The Mezquita, Cordoba

A forest of Pillars, the Mezquita, Cordoba
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It was a really horrible night and I really don’t want to get up today. However I don’t have any choice – if I don’t get on the coach, they leave me behind. Just to add insult to injury today is going to be the longest drive of the trip.

At breakfast I’m suddenly really popular – everyone wants to know how I am and what happened last night. It’s amazing what people spot. One lady had seen Luis going into my room and evidently thought there was a more entertaining explanation than the one I had!

We’ve been told to split up into groups of two or three and enter via different doors.

Patio de los Naranjos, The Mezquita, Cordoba
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Eventually I drag myself onto the coach. Luckily our first stop is Cordoba’s great mosque, the Mezquita. However that’s not the first place I head. My primary mission is to find a shop that sells sports drinks. Thankfully this doesn’t take as long as I thought it might. I quickly spot a shop and by pure change the drinks are on display in the window. I load up with bottles after all, who knows when I’ll find any other supplies.

Having successfully completed my task I head back to the Mezquita. Luis has planned our visit like a military operation. The mosque opens at 8am for general visitors. However groups are not allowed in until 10am and they have to pay! So we’ve been told to split up into groups of two or three and enter via different doors. We relish the challenge and are now acting out James Bond style operations inside. Whenever we meet, we have furtive conversations just in case anyone spots us. In fact I think the main reason for our stealth visit is that we have to be on the road before it officially opens, still it keeps us entertained.

Patio de los Naranjos, The Mezquita, Cordoba
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The building is absolutely amazing. It is full of beautiful red and white Moorish arches supported by over 850 columns. The real surprise however, is the Christian cathedral that sits within its core. All through this trip we have come across buildings that have changes from one religious use to another, demonstrating the religious intolerance of earlier centuries. This is the most startling example we have seen so far. It’s evident that whilst the Christian successors wanted to stamp their mark on the building, they couldn’t quite bring themselves to destroy the whole thing.

The result is a schizophrenic building constantly at odds with itself. The Moorish part has a marvellous serenity that lifts your spirits. The cathedral feels like a parasite feeding off its host. No matter how hard the Christian builders tried to impose their beliefs on this building, it simply couldn’t touch its soul. Whilst sitting in the cathedral depresses me, walking though the forest of Islamic pillars helps me forget how awful I feel.

I eventually wear myself out and head for the Patio de los Naranjos, the beautiful courtyard full of orange trees that was where the faithful performed their ablutions, before heading into prayer.

The trees are all planted in rows with tiny brick lined channels between them. When we visit these are empty, but they should run with water. They acted as a basic air conditioner, keeping the courtyard cool. In amongst the fruit trees are a few olive trees. One in particular is incredibly old. There isn’t a great deal left of it, just a very gnarled, hollow stump. But it is covered with healthy new growth.Here I sit and wait for everyone else to filter back out into the streets and back to the coach.

Eventually I too drag myself away and back on to the coach. This is where my nightmare really begins. I take my seat, close my eyes and try desperately to think of anything but my stomach and where the next loo is going to be. There’s no sightseeing for me today, just let me get though this and back to Madrid, where I’m really looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Although most of today passes in a blur, I do recall lunch. We stop at a service station and everyone gets something to eat. I don’t mess around I find Luis and ask for help. He hasn’t forgotten me and has a lengthy conversation with the chef, who with some disbelief rustles up something bland.

Later in the afternoon we have a break at an old railway station that has been turned into some kind of retail experience. The track has long since disappeared and it’s in the middle of nowhere. However it does bring in the tourists to buy all kinds of olive oil based goods, including soap. You can also get herbs and spices, including tiny boxes of saffron. All this passes me by. The temperature is through the roof and I simply drag myself into the shade of the platform and sit on the hard concrete floor, leaning against the wall. Here I close my eyes and try to imagine being at home.

My dejection is only interrupted by a coach load of French tourists arriving. I peep at them through half closed eyes as they file past, pointing and staring. Now I know how the animals feel in a zoo! Perhaps they think I’m some kind of street entertainer, or simply a beggar. One thing’s for sure, not one of them tosses a coin in my direction – miserable lot!