Super Bock

Transportation is the word of the day. We wanted to get to the SW section of Lisbon and to do so we either walk for an hour or take the Metro (subway) near our hotel down to the south edge of the city and then pick up the tramline to the west. Both are new adventures as one negotiates Portuguese instructions or hopes for English instructions for Metro tickets and tram tickets.

We’ll give the Portuguese high marks for providing English translations to most things. No one speaks a lot of English but everyone knows a few English words and as always, we point, say things in French or Spanish and English and we get where we are going. The biggest trick is to fish 2.5 Euros out of my pockets, while riding the stopping and starting tramline, while wedged in with a few hundred other Portuguese and then deposit the coins in the ticket box. But it gets done and I only look partially stupid as I try to read the instructions. I tell everyone that I am Canadian and they all nod knowingly.

Our destination is the Belem district and first stop is the Royal Carriage Museum.

Seems the Queen of Portugal around the turn of the 19^th century had the finest collection of Royal Coaches on the continent. She gave them to the government of Portugal (probably to save herself money) and they built a museum. Good for the public. These things were fine. The oldest was from the late 1500’s and was in pretty good condition and was a real bone rattler I imagine. One can trace the evolution of carriages for the next four hundred years.

But the long and the short of it is…they got fancier. Wealth and status were more and more displayed on the carriages via carvings, gold paint and fancy leatherwork. They got larger, with glass windows and the drivers had higher perches for better visibility and safety. Apparently the Berlin carriage style (designed in Berlin and hence retaining the name, Berlin Carriage. These Europeans are ingenious.) was the breakthrough safety feature. Prior to that, carriages had a tendency to overturn on the streets. The occupants, like Kings and Queens and famous architects were not amused. The Berlin carriage put the weight of the carriage on leather straps, not the wooden mainstay. Something like that.

Anyway, carriages were handed out among European Royalty like swag bags at the Oscars. Every time the cousin of the King married a future king, which was apparently every month, the King of this or that country would send a new carriage as a gift. (Later that Monarch would invade the country and reclaim the carriage, so you might as well send off the fanciest carriage possible because you’re army generals will be confiscating it in the next war in a few years and you don’t want to look cheap to your military.)

The Hieronymites Monastery was nearby and we entered the Cloister as the church had a worship service just then. This is probably the best looking cloister we have seen. I highly recommend to our buildings and grounds committee that we consider a cloister.

Later we returned to see the Sanctuary. It has both elements of Gothic and Renaissance in its structure and was a delight. But, as soon as you walk into the church, look to your left and there you will see the burial site of Vasco da Gama. He is the one who put Portugal on the map by sailing around the southern tip of Africa and going to India and returning. The people were thrilled and he was a rock star in Portugal. Still is.

He opened up trade with Africa and India and his followers subjugated the people of Angola and Mozambique and the western province of India called Goa. I suppose his name is not as revered in those conquered lands. Still back home he is THE man and so is buried in the cathedral. The only person with a larger burial crypt is…you guessed it, the architect of the church and monastery.( He had his own burial room. AND a timeline explaining his achievements. Portuguese architects have egos the size of their buildings. But, they are quite good.)

The waterfront. Sunday afternoon. The Maritime Museum. A flea market. Lunch at the Museum. A bus ride back to town and a subsequent Metro ride which emptied us out into the city’s shopping mall. I don’t mean, beside the Mall, I mean inside the mall.

I looked around to see if the Mall architect build a burial shrine for himself…and sure enough, there it was, near the Food Court.

Peace, Bob

Blinded by the Light

Up above us, as we stood on the hilly streets of Lisbon, was the castle which we wanted to reach. The twisting streets were a puzzle to be solved so we pulled out our map.

“Can I help you find your way?” said a local Portuguese man and his wife.
“Sure, we want to get up to the castle.” we replied, pointing upwards.

“You can walk and walk along this street and go up and up, or take the yellow trolley car from that intersection up to the top. It will cost 1.5 Euros. Where are you from?" He then asked.
“We’re from the States. Ohio.” I responded, detecking a bit of an American accent in his voice.

“I used to live in the New York area, let’s see, what was the name of that place?….Ah, Newark!”
“Did they speak a lot of Portuguese in New Jersey?" I enquired.

“No, not a whole lot." Said the helpful man. "Well, if you will excuse me, I must find a Portuguese restaurant and eat some sardines.
And he and his wife left. 

You are never lost if you have a map. Those are my words of wisdom. You may not know exactly where you are and exactly how to get to point B but if you can find a street corner and orient yourself, you can get there.

Paul Theroux said, “A tourist does not know where they have been and a traveler does not know where he is going.”

On some days, I know neither, but for Saturday we did not know where we were going. We just looked at where the city met the shore and headed that way. On our way downhill we came to one of the largest statues I have ever seen. I figured it was a great explorer (Vasco da Gama?) or a great Portuguese King. (Sorry, can’t conjure any of those.) From this massive, commanding statue (complete with a stately lion by his side) flows the main thoroughfare of Lisbon, modeled after the Champs Elyse in Paris. Turns out the statue was….of the architect who re-designed Lisbon after the devastating 1755 earthquake. I am assuming he designed the enormous statue of himself be-striding the world. Clearly it’s good to be an architect.

After a 20 minute walk we arrived where all things converge if you want to see the various parts of Lisbon. We found a Kiosk which sold travel guides, chose one that looked comprehensive and fit in my back pocket, located the name of the Cathedral across the plaza and went over and inside. It was mass, so we sat in the back.

I have never seen such a place. The Church of Santo Domingo, from the 13^th Century. This was badly damaged in the 1755 earthquake and some subsequent fires and devastations. It looked like a few WWII battles took place inside the cathedral (I am not joking on this one) and yet the damaged statues and very unfinished nature of the cathedral did not stop them from worshipping. We sat quietly as the priest blessed the elements and invited the faithful forward. Not wishing to go against Rome, I sat still. During a break I wandered over to the Chapel of Our Lady of Fatima, a particularly sacred event in Portuguese history. (If that isn’t enough, there is a huge statue of Our Lady of Fatima at Indian Lake near Lima, Ohio. I used to see it all the time as a kid. I imagine I was the only person in the Cathedral yesterday who had visited THAT shrine.)

Many sentences of death by the Holy Inquisition were signed in this church. In an unrelated event…across the street in the plaza in 1506 a riot took place. There were two factions; one claimed that the light shining on the altar cross was a miracle, the other claimed that it was the reflection of the sun. 2000 people died as they violently debated that point and killed one another. (Clearly these people had some "issues" to work on.)

Earthquakes, Inquisitions and deadly riots. We decided to move on, silently noting that religion holds a troubled place in the hearts and minds of us all.

So, we spot the castle. Heed the advice of our Portuguese-sardine eating friend and find the yellow trolley, squeeze on, paid 2.50 each not 1.50...clearly our friend had been away in Newark a bit longer than he thought. And up and up we went. I imagine the trolley ( a preserved relic of the 1920’s…but like the Cable Cars of San Francisco….much loved and preserved.) could hold about 50. We had that many and more kept getting on and off. We were packed, well, like sardines. I certainly never expected so many references to this small fish in one morning. After 15 minutes of winding and climbing in the trolley, we decided to hop off.

 And there we were.

We noticed a number of folks heading up further on one street and so we followed it to the castle. We passed on that but kept exploring the tiny streets in the upper reaches of Lisbon. And came across a place to have lunch. The owner spoke English. The music on the sound system was Smooth Jazz. I was set for the day.

My new All-Time Favorite Restaurant in Lisbon

Time to come down. Down and down and around we walked on the small streets.

Plenty of other tourists around. We turned a corner hill and were confronted with this.

Lisbon’s Cathedral. We had to go in.

The cloister’s were the best as they revealed an archeological exhibit. They had excavated the cloister gardens and found sites dating back to the third century before Christ. The Cathedral had been built on top of a demolished mosque when Portugal was re-captured from the Muslim Moors. This was a common in-your-face theme. Defeat a people and build your house of worship on the destruction of your enemies house of worship.

The accumulated weight of all this history is something that I am intrigued by. So much of Christian history is about remaining dedicated to praising and serving God. So much of it is about punishing one’s enemies….but in the name of God, mind you. How does one know?

Peace, Bob

Ride Their Fathers' Magic Carpet Made of Steel

“So, what are you going to see in Lisbon?” the cab driver asks us as we are leaving the airport.
“We hope to see the museums and cathedral and the old part of the city.” we tell him because that is  
      what we do in every city.
“Did you know this was Carnival weekend? They have a big parade on Saturday and one on Monday.” the cabbie says.
“Oh, Fat Tuesday is in a couple days and Ash Wednesday is the next. So Portugal celebrates like Brazil!”  I add enthusiastically.
“Well, not that big. The parade Saturday is fun and the Monday night celebration is when people dance naked in the streets.” he says.
“Well, I’ll be sure to jot that down.”

Last week we took the slow train from Barcelona to the south of Spain. I blogged about the beauty of the countryside. It took about 13 hours. We stopped countless times along the way. We had the time and enjoyed it all. Nice leisurely, slow train trip. Not so today. Leisurely? Yes. Slow? No.

We had hoped to take the train from southern Spain to Lisbon. As the crow flies it was not that much of a trip. But, the connections were long and ponderous and we opted for a train to Madrid and a plane to Lisbon. The cost was the same, the time spent was considerably less. There was an AVE train from Cordoba to Madrid. That is the bullet train and we were pumped to experience it. Indeed it was fast, but once you are in the train flying along at 290 kph (which I suppose is about 200-220 mph) you can barely feel the sensation.

The overhead TV was playing an American movie. Headsets. People wandered to the club car. This was hardly “The City of New Orleans” which Arlo Guthrie sings about. All you could feel was the “whoooosh” of the wheels barely touching the rails. About the only sensation was when our 290 kph train passed another 290 kph train and the two set up a wind storm which shook the trains. Great fun. We covered half the distance of last weeks train in 1/6^th of the time.

Arriving at the modern Madrid rail station we hopped off and I went to the Information desk. Maybe I should say, “Information” desk. If there has been one thing that has surprised me is the lack of information at “Information” desks. I’ll be fair and say that the info booth at the bus station in Grenada, Spain was superb. Our United States Congress could get good advice from that booth. They could advise NASA. But in many cases, the info we got was…”go over there and see for yourself.” Rick Steve’s travel guides point out the helpful info booths and that is good. But, lots of them seem to be for show.

These people should work for the CIA, they wouldn’t spill any secrets to anyone. Maybe they do work for the CIA. They are tight lipped. Steven Jobs reveals more about his Apple empire than information booth workers on this continent. The Cold War would still be on if these people in the Info Booths were in charge; nobody would have ever heard of freedom uprisings in the other Soviet Occupied countries of East Europe if it were up to Information Kiosk people. Too late though. Europe is re-united and the Information Booth people who were formerly KGB undercover ops are now withholding crucial information from the tourist industry, like….where to get a train to Athens or how to find a bus to the Madrid airport. Europe is safe from prying ne’er-do-well tourist types.

Not sure what it is about Europeans and dispensing information, even when it is their job. It’s hard to come by. Nice people. Just not chatty. Maybe it is because there are so many languages. If you hesitate to come to Europe because you don’t speak Italian or Turkish or Greek, relax. No body on this continent speaks the same language and everyone is just mumbling and being courteous and nodding and pointing at their menus and clerks write out the costs and show them to you. Everyone gets by rather well (save for a couple world wars here and there) but when it comes to being chatty. No.

Also, another curious and delightful and alien custom is paying the bill in Europe. Actually, the trick is to get the bill. In Europe they apparently eat at a more leisurely pace and a lot later in the evening. You couldn’t prove this by us since we are always back in the hotel asleep when Europeans come out of hiding and all of the tourists are asleep, then they come to the restaurants and eat. (Or so we are told.). But when you finish your meal, no one offers you the bill. They will clear the table, ask if you want coffee and dessert…and if you do not, they still don’t bring the bill. You could sit there and re-finance your mortgage, engage in Middle East Peace negotiations, deliver a baby or two, but still no bill will come. They’ll walk around you to serve other tables and give you space.

But, when you ask for the bill….THEN and only then it arrives. When you ask for it, it is like an “Aha!” moment. Like no one had ever asked for a bill before and they, the waiters had totally forgotten about giving you a bill. It’s like the complete theory of quantum physics has been finally discovered and that no one had ever thought of it before. The bill arrives and you pay and everyone is smiles.

But chatty, not at all. “Merci” they will say, like a professor who is tired of your questions in college and wants to move on. I am sure the reason is because Europeans like to have coffee and chat. Have wine and chat. Have a meal and converse. Have the dessert and coffee portion and linger an hour longer. European friends sit and talk to one another. Americans get in, get out, get going. We’re getting out to our cars and hitting the freeway. Places to go. People to see. Things to do. Europeans hop on the AVE trains and fly across the countryside, slowly conversing with one another in the club cars of the train.

A polite, courteous society. Chatty…not really. (This discussion does not refer to Turkey…that country is much more chatty when it comes to waiters and the business people. Loved it.)

But I digress. I ask the “Information Booth” woman at the Madrid Train Station about a bus to the airport. She replies. “Go up to the street and look for the bus.”

Hmmm. That had never occurred to me. Go to the street. Look for the bus. I was glad I asked. These Europeans have got a system for everything. Buses on the street!

So as I stood on the corner amidst a few thousand people in Madrid I kept a careful look out for “buses…on…the..street.” And sure enough there were buses on the street. The trick was to find one going to the airport.

But, as we continue to travel, I continue to hone my travel-skills to a fine edge. Nothing escapes my attention, I note everything around me like an undercover operative. And then I spotted THE bus we needed and we were on our way to the airport in Madrid.

The fact that this particular bus was painted fluorescent lime green and had letters three feet high written across the side which said, “24 hour AIRPORT EXPRESS BUS ONLY” had nothing to do with it. I would have found it anyway.

My all-time favorite Lisbon restaurant...The Bar Grand Elias

Peace, Bob

Just Me and the Aristocrats

Cordoba has some of the big historical and touristy draw items. I have detailed some of them in the past couple days, but I thought you might like to take a walk in the general neighborhood where we are staying. This city has about a half million in its environs and our hotel is on one edge of the “old city’ with its centuries old streets and I don’t know how old houses.

But, if you look at the picture of our hotel you can see that it is jammed in just off the street. This is the largest and busiest single street around. The local buses use it and it can be relatively busy. So, for this morning we are taking about a 10 minute walk to Palacio Viana to see this old house/museum.

The streets get narrower as we go and I am not even certain what we are looking for. On the map there is a plaza nearby with its local church. So many plazas are hundreds of years old with a church as its namesake. We reach a church plaza and though it is quaint and old…it is not what we are looking for. All of the houses and small businesses are jammed in on one another and we don’t see how there could possibly be a museum anywhere.

We consult the map. Retrace our steps a couple “blocks” (can you have “blocks” with twisting and turning city streets?), make a turn or two and suddenly the houses open up and we are confronted by this house, our destination.

It seems this was the property of an old aristocratic Cordoban family which owned the house for centuries. It was passed down from generation to generation and finally in 1980 it was sold to the city and made a museum and tourist draw. They could have located on a busier, easier to find thoroughfare, but I guess when the family took ownership back in the 14th century, that was not on their minds.

We toured the twelve (12!) gardens of the estate. Each was small and unique and it occurred to me that it would take a couple people alone just to maintain gardens. I’m sure they did and since they were aristocrats, it was a case of keeping up appearances. The garden tour was a case of just walking through each garden and reading your brochure. The tour of the home was with a guide and about two dozen people. All of whom spoke Spanish. There was a French family. And there was Makaila and Me. The guide said that the tour would be in Spanish (a fact which she confirmed for the next hour). She handed our French friends a short guide to each room in French. We got the “Ingles” edition and we were off.

No matter. Splendor is splendor in any language. “Old and faded” knows no language boundaries either. All the Spaniards clustered around the guide, the French and “Ingles” tourists brought up the rear and got to see what everyone else did. And frankly, we got as much out of it as anyone. What was clear was….this house was big and drafty. The décor was an amalgam of several eras of which some was formerly the property of the family and some was there for museum-show.

The house wound around and around. The kitchen was in two parts, the preparation and the clean-up rooms. Pretty smart. And just when you thought you had seen the main “family room” we were shown another amazing room which had another theme. Either this family liked its sitting rooms or they could not make up their minds as to what era they wanted to settle in. It made for an interesting tour.

As with the old cathedrals, I kept looking at the ceilings and noting water leaks and structural damage. This would take a couple more men to just do building maintenance which I’m sure they had. (How many South American plantations paid for its upkeep….sorry, I grew up blue collar.) But, how fascinating the life of the upper classes. I imagine it was based on trade with the colonies and probably had its financial roots in South and Central America.

Many of the men of the generations were in the military and artwork and gun displays confirmed this.

Alas, in 1980 the last of the family had to sell, after over 700 years of existence. We bid the Marquises and Marchioness of Viana “buena suerte” and “gracias” and went of down the street to rejoin the masses who were trying to avoid repression and fomenting revolution while the Viana family lived in splendor amidst a dozen orange tree filled gardens.

What is the surprise of such winding streets is that there are so many tiny businesses thriving; plumbers, bars, pharmacies, grocers and the like. The houses are packed together, there are no yards (The Viana family took up all the available space for their gardens) and you have to walk carefully to avoid 21 century autos on 14^th century sized streets.

A few blocks away we come across this.

It is a church built in the 12^th and 13^th century. Granted, it looks like it has seen better days but it is still a neighborhood church. I regret that it was locked up tight. It was around prior to the Viana family down the street and I had to wonder if they ever worshipped here or stayed within their estate (the brochure says that at one time there was a chapel at their estate.) I suppose they may have made a few holiday celebrations at the ancient church.

Across the street was this plaza.

We continued or walk, constantly checking to see if we were going somewhere or just going in circles. Finally we reached a destination. The Torre de la Malmuerte. Tower of the bad death. I did not note any sense of irony in that name on the part of the Spanish and figured maybe it was to commemorate the plague (of which we have seen memorials in various cities recently). This too, dates from the 13^th Century or so. And the name? It is tied to a legend. Some woman got into a scuffle with her husband and he done her wrong and tossed her off the tower. Hence the name.

Interesting neighborhood, one that goes back only about 800 years.

Let’s see, Dublin Community Church dates it’s Gladden Chapel back about 135 years. In 1877, this neighborhood, the Viana family and its aristocratic forbearers, were sitting down to a lovely breakfast which they had been doing for about 600 years.

 

Gives one perspective.

Peace, Bob

Just the "Facts"

We are standing in the Mesquitza with its older than old walls and art and a tour group passes by.
"Over there the walls of the Mosque we built in 827" said the tour guide.
"And these walls of the Cathedral date from the 14th Century."  she notes to her group.
"What about these chandeliers above us?"  questions one of the tourists.
"Oh, those were 1997."

History is fluid. It happens and is told and retold and the listeners make it their "history." Sometimes the same story is understood in different ways and thus becomes the personal history of different groups yet with a different angle.

The Mesquitza is the focal point of Cordoba. Tourists flock to Cordoba because of this church turned mosque turned cathedral. Its style and colors reflect the area and the eras in which it was built.

We went in the morning and entered into the old courtyard which is filled with fruit trees and gardens. The walls of the place are huge and hide the gardens from the street. At one end of the gardens is the entry to the Mesquitza itself. And here is what we saw as we entered.

Everywhere a forest of columns which were the mosque. The colors and the arches were so striking and standing among the columns it felt like being surrounded by a forest of trees which was exactly what the architects wanted. So we wandered on and on through the "forest."

To where the imam would lead the prayers of the faithful.

If you continue around the inside of the mosques, walking through the forest of marble columns and brick arches you can go to each corner of the huge mosque and feel its beauty.

Now, come to the center of the mosque and this site appears.

It is a Catholic Cathedral,in Renaissance and Baroque style.

Within the mosque is the Cathedral of Cordoba.

The Romans had an outpost in Cordoba in the centuries after Christ. At one time they had a temple here. Then early Christians had the Church of St. Vincent on that spot. Around the 7th Century the Muslims took power in this region and tore down the Church of St. Vincent and built the magnificent mosque, The Mezquitza. In 1236 the Christian Kings reconquered Cordoba and worshipped for many years in the mosque after they re-sanctified the structure. Eventually the Cathedral of Cordoba was built right in the middle of the mosque.

Legend has it that the Emporer, upon seeing the beauty of the mosque, told the architects to not tear down any more of the mosque. Maybe so, but in any case. The Roman temple, turned early Christian church, turned mosque, turned Cathedral of Cordoba remains today, The Cathedral of Cordoba officially. Unofficially, it is The Mesquitza.

Thousands of tourist come here each year, but I noticed on the brochures given to us in the Mesquitza/Cathedral that the word, Mesquitza is not used. The brochure also makes clear that this is a living congregation of Roman Catholics who worship daily. There are relics of St. Vincent church unearthed beneath the mosque to prove that this was a Catholic Church before it was a mosque and that the Cathedral of Cordoba and its Catholics have the original claim.

It is still being fought over. But, what this guy saw was a stunning mosque like no other and a beautiful Roman Catholic Cathedral sitting on the same ground.

Cordoba is filled with history and much of it is still being interpreted. Later in the day we went to the Alcazar, the Fortress of the Catholic Monarchs. It is a mixture of fortress and gardens near the Mezquitza and the River. This too has an interesting history which makes one pause and consider.

In this fortress in 1487 Christopher Columbus first met King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella concerning his plan to sail west and find the Indies. There is a room in the Fortress which sort of implies (and I use that phrase intentionally, because there was no designation on the wall of the room) that it was the place of their meeting. We see a desk and chairs and a bust of a king and Columbus and some old official looking side chairs. No matter. They did meet in the Fortress, history was set by that meeting and subsequent meetings and events. The actual room is conjecture. I guess they never figured that THE room would be a big tourist draw.

And if that is not enough for one fortress, the Cordoban edition of the Spanish Inquisition took place here also in 1821. Jews were questioned and tortured to see if they had converted or had merely said they converted in order to remain in the country.

So much glorious history of the tolerance of three faiths and the intolerance of three faith. Many of the Sephardim Jews were expelled from Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella in the early 1500's and fled to Thessaloniki and Athens, Greece. I visited a museum there which told their story of expulsion and wandering and their deaths in WW II at the hands of the German Nazis. 

As for the Muslims who left in the late 1400s, many went on to Cordoba which remained in Muslim control for another 250 years. Today, the muslims are back and a part of the Cordoban community. Some have said that the Mesquitza should revert to a Muslim Mosque. The Catholic Bishop says that the Mesquitza was originally a Catholic Church and is now a living Cathedral.

 

History and its interpretations are fluid.

Peace,  Bob 

Just When You Least Expect It........

So we are winding our way through the maze of streets of Old Town Cordoba. It would be easier to follow a step by step, do it yourself appendectomy kit directions. Nevertheless we know where our hotel is and we are searching the map for the street to get there. It is part of the fun of wandering these cities. But, a courteous Spanish woman asks if we need directions.
"Sure!" I reply, always eager to engage the locals.
"Let's see, we are here, I think." She says helpfully.
"Uh, I think the map is upside down," I suggestl
"Oh yes.....OK, we are right here." she tells us and points to the gates of the city on the other side of town.
"Hmmm, Maybe we are here!" I helpfully say.
"Yes, yes, of course. And you want to get to your hotel over there, so go down the street, turn left and you will be there!"
"Ah, thank you very much. Gracias!!" I respond.
We walk down to the end of the street, turn right and there is our hotel.


The city of Cordoba in Southern Spain sees itself as the great center of cultures which flourished in the Middle Ages and ushered in the Renaissance. I suppose Florence, Italy would take issue with this assertion but there is no denying the significance of Cordoba’s past and what its future might bring.

Old City Wall

We entered Cordoba via a simple one hour trip on the train from Malaga on the Mediterranean coast. Cordoba, Granada (where we were) and Seville (where we will not go) make up the center of the Andalusian region. I am not sure why Malaga on the coast gets less credit, maybe they figure they have a beach city and so that is glory enough for now. But our train trip was simple and we were taken to our hotel. Like so many of these cities in Europe (and I have mentioned this many times) there is an “old city” within the modern city. Turns out our hotel is tucked in way back in the winding streets of the old city, making for some interesting first few hours as we wove among the streets trying to find our way.

The centerpiece of this city is the Mesquitza. This ancient wall cathedral has had and interesting historic from the 7^th Century onward and it is one of the places to which I am most looking forward. We’ll visit it later today.

The City Streets of Old Cordoba

The edifice of the Mesquitza is a result of what this city trumpets; the intersection of the Moors (Muslims), Jews and Christianity. Throw in the pre-Christian Romans who were present before the other three and you have a real cultural mix….at least, in the Middle Ages they did.

We spent an hour wandering the labyrinth of streets of the Old City and finally made our way to the river which borders that part of the river. Across it are many modern bridges which seem out of place up against the old buildings. We went to the Torre de la Calahorra which was a Moorish tower and had been used over the centuries as a guard tower, prison and school. Today is houses an interactive museum which showcases the intersection of the three great religions in Cordoba around the 12^th century. You hear from a great Muslim thinker (Iban-Arabi) and Jewish Philosopher (Mainmodides) and Christian King Alphonso X. All encouraged the three faiths to live in peace and harmony. There is no doubt that these great men were forward thinking. One could go up on the top of the Tower and view the city river and the Mesquitza. Finally I could get my bearings.

But the history of this city is a bit more complex than just great Muslim, Jewish and Christian thinkers espousing tolerance and harmony, and indeed many did so. Cordoba also has a fascinating history of intolerance too. Early Romans established a colony here. Under their reign a Christian church was established and then in the 7^th Century the Moors (Muslims) swept into the city and took it over. They paid for the Christian church and then tore it down and built the magnificent Mosque which is today the Mesquitza.

But that was not all. In the 12^th Century the Christian Monarchs swept back into the city and tossed out the Moors. Most of these Muslims headed for nearby Cordoba where Islam held sway for another 250 years. There was some intention of tearing down the Mosque (Mesquitza) and rebuilding a Christian Cathedral on the site. But the Mesquitza proved to be too beautiful for even the Christians to destroy. So they gave it a Christian name and tore out a section or two here and there around the ediface and worshipped there. (I’ll have more on this historical situation tomorrow.)

The story continues. The Spanish Inquisition was held here for awhile, as they tried to ascertain if Jews were masquerading as Christians or had really converted to Christianity. Today there are the remains of a 13^th Century Synagogue in the Old City near one of the ancient walls. Parts of Torah were engraved were on the walls and have been preserved. On one wall you can see the remaining painting of a Christian Cross which was there when the Synagogue was used as a Christian Church. Only a couple other old Synagogues survived the Middle Ages. It was a violent time which grew out of the flowering of philosophy, religion and art under the Moors and later the Christians.

There is also a tower called the Torre de la Malmuerte.....if you know your Spanish, you won't want to miss that place. I'll check it out.

And if that is not enough history; consider this….Christopher Columbus had his first meeting with Isabella and Ferdinand in this city of Cordoba concerning an idea of financing a trip by ship and sailing West to reach the Indies. I won’t give away the ending of how that meeting went.

Peace, Bob

La Manquita

"Two menus, one for you in English and one for me in Spanish!"
(said the waitress at the restaurant in the shadow of La Manquita.)

Once again, I am amazed and delighted at the notion of people in these cities going out and walking amongst one another. Today is a holiday in these parts and so there is no work or school on this Monday. We take an hour or two to walk the promenade along the beach....sort of a beach boardwalk....though it is a public sidwalk not a pier type thing.

Thousands of people are out walking. The old folks, many are dressed in their best. And the number of baby carriages would make any Priest happy for his parishioners. Malaga has lots of joggers too. We have not seen many for awhile but perhaps the sun and surf type areas bring out the I-gotta-jog-and-get-fit in people. In any case, it is good to see people go out in public and be with one another and share in something common. It is hard to get that same "community feeling" walking with others in Wal-Mart. 

The other night, the entire community was out in force walking in the Old City on Saturday night. There probably was not a person still in their homes, they were all down where we were in the center of town joining in the celebrations (whose specific significance still escape us). We were just looking for a place to eat, which was easy to do, then again, it was difficult because there were so many places to choose from. On that evening wandered around a corner of small streets and suddenly we were in a big plaza. It was beautiful with people sitting and dining and just drinking coffee or wine and enjoying the evening.

The picture above is the plaza sans a few hundred people, since I took it a day later. But then I looked to my right and I saw what the plaza was all about.

It was the grand and glorious Cathedral de Malaga (or for you non-native speakers...the Cathedral of Malaga). The only way to get a proper picture of the front of the cathedral was to stand in the back of the plaza beside someones dinner table and lean over their paella and snap a photo. It is not proper etiquette in Spain to ever lean over someone's paella...and so I had to come to the front of the plaza, in front of the outdoor seating space and bend over backwards to get this photo.

Now....look at it carefully....what is missing? (besides me standing in front of it and smiling.) One of its towers is missing. It seems they could not come up with the funds or they kept getting interrupted, by wars and lunch breaks or something and besides it took 200 years to get the building this much finished. Anyway...they never completed the second tower and so they have only one tower....thus, the people refer to the cathedral as "the one armed." And at todays costs, consider what it would take to finish it. Anyway, they love La Manquita. And it looks fine to me.

We went past the front gate. Most major cathedrals have ornate front gates which are kept locked except on worship days. Tourists, who far outnumber worshippers during the course of the week usually enter by the side or a cloister. In this case we went past a chapel where a wedding was taking place, we kept waiting for the bride and groom to emerge and we kept hearing church bells and we kept being hounded by beggers and so we moved on. The Mercedes was all decorated out on the side of the chapel. We went to another park located next to the cathedral. I noticed the side door of the Cathedral was open and a big sign posted that it was worship and no tourists were allowed. I looked in an most of the people were tourists who within about 10 minutes cames shuffling out. I had to return yesterday.

And here is what I saw.

I think it was worth the one day wait to finally get inside this wonderful cathedral. Work began on it in 1588 and it was finished (sort of) in 1782.The Catholic Monarchs forced the Muslims out of southern Spain in the late 1400s and so many of the cathedrals date from the early 1500's and we built over the sites of the towns mosques. Like so many, they are at THE center of the town and center of peoples's hearts. The irony of history is that many Muslims are back in southern and so there are mosques again.

 

This cathedral has numerous chapels, like they all do and each chapel had a particular focus, though some had numerous statues and bishops buried and patrons and recognized and saints recalled.

And of course, my favorite part of any cathedral...the massive wooden doors. They really knew how to build doors back then.

 

And this is not even THE main entrance. This was originally designed as a Gothic Cathedral but it was built in the Renaissance style with later major Baroque additions. I'll take their word for it.

Impressive. I love these Spanish plazas with their cathedrals and their sense of style. I love that you can sit in the plaza and enjoy a paella and meditate on my favorite saint, San Miquel.

Peace,   Bob