Here at last

I arrived to a cloudy, warm afternoon in Cordoba. Despite repeated assurances to the contrary, from multiple people, I discovered quickly that English skills are almost totally absent here. I had come hoping to rent a moped, but my rudimentary Spanish (¿Donde puedo alquilar una motocicleta?) was unequal to the task. I made my way to the "Mezquita," a very old (9th century) mosque-turned-cathedral (13th century). The old stone and almost deserted streets excited me as I approached the city center, but close in I discovered that the structure was surrounded by a solid ring of hostels, hotels, bars, and restaurants. Charming as some of these appeared, they too had their attendants, in the form of dozens of tour buses and their middle-aged, map-clutching occupants. I had thought I might stay in Cordoba first, but had a backup room reserved in a small town about 20km west, just in case. The tour buses and the bustle they brought steered me quickly to the latter option.

By this time I was growing quite frantic with hunger. A bus would have been the cheaper option at that point, but it meant a long walk back to the train station and an unknown wait. A 30€ taxi fare (which, I might add, was negotiated entirely in Spanish) seemed the better option, so off we went in search of this "Al-Mudawwar Rural Casa."

I saw the town from miles away. It covers the eastern slope of a tall hill. The hill juts south from the main line forming the northern wall of this river valley. The town is capped at the hill´s highest and most southernly by a great medival fortress. It looks out over the broad valley, standing watch, I imagined, for the Moorish invaders from whom this land was reconquered in the 13th centrury. The town´s whitewashed walls and tile roofs fall steeply away below, and it was through these narrow, steep streets that my intrepid cabby navigated for close to 30 minutes. He stopped frequently for directions (having dismissed the printed map I offered with a stream of passionate Spanish and hand-waving), but these seemed to lead away from the target as often as not. Finally, we found the inn. I was so relieved that I attempted to give the cabby a 10€ tip; I think this may have offended him, for he yelled that it was too much and insisted on only the previously agreed upon fare. I did not belabor the point, turning instead to my new home for the week.