Let me just start this off by assuring you this has a happy ending. Things may sound a bit bleak for a minute there, but I promise it gets better…
Rewind to a Thursday evening in Madrid circa February of 2006. I’m in my neighborhood Irish pub, drinking my daily Guinness or Heineken and killing time with my roommate and some friends until our bus leaves the city around 9:00 p.m. We decompress from the week of school, polish off a second or probably third beer, and head for the station.
Fast forward to the next morning, as our bus arrives in southern Spain. We expect to be prepared for a wonderful sunny day in Cordoba, and are greeted by rain, hideous headaches that no amount of train station gummy bears can cure, and…
 |
| Crrrraaaash! |
Ever been in a bus accident sprinkled with Spanish expletives? Good times. Needless to say, we disembarked a few minutes early, and ended up somewhere random in Cordoba. After tracking down a quaint cafe to debrief and regroup, we decided there was nothing to be done but head back out into the pouring, near freezing rain, and see the d&$* place already.
Fueled by cafe con leche (and some bailey’s, probably) to keep us warm, we trudged through the city on foot in search of the crown jewel of Cordoba- the Mezquita-Catedral. Nope, you didn’t mistranslate there, the Mosque-Cathedral. If that is confusing, brush up on your Spanish history and return to this story afterward.
When we arrived, we walked through an orange grove courtyard…
By this time, we were so wet we no longer cared, had noshed on some delicious blue cheese pizza, and were sort of “recovered” from the impromptu bus crash. Things were looking up, that is. I should also mention that February is not exactly high tourist season in this small Andalucian town. We pretty much had the place to ourselves. What we found inside…
…was incredibly breathtaking. Humble and awesome at the same time, it was like being on another planet. Really old buildings with a lot of history tend to make me goose bumpy, and this was no exception. Quietly walking around the damp, cool concrete space, we explored the place in near silence and I was sort of surprised at the many alterations the place had seen over the thousands of years it had been standing. I’ve always loved spaces, whether it’s a mosque, temple, castle, basilica, or other public space. The plaza mayor in Madrid always creeped me out a bit with visions of the Inquisition, but I could never deny that it was a powerful place to stand amidst. This place was like that for me, and I can still feel the echoey central chamber of the cathedral if I try.
I explored church-temples, mosque temples, church-mosque-temples, church-castles, and many more while residing in Spain, but this particular trip stands out, perhaps due to the mood of the day, perhaps because we were so alone in the building, or perhaps it just struck me by it’s simplistic beauty.
So, to recap here, the rain in Spain is almost never in the plains, but I sure did see a lot in the south-
‘Enry ‘Iggins could learn a thing or two!
Have you ever been somewhere that really moved you for one reason or another? Were you able to describe why?
Cheers!
Meri
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