot, without any trouble. She has been guiding for about 16 years and has two young daughters. In addition to Spanish, she speaks English, French, Italian and German, all of which she can use to guide in. She prefers English, because more tourists speak English than any other language, and German because not many other guides are fluent in German. 
We re-entered the Jewish quarter and Carmen took us to a synagogue built in 1315, one of only three medieval synagogues left in Spain, the other two being in Toledo. It’s a small building, measuring just 23 feet by 21 feet, but it still has its women’s and children’s gallery and a niche in the east wall defining the ark where the Torah would have been kept. By 1884, it had been converted to a church badly in need of repair. When the covering of plaster was removed from the walls, the Mudejar arabesques from 1315 were revealed. The building was quickly declared a national monument. When Ken or Gail would ask Carmen to confirm their understanding of the purpose of certain parts of the building, she would reply, “Es-actly.” We all grew to love that expression. 
Carmen then led us through the streets of the Jewish quarter to courtyards arranged in the Moorish style, with cobblestone floors sloping toward a central well or cistern with greenery around it. Today the greenery is usually an orange tree. Carmen explained that the oranges are of a bitter variety, so that they will decorate the tree longer. Carmen pointed out the windows covered with jute shades, so many that I started calling it the juteish quarter. We learned about Maimonides, who was from Cordoba, but spent most of his life in other parts of the Caliphate. He is known today as a philosopher and Hebrew scholar; during his lifetime he was also a highly-respected physician. The Jewish quarter is replete with statues and many other references to him.
Carmen folded her copy of the brochure to illustrate how the church was constructed in four stages. Abd ar Rahmann I (756-88) bought the site from the Visigoths, demolished their church, and replaced it with a mosque about one-fourth the size of the present one. Al Hakam II (961-76) enlarged the mosque and added the prayer niche in the east which, through an oversight, faces east rather than directly toward Mecca. The last addition to the mosque, in 987 by Al Mansur, more than doubled its size.Some misguided Christians, on the authority of Charles V, built a cathedral inside the mosque in the 1520’s. Charles had never seen the mosque and, when he arrived to examine the new cathedral exclaimed, “To build something ordinary, you have destroyed something that was unique in the world!” Inside the church, in the Altar del Santisimo Sacramento, is an interesting depiction of the Last Supper, in which Mary Magdalene has her head resting on Jesus’ shoulder. It reminds me of Dan Brown’s interpretation of Da Vinci’s Last Supper in the The Da Vinci Code.
At Carmen’s recommendation, we took the scenic route to Granada, the two-lane highway rather than the four-lane, shorter in distance but longer in time. We passed several villages built around small castles on the top of a hill. In most cases, the church was outside the castle, but in one instance, the castle was large enough to have the church inside. It was scenic country, mostly olive groves with opportunities along the way for tourists to buy olives, olive oil or gasoline.
Ken’s GPS system, which by now had been given the name of Carmen the Garmin, took us on a very circuitous route through the narrow streets of old Granada to the Hotel Hesperia Granada. After checking into our rooms, we walked to a local restaurant run by Maria Mariquilla and named after her. Ken had monkfish, I had duck and Abby and beefsteak, all of them in delicious sauces prepared by Maria’s husband, the chef. Gail had another of her surprise salads, with ingredients that were not listed on the menu. We got back to the hotel at about 11:00 and fell quickly asleep. Or rather, relatively quickly, considering the bar next door was having a very cheerful party that spilled out into the street, and our window was definitely not soundproof.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Our Granada guide, Robert, met us in the hotel lobby prompted at 9:30. Although born and raised in Spain, he has a perfect English accent because his mother is English. He’s about 5’10” tall, with a slim build and receding short brown hair. He was wearing a jeans jacket, a black knit vest, white shirt, blue chinos and tennis shoes. He walked Ken and Gail to a point where they could easily walk to the Alhambra, and then flagged a taxi for Abby and me to ride with him. I was glad for the taxi, because the citadel sits on the side of a very steep hill.
Fodor’s calls the Alhambra the last bastion of Moorish presence on the Iberian peninsula, and so does everyone else. Mere words cannot do it justice; neither can photographs. The man who did do it justice was named Jose Garcia, a one-armed Spaniard who defused some of the French explosives that were meant to destroy it in 1812 as Napoleon’s troops withdrew. Because of his bravery, three of the Alhambra’s more important buildings were saved. Unfortunately, many more were destroyed. Only stubs of the walls remain of the destroyed buildings.
Construction of the Alhambra began in 1238 under the first Nasrid ruler of Granada, Ibn el Ahmar. It was completed in 1391. Just 101 years later, in 1492, it would be surrendered to Ferdinand and Isabella. One of the more beautiful spots in the Alhambra is the Patio de los Arranyanes, where a pool of still water reflects the myrtle hedges and arabesque arches of the surrounding courtyard walls. A hydraulic system – still in use today after 700 years - brings cold, clear water from the Sierra Nevada to the pools, streams and flowers of the Alhambra. We lingered in the Patio de los Leones, where a dozen lions support a large stone basin of water in
A plaque commemorates Washington Irving and his writing of Tales of the Alhambra on site in 1829. For 38 years, since I was last here, I have wondered what he did to deserve such a plaque. I learned today that his writings helped to revive interest in the crumbling citadel and led, at least in part, to its ultimate preservation. Who says that one person cannot make a difference?
We climbed even further uphill to the Generalife, the summer palace of the Moorish rulers. This was a cooler, higher-elevation, more verdant location where the Nasrid rulers could escape in the summer from the heat and hurly-burly of the official court in the Alhambra below. We developed an even greater appreciation for the gardens and flowers of the Moorish rulers and the aqueducts that kept them verdant.We said goodbye to Robert for the day. Abby and I had lunch at Restaurante La Mimbre just outside the Alhambra while Ken and Gail walked downhill into the Muslim quarter. We had a brief siesta and then met up with Ken and Gail in the hotel lobby at 5:15 p.m. We walked a short distance to the Granada Cathedral, commissioned by Charles V in 1521, but not completed until 1714, just a bit after his death. Fodor’s says that old hymnals are displayed throughout, but does not mention that
After the cathedral, we once again traveled from the sublime to the ridiculous. We went around the corner to Subway, where Gail and I each had “Baby subs,” small sandwiches for just 1 Euro each. Ken and Gail then showed us the highlights of the Muslim quarter, where we saw a bachelor party go by with the prospective groom dressed as a “nun” and his friends
We had supper at “Oliver,” an authentic Spanish restaurant not far from our hotel. Abby and I shared the Paella mixta, Ken had lamb chops, and Gail had a lettuce salad with tuna. This seemed to be the first salad that did not surprise her with ingredients that were not listed on the menu. After a delicious meal, we returned to the hotel and sank into bed.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
We met Robert in the hotel lobby. He climbed into the passenger seat of our Audi A4 and then Ken drove the five of us to the Alpujarras, a collection of villages set precariously on the southern slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountains. This was the final domain of the last Moorish king, Boabdil, after he surrendered Granada. In 1568 the Moors staged a rebellion that was brutally suppressed by Phillip II. All were forced to convert to Christianity and were relocated. The area was resettled by soldiers from Galicia, who were given the homes of the Moors as payment for their service. The residents still continue the formerly Moorish occupation of weaving rugs and blankets, as wells making baskets, blankets and other handicrafts.
Our first stop was at Lanjaron, 29 miles from Granada, a spa town famous for its mineral water that flows from the melting snows of the mountains. We went inside the spa to see its many product offerings – hot baths, showers, mud packs (both blanco and chocolate), massage, manicures, and much more. Water can be purchased with natural effervescence or, from separate taps, with various minerals in it. However, the water that cures constipation requires a prescription from a physician!
We drove all the way up to Capileira, the highest of the High Alpujarras, We found a coffee shop where we could buy coffee and Lanjaron mineral water to sip while we ate the local pastry, torta alpujarrena, a round flat quick-bread pastry about 10 inches in diameter with a thin coating of granulated sugar. Gail pronounced it perfect, and the rest of us quickly agreed. As we sat there enjoying the fireplace, Ken noticed a man at the bar drinking a whiskey-colored drink poured from a glass decanter. Robert told us that the drink is a young wine (vino joven in Spanish) known locally as costas. Abby and I offered to buy a bottle so that we could each have a taste, but Ken said that would be a mistake, because it might not taste good; we should have a sample first. Robert bought a glass for us to share and we each had a sip. Ken was right. This wine has never seen the inside of a barrel. It smelled like cider and had a VERY grapey flavor. Must be an acquired taste.
In Pampaneira, Robert led us to a spring-water community laundry, where there are eight very old
We found a shop where rugs are woven by using a hand-operated loom. We watched as the operator pulled leather straps to drive the shuttle back and forth across the loom. We did not see rugs any nicer than the blue-striped one we had bought in Capleira, which we will take to the cabin.
Outside, Robert encouraged us to drink from the Fountain of San Antonio, which bears a sign claiming that drinking its water will help us to find love. For those already married, Robert suggested that it may have the qualities of an aphrodisiac, so we all drank heartily. There were large clumps of wisteria and little yellow roses in profusion throughout Pampaneira. We found it hard to say goodbye to the High Alpuharras.
Back in Granada, we said adios to Robert and set off in search of lunch, it being 3:00 p.m., considered by Spaniards to be the perfect time for lunch. Ken led us to a little square that was holding an art fair today. It turned out that the west side of the square is also lined with restaurants. We stopped at Restaurante Casa Cristobal, whose sign advertised that it offered typical Grenada cuisine. Abby had fried chicken breast, Ken had steamed langoustines, Gail had grilled squid and I had octopus steamed with potatoes, Galician style. Abby and Gail started with salads and I had my first gazpacho of the trip. Muy rico! At the art fair, Abby and I bought a small print of the Myrtle Patio in the Alhambra from a young, bearded artist.
Monday, April 22, 2013
At 9:00 a.m. we loaded ourselves and our luggage into the car for the drive to Ronda, a small city between Granada and Seville that has been popularized by both Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles. Ronda straddles a ravine, 360 feet deep and 210 feet across, which separates La Ciudad (the old Moorish city) from El Mercadillo (the new town). The elevation at the top of the ravine is 800 meters, about 2500 feet, so it is cooler in the summer than Seville, which is closer to sea level. On the way into town, Ken got some driving tips from Ronda’s motorcycle police, at no extra charge, on how to negotiate its traffic circles. We met our guide, Armando, at the Parador de Ronda and walked to the Puente Nuevo (New Bridge), built between 1755 and 1793. At 360 feet above the Guadalevin River, it replaced an older bridge that had collapsed. Armando stated that it is not true that people were thrown off the bridge during the Civil War. However, a large room under the bridge was used as a jail for political prisoners during the Civil War.
We then went to Casa Bosco, overlooking the valley between Ronda and the mountains to the south. An interesting light fixture in the dining room showed winged creatures with light bulbs in their mouths. Senor San Juan Bosco willed his house to the Catholic church upon his death in 1888 and, in so doing, founded the order of Salesians. This was a classic example of a Spanish house from the early modern period.
We walked back across the bridge, where a bride and groom were having their pictures taken, to the bullring, which dates to 1785. The bullring is used only during Ronda’s May festival, and again in September during a tribute to Francisco Goya, who made many sketches of bullfights. Armando came alive and this point; it became clear that he is a fan of bullfighting. However, he recommended that we see some bullfights on television before attempting to see one in person. He showed us the stables where the bulls are kept before the fights, and then took us to the bullfighting museum underneath the seats of the stadium.
Armando led us to a small sculpture of a bull and explained the anatomy of bullfighting. The picadors
use their lances to cut tendons in the back of the bull’s neck to prevent him from lifting his head. This action by the picadors also separates the bull’s scapulas from its ribs, which allows the matador’s sword to find its way to the bull’s heart.
After lunch at a tourist restaurant, we walked to the car and began
Our drive into Seville was much easier our drive into Granada – no narrow, twisting streets to negotiate. Our hotel, NH Plaza de Armas, was on a major street just across the Guadalquivir River from the ring road. Ken had chosen an easy route into town. We had a dinner of tapas at the Giralda tapas bar near the cathedral. They did not seem to have our reservation, but had plenty of tables available. We sat out on the sidewalk. While Abby and Gail had salads, Ken and I had tapas of pork, rabbit, cod, ratatouille, and fish spread. Delicious!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
We wandered through gardens redolent with myrtle and acanthus, to a hydraulic organ, whose notes are generated by water pressure rather than air. Upon leaving the Alcazar, in the Plaza de Banderas, we encountered a bride and groom having their wedding pictures taken, even though their wedding was about a month ago. We then walked
Virginia walked us down Calle Reinoso, the narrowest street in Seville, not even wider than a sidewalk. We went to the cathedral, which includes a tower that has been replicated in the Country Club Plaza of Kansas City, Seville’s sister city. As a native of the Kansas City area, I have seen the tower many times, but did not realize that it is a replica of the Giralda, the tower in Seville, which was originally the minaret of a mosque. When the cathedral was built on the foundation of the mosque, a bell tower was added to the top of the minaret to give it the appearance it has today. At the top of the bell tower is a large weather vane that spins in the wind, which is the meaning of the word “Giralda.”
Virginia paid our admission fee to enter the world’s third-largest church; only St. Peter’s in the Vatican and St. Paul’s in London are larger than the Seville cathedral. This large gothic edifice is not cross-shaped like other churches; it’s rectangular to conform to the foundation of the mosque. The most notable feature of the interior is the tomb of Christopher Columbus, whose remains were moved several times before coming to rest here. Curiously, on a few grams of Columbus’s remains are actually in the tomb, but they have been genetically tested and found to match his known descendants. However, a church in Santo Domingo also claims to house his final remains, which are now awaiting genetic testing. Virginia walked us most of the way to Plaza Encarnacion, where Abby ordered a Greek salad and I ordered tapas at a sidewalk café called Spala. Ken and Gail stopped by 20 minutes later; they had stayed behind at the cathedral to climb the ramps to the top of the Giralda. We chatted with three young men in their late 20’s and early 30’s from Los Angeles who were at the table next to ours. They took our picture with Ken’s camera and we shared our sangria with them.
Abby and I walked back across the river to Merchant’s Malthouse, an Irish pub on Calle de Canalejas, not far from our hotel. We took the best seat in the pub to watch the semi-final of the European Champions League soccer match between Bayern-Munich and Barcelona. We ate nachos and a Greek salad until the end of the first half, when we walked back to the hotel to see the rest of the game. Bayern-Munich won handily.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
We met Ken and Gail in the lobby at 9:00 for our day-trip to Jerez de la Frontera. Our first stop was the Real Escuela Andaluza del Arte Ecuestre (Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art). The school operates on the grounds of a 19th century palace, now empty except for an excellent museum of equestrian history in the basement. Our guide, Mathilda, walked us through some stables, across a street and into a carriage-and-harness museum. We looked at a carriage from the late 18th century that is used for special occasions by the Spanish royal family. It was last used during the wedding of the king’s daughter in the 1990’s. We saw a video of her and her groom leaving the church where they were married, not unlike the recent marriage of William and Kate in the British royal family.
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We sat in the stands in the training and performance center and watched horses and riders practice their dressage. It all seemed very elegant, while at the same time harking back to a bygone era when horses were much more important than they are today. We learned that there are three types of instruction at the school, classical dressage, vaquero dressage, and carriage driving. Each horse learns only one type of activity. We looked at some vaquero saddles, which have very large, metal stirrups to protect the vaqueros’ feet from bumping into cattle and brush as they ride the range.
After a brief stop at a local coffee shop for a café con leche and a snack, we headed over to Lustau Bodega, known for its sherry, for a wine tasting. The English word “sherry” is derived from Xerez,
We tasted some sherry and ate some tapas-like snacks – Spanish omelet, almonds (salted as well as chocolate-covered), some sliced Iberian ham and chorizo sausage, as well as olives. We all agreed that the amontillado and oloroso were the best; the finos were too dry and the dessert sherries were too sweet.
In our rented Audi A4, we crept out of Arcos’ narrow streets and made our way back to Seville. Our two couples took separate routes to Spala, our favorite restaurant in Plaza de Encarnacion. I had grilled dorada (bream), Gail had grilled squid, Abby had Moroccan chicken, and Ken had braised pork. A TV in the restaurant kept us up to date on the Dortmund-Real-Madrid Champions League semi-final match, which Dortmund eventually won. It appears there will be an all-German European Champions League final. Tomorrow – Lisbon, Portugal.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Ken called our room at 9:20 to say that they were ready to drive to Lisbon. We crammed our luggage into the trunk and headed west and then north on a beautiful four-lane divided highway. Ken drove first, and then I spelled him for a couple of hours until we got to a BP gas station in Lisbon, where I turned the wheel over to him again. I had been so impressed with his driving in the narrow, winding streets of Granada that I thought he should drive in Lisbon, as well.
With only a couple of minor detours, the GPS system guided us to Hotel Heritage Avenida Liberdade in the heart of Lisbon. We checked into the hotel and then walked down Avenida Liberdade toward the waterfront until we found a restaurant and bakery that had mouth-watering pastries and baked goods in its window. Abby and I had grilled pork sandwiches, Ken had a grilled chicken sandwich and Gail had a salad. We then took a taxi to Castelo S. Jorge, an 11th-century Moorish castle that overlooks the city from its perch hundreds of feet above the port.
For supper we walked a block or two from the hotel to a restaurant named Servejaria that specialized in beer and seafood. Abby and I selected a crab out of the tank in the front of the store, which we shared. We ate the crab claws and legs with the help of a mallet provided by the restaurant to break the shell. The body of the crab had been emulsified into a sauce that tasted of mustard that we ate on toasted baguette. A delicious end to a delightful day!
Friday, April 26, 2013
We said goodbye to Isabel at the Maritime Museum. We paused in front of a map of the Portuguese voyages of discovery in the late 15th and also the 16th centuries. Abby noted that the zigzag course that da Gama took near the Cape of Good Hope was similar to our drive to our hotel in Grenada. We saw models of the square-rigged and lateen-rigged caravels that had made up da Gama’s fleet.
The exhibit concluded with a display of three seaplanes. One of them was the first airplane to cross the South Atlantic Ocean, and did so in 1922. Another one was an American-made Grumman – we have a canoe made by that manufacturer – and was in service from 1942 to 1952.
We took a taxi back to the hotel, and made arrangements to ride a tour bus around town. We even purchased a ticket from the hotel’s front desk. However, when we tried to board the bus, we learned from the driver that he was almost finished with his route, and the last bus had already passed by. Instead, we got a refund for our ticket and took a taxi to Praca do Comercio, a large square by the waterfront. In this square stood the royal palace, until it was flattened by an earthquake and tsunami in 1755. The new royal palace was built on higher ground, leaving this space open to be the large, public square that it is today.
Reunited with Ken and Gail at the hotel, we walked across the Avenida da Liberdade to the Gloria funicular, which dates to 1885. A funicular in this case is an electric street car that climbs an 18% grade. The body of the car is level, at an 18% angle with its wheels that ride on streetcar tracks.
In the Barrio Alto at the top of the funicular we found a restaurant with a friendly waiter who spoke English, French and Portuguese and probably several other languages. I ordered grilled sardines, reportedly a very Portuguese dish. These were not canned sardines, but large, fresh ones, grilled whole. They had the characteristic flavor of sardines, but without the salt and oil that characterize canned fish. The night cooled rapidly, but the waiter insisted on keeping a window open, on orders from the restaurant’s owner. If the purpose was to keep the kitchen ventilated, we didn’t mind, and we were warmly dressed.
Back at the hotel, we made our farewells with Ken and Gail. Our flight home early the next morning was uneventful, in contrast to our flight to Barcelona earlier. The four of us had a great trip together. Even though we had different interests and preferences, we were good decision-makers and everyone showed a degree of flexibility that would make seasoned diplomats envious. We even began planning our next trip together – to Turkey in 2015.
The highlights of the trip for me, aside from the wonderful company of Abby, Gail and Ken, were the Alhambra in Granada and the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, one a thousand years old and the other still under construction. Although we saw a lot of churches, none can compare with the soaring beauty and natural, catenary shapes of the Sagrada Familia. Although we saw a lot of Moorish architecture, none can compare with the still pools, fragrant myrtle hedges, and sinuous Arabesques of the Alhambra. In a way these two buildings are bookends for Spain. The modern, arching, golden-domed church in Catalonia to the north, and the Moorish citadel perched on the side of a hill overlooking the flamenco cuevas in the more rural south. Abby and I would go back to Spain, perhaps to live there for a while, to become more familiar with the cadence of the language and the rhythm of a life where dinner is at 2:30 and supper consists of nibbling on tapas by moonlight in a sidewalk café or in a quiet restaurant. We liked Portugal, too, but life in Lisbon seems more familiar. Life in Spain is lived more slowly, later in the day, and with a Mediterranean ambiance that warms the soul.
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