Cordoba

As if to make up for the somewhat sucky time in Malaga, Cordoba turned on the charm.

I had had a relatively short 90 minute train ride to my final Andalucian city, and the Cordoba Estacion de Tren was about five minutes away from the Hotel Maimonides, part of the relatively new formed Eurostar Hotel franchise and keen to impress.

I was right on the doorstep of the Mezquita and the hotel itself was Arabic inspired but with all the mod cons enclosed within. Such a relief to be in an about turn from the last place!
I was still in a single room, but it was compact three star luxury and I went on my usual explore happy that I´d have a decent home base for the next couple of nights.

Very close to the hotel I noticed a large display for a flamenco show - a must see I hadn´t yet indulged in. The genial host walked me through the interior grove and small plaza of the building and asked me to decide between two seats, one close to the stage, the other a step or so back, but still with a good view and under a lemon tree.
I chose the seat under the fruit tree, at which point the host cheekily dubbed me Ms Limontree and warned me avuncularly about Spanish men when he discovered I was holidaying independently :)

I then proceeded to get well and truly lost wandering around Cordoba, and three hours of good walking later I admitted defeat and caught a cab back to my hotel - I only had 45 minutes before I needed to take my seat for the night´s show.

Inspired to wear my yellow dress, I chatted to a young mother named Melissa from Nebraska who was travelling with her wriggly primary aged son. She had told me how she had seen a flamenco show in Seville and had cried with the intensity of the passion and feeling that the performers had put into their art - there was nothing like this in Nebraska!

One of the singers (cantaores) had been canvassing the audience before the show and thought I might be an easy pick for the night, but though I didn´t mind having a conversation with him, as you will see from the video, he wasn´t exactly my type...
Melissa said one of the flamenco guitarists was pretty much staring at me all night too, which is very sweet, but while she said he was an improvement on the last guy (I´ll admit that was true) again, I wasn´t that fussed and besides, with the number of sexy flamenco bailaoras (female dancers) in the company, I´m sure my citrus limon dress would be forgotten come mañana.

The dancing was fantastic and I was most impressed by an intense yet playful blonde who not only performed well but looked like she truly loved being up there dancing for us. The one male dancer (bailaor) was also very good and the speed of their footwork had me holding my breath.
Having recently had an insight into just how complicated some of the rhythms can be, I can only compare it to very focused and controlled tap dancing, but with less slide points and a definite amping up of the facial frowning :)

I´ve got some video footage of various snippets from the show, but with the unstable Internet upload options in most of the net cafes here, they may have to wait until I get back to Oz before I can set them up.

My photos may have to wait too, and I´ll probably need my tech savvy brother to run an antivirus program on my home PC to make sure I haven´t picked up any data viral nasties since I´ve been here.

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It was the Mesquita this morning and the temps were already in the high 3os celsius when I stepped out after desayuno (breakfast). A large digital clock (they seem to be everywhere on most streets) last night had announced at 8.30pm that it was 42C in Cordoba and with the heatwave sparking forest fires in parts of Mediterranean Europe including Spain, I am fully expecting it to get much hotter when I head onto my two interior stops of Toledo and Madrid.

The Mezquita was in contrast quiet and shadowed, its high ceilings drawing away the heat and its marble floors and columns blessedly cool.

I wandered for ages taking interesting pictures of its Arabic mudejar interiors, remodelled Catholic central cathedral, and the verdant grove in the courtyard it enclosed.

A further short walk took me to the Alcazar de los Reyes Christianos (Fortress of the Kings), the home of the conquering Christian monarchs of Andalucia.
It had a beautiful garden despite living up to it´s military title - the battlements looked fierce and ready to accommodate archers and there were tower rooms with very small windows to contend against attacks.

It´s onto Toledo via Madrid tomorrow as I head into the heart of Spain!