One Swallow does not a Summer make……

Posted on May 19, 2012 by Giblogswallop

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass – It’s about learning how to dance in the rain!”

Personally, I don’t think Gibraltar-time is as slow as anywhere else or is it that we do so much? After all, we only have a finite time at our fingertips? Or is it that because we do so much, time just travels at a great rate of knots? Or is it that I am just getting old?  Anyway, I am waffling and trying to think of why I haven’t written for a month and I think the reason is, we have been so busy just living!

We haven’t been anywhere new but we have had a hundred new experiences as we have dug deeper into the places we love……

Royal Visitors to Gibraltar

When I say Royal, I am not talking about the forthcoming visit of the Earl and Countess of Wessex to the Rock, no, it’s far more important than that; I am talking about the much heralded visit of the ‘in-laws’.  These are our last visitors to Gibraltar, as our plans to move home to the UK gather pace. So, have they been very clever in timing their visit? Did they feel leaving it until the last moment that my wife and I would be at our most knowledgeable about the surrounding area, or did one of them have an innate fear of flying that needed a happy pill the size of which would see a shy elephant doing flamenco in casemates on National Day! I think it was the latter and needless to say we did not mention that Gibraltar Airport is one of the 10 scariest in the world! So at last they arrived for one week of what we had promised would be non-stop fun in the sun.  Then it happened – it rained and rained and rained……but this did not stop us one iota – we had things to do – we had things to see.

The Gibraltar Museum is a great start for any visitor. Ever wondered what Gibraltar looked like 30,000 years ago?  Do you want to learn more about the Great Siege? Or more importantly do you want an insight into what it really means to be a Gibraltarian? How much? I hear you say……….well for two of your hard earned pounds you can learn so much…outstanding value.  It is fascinating stuff and I am sure I still haven’t seen all of the pictures. But enough of the history, what we need now is Gambas Pil-Pil from the Seawave at Caleta (The name La Caleta meaning ‘small bay or cove’).  While down in Catalan Bay, all of our visitors are guided to stick their heads into the Church of our Lady of Sorrows and in doing so you can really feel the Genoese history of yesteryear – a wonderful village away from mainstream Gibraltar. Our appetite suitably sated, it’s then up the Rock for a Giblogswallop tour of the Nature Park and thankfully on this occasion there was some respite from the weather so we could see the wondrous views. I, for one, will never tire of the ‘Coo’s’ or the ‘Wow’s’ as the new visitors share in the experience that we too went through some time ago. Afternoon tea or morning coffee at the Rock Hotel (obviously the other way round if you are going on the same day) are always enjoyable as you look upon Gibraltar Bay through their windows like a big TV screen.  Afterwards, a descent through the Alameda Gardens is an absolute must; founded in 1816 at the initiative of the Governor, General George Don, they were to provide an area of recreation for the residents of Gibraltar.  For many years they served this purpose but in the 1970s they fell into a state of disrepair. It wasn’t until 1991 when the Government of Gibraltar contracted a firm of environmental managers that the gardens were restored and converted into a botanic garden.  Today, they are a living collection representative of Gibraltar; there is a vast display and collection of plants from Mediterranean climatic zones around the world that is a sight to behold.

Also very important for us with when we have visiting Royalty (as you try and show all of Gibraltar in a very quick time) – is not necessarily the commerce of Main Street or the cafes and lovely afternoons in Casemates (although they are important) but to show the peace and tranquillity and the beautiful architecture of the avenues and alleyways that provide a labyrinth of discovery in the city’s hinterland.  We love walking up and down steps marvelling at the beauty of the restored houses and equally admiring the innate elegance of the now tired properties or balconies that have seen so much…….wondering to ourselves who had stood high above and what they had viewed from their lofty height over the years.

There is so much to do in Gibraltar…..Europa Point…Rosia Bay….Landport Gate….Moorish Castle…to name a few…….however one pilgrimage is to visit the Trafalgar Cemetery to be at one with those who gave their lives so that we can enjoy the life we have today.  But more than this, you can then take the experience further with a journey up the Costa de la Luz to Cape Trafalgar. Here, one can marvel at the history that unfurled just a few cables from the shore (a cable is a mariner’s measure of 200 yards).  A silent moment!

On other days, we had wonderful  trips to Vejer de la Frontera, we caught the train to Ronda (one of our favourite days out) and we went to Castellar (this was one of the mother-in-law’s personal favourites – the early morning tranquillity up on high, watching the swallows dive in and out of the ancient castellation and all with our wonderful Gibraltar smiling at us in the distance).  Differing days, to admire the Moorish Andalusia and to sample Spain. And boy, did my Father in Law and I do some sampling! Some fantastic Tapas and some really rustic bars were enjoyed – TAPATASTIC!

Some visitors to the Rock go to the top in a cable car, take a picture of a view without understanding what they are seeing – they will never understand the hurt and heartache below them or the joy and belief and strength of the people – they shake hands with an ape and then go home again totally ignorant of what they haven’t seen.  However, you can ask all of our visitors…..they go home with a fantastic experience behind them, but it isn’t the Spanish sun, sea and sand memories they depart with…..It is the magic and mystique of Gibraltar that they have enjoyed; it is the immensity of something so magnificent, so full of character, so vibrant that will forever stay with them.  They too love Gibraltar as much as we do.

Levanter

The levant is an easterly wind that blows in the western Mediterranean. It has particular resonance when the wind blows through the Strait of Gibraltar and locally it is known as the Viento de Levante or the Levanter. Usually gentle and damp, the levant frequently brings clouds and rain and the wind is particularly known for creating a particular cloud formation above Gibraltar.

The Levanter winds can occur at any time in the year, but are most common from May to October. (Now!) So Geography lesson over, imagine my surprise when I looked out of my office window and saw what I thought was an avalanche coming towards me.  The photos below are taken on a very basic mobile phone but nonetheless show the drama that unfolds when the temperature on Gibraltar plunges from 32 degs C to 17 degs C in less than an hour.  The result was nothing less than spectacular.

 

 

 

 

 

Les Miserables

St Michael’s Cave is an amazing, natural, phenomenon and because of its easy access means thousands of people can marvel at its wonder. Thought to be bottomless and first mentioned in the writings of Roman travel writer Pomponius Melia in 45C……

He (Pompey for short!) described Gibraltar as:

“A mountain with wonderful concavities, which has its western side almost opened by a large cave which may be penetrated far into the interior.”

St Michael’s Cave has seen millions of visitors since then though not all with tourism in mind! For instance, there were 500 Spanish soldiers who were led to safety by the shepherd who knew a secret path to safety and I am sure you know that legend has it that the Rock of Gibraltar was linked to North Africa via a subterranean passage through which the famous Barbary Apes were said to have arrived in Gibraltar.

It was in this great cavern that we had come to watch our concert performed by The Calpe Rooke Band and their ensemble.  Tickets were sold out weeks ago – such was the demand, they had to put on an extra show.  Les Misérables is an 1862 French novel by author Victor Hugo that is widely considered one of the greatest novels of the nineteenth century.  In 1980, a musical of the same name opened in Paris – obviously this was in French so in 1985 an English language version opened in London – produced by Cameron Mackintosh and the rest, they say is history…….or should I say that it has now become one of the most successful musicals in history.

Having been transported up the side of the Rock as the sun was beginning to lower in the sky, we left the dry heat of the day behind and walked into the cool, dark caves, full of expectation. We found two seats just as the lights went down and the band struck up and were immersed in the openings of the concert before we could even uncork our bottle of red! After a faltering start, the main characters began to step forward to belt out the songs and the story – the concert gathered pace. The output of the band combined with the immense power of Jean Valjean, Javert and Marius’s voices made me wonder if the menacing stalactites hanging above us might become dislodged! We knew the songs well enough to sing along, as did so many of the audience – feet were tapping for the Master of the House, fists were clenched for ‘Who am I’ and tissues were out for the death of Fantine. An amateur (they have real jobs!) production it may have been – but the appreciation of the time commitment it takes to pull such a show together, the voices doing justice to the original plus the setting of the spectacular, illuminated St Michael’s caves made it one of our most memorable nights in Gibraltar (or ever!). ‘Bring him home’ was sung with such passion that our tears would be adding to the stalagmites of tomorrow (also its important to understand as you sit there that every drip that relentlessly dripped on my nose had taken a century to gather pace and travel through the limestone down onto me!).  We felt lucky, nay privileged to have witnessed something special……we were not in the West End of London……but we were watching Gibraltar’s finest performing and giving their all; in the very heart of the Rock.  When the cast and band had taken their final bows, and having finished our bottle of wine during the performance (we popped the cork during one of the loud parts!) we merrily skipped down the Rock hand in hand in the pitch black, the fairy lights of the city below guiding us home, repeating and singing the songs and of course declaring our undying love (again) for Gibraltar.

One Swallow

One swallow does not a summer make…….this was the title of this post……but never again will I dismiss the sight of a swallow………first one, then a couple, then all of a sudden they are here in their hundreds…..it is May…..it rained in April……it is hot now…….and to all those in England, the swallows are on their way……..but for us……for the moment….in Gibraltar…….the summer is here!  And for many years to come, we as a family, for us many sentences will always start with……….”When we were in Gibraltar……………”

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Can Flamingoes do Flamenco?

Posted on April 14, 2012 by Giblogswallop

Why does a flamingo stand on one leg?

Because if it lifted that leg off the ground he would fall down!

Whoopee – two whole weeks off work.  Let the hedonism begin!  Firstly my brother is arriving from the UK; he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother; and this weekend would lead us to where?  Luckily, my brother and I don’t drink, so it was off to the local museum followed by tea and cake. This is, in fact, not quite the truth but rather than go into all the ins and outs, a fabulous (or in welsh – ‘fablous’ – they do like to remove their vowels) couple of days ensued.  One of the highlights was a visit to the Santa Maria Polo Club at Sotogrande – I have never been to a polo match before so really didn’t know what to expect – fast croquet on a horse?  After several matches, an introduction to the rules and some inside knowledge from our secret agent we were now polo connoisseurs; our agent also informed us you can take your own picnic and sit in the sun while you marvel at the horsemanship and excitement of the sport, moreover you can do this whilst relaxing on a white cushioned outdoor sofa with a glass of vino collapso, we were well and truly sold………plenty of room for Little Feet to run around and kick a ball too – when can we go again please?

In our time in Gibraltar, we have travelled extensively throughout Andalusia but as Easter approached, there was one remaining province to conquer.  Not that we will get to see all the beauty of each province but we felt it important to understand a little of the different areas.  Almeria was next on our agenda – what should we do – a small villa with heated pool, an apartment or the decadence of a hotel? Hang on a minute, a golf resort – I like golf – we can sight see, I can play golf, we can swim and we can relax and come back fully rested – sounds like a plan.  So we headed off to Playa Macenas – a brand new resort in between Mojacar and Carboneras on the Almerian coast, around about a 5 hour drive.  On the way there we drove the familiar coast road and plumped for lunch in a little coastal village off the beaten track. The scenery was a-changing and getting drier and browner the further we went east but it was new, so therefore delightfully fresh to us. The other stark contrast we noticed is that the buildings got flatter and looked more like building blocks – gone were the Andalusian courtyards of the pueblo blancos and in were the flat thick roofs of North African descent.  The Desert – we were holidaying in the desert (well nearly!) – the desert of Tabernas where the temperature never goes below freezing, it averages at 20 Deg C and in summer is regularly 40 Deg C in the shade – it’s where Fistful of Dollars, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and other classics were filmed.

Mojocar – is a village that used to be called just Car then it got its Mojo back – actually that is rubbish, as the village is actually called Mojacar – but I liked the joke!  Mojacar is actually comprised of two distinct areas: Mojacar Pueblo (town) and Mojacar Playa (beach), roughly 2 km apart.  Historically, Mojacar and the surrounding desert area inevitably suffered severely from droughts and the residents had continued to leave. This depopulation of Mojacar continued until the 1960s when it reached critical proportions with only 1000 residents living in the area. Local leaders then decided to give away land to anyone who promised to build upon it. This offer proved to be the spark which rekindled Mojacar’s economy. New residents began to appear and the town soon became a thriving artists’ colony. Word of the region’s natural beauty began to spread, tourism brought foreign money to the area, and the beach area became a favourite vacation retreat for travellers. Mojacar still has one of the highest expatriate populations in all of Spain.  Personally, I felt the Playa is a soulless area of bars and restaurants and modern buildings but the Pueblo sitting high on a rocky mountain top like a multi layered wedding cake is full of character and charm.  Clearly a tourist trap for those (like us) staying in the Playa or one of the local resorts, it still retains its beauty and the views are magnificent.

One of the main reasons for going to this area was to see the Spanish Flamingo and as you all know the Spanish word Flamenco literally means flamingo (the dance does resemble the form of the elegant bird which is not only native to Southern Spain but can be found all along the migratory routes of the Romani people across moorish North Africa). So to see a flamingo do flamenco was our aim………

The Cabo de Gata-Nijar is a natural park and is the largest of its kind in the western Mediterranean; it has its own mountain range and is predominantly volcanic which is in stark contrast to the sandstone of the desert only a small distance to the north!  Armed like regular twitchers with our binoculars, (we’re really not!) we parked the car and laughed with surprise as Little Feet ran to the public hide to get to see them first. If I was honest, I wasn’t that hopeful of seeing them as all the guide books had said that the flamingo was predominantly on the salt flats wading through the shallow waters in the summer – but HANG ON A MINUTE – there they were right before our very eyes – loads of them – magnificent - I could have wept with delight – it was so exciting to see such a wonderfully elegant bird in its natural environment.  Having achieved what I had set out to do on the very first day of the holiday meant I could now go home happy! (Earlier on I mentioned polo and croquet but do you remember the Queen of Hearts playing croquet using a flamingo!)

Throughout the week we wondered and marvelled at the wonderful sunrises from our balcony and we loved the coastal villages and their ponderous pace of life.  We especially enjoyed Agua Amarga, a delightful little fishing village that is cut off completely from the surrounding world. Apparently favoured by Italians as a summer getaway destination, its classy cafes right on its golden sands and the blue Mediterranean sea completed the perfect postcard picture location.  Another small coastal town of San Jose we found to be a lot busier and lot more ‘touristy’ but enjoyed its vibrant, friendly ambience down around the beach and harbour area. We were spoilt for choice for food and the fino and accompanying fish soup were outstanding. The bohemian in me felt comfortable and very relaxed in these surroundings (maybe that was the fino!).

The golf course at our resort, although a little shorter than most courses, was a real challenge with its doglegs and undulating greens. The swimming pools however were not – beautifully sheltered in a re-creation of the Andalucian courtyard, although cold (ish) the girls did try them out each day! I, however, only went in once – not sure whether it was the cold water for that time of year or if it was lack of time over the next few days(golf!). Easter Sunday is a wonderful spectacle all over Catholic Spain from the Semana Santa processions in the big cities to the intimate occasions in the smaller villages. We chose Mojacar and were not disappointed. Having secured a table in a cafe alongside the main square, we watched with interest as the well dressed townsfolk gathered in the Plaza – we felt privileged to be witnessing a religious event which is so important to the country we have come to love. As the church bells began to chime, the noise and chatter died away as the town’s population were drawn away up the street and into the church for the service. Half an hour later as cannons fired, the all important procession began – this was the bit we desperately wanted to see – but it clearly was going in the opposite direction to us. We waited as the music disappeared down the beautiful, steep, white washed streets and around the corner out of sight. Time passed and we were worried we had misjudged our position and were going to miss the whole thing. As we wandered down the back streets to try and catch it as it snaked around the narrow, ancient town, we were in luck – the music in the distance became louder until there it was, the slow, melodic procession appearing under an archway in all its glory. Jesus was held aloft, supported by ten local men dressed sombrely in black suits – in contrast were the meadow like flowers around the base of the ‘paso’, swaying as the procession moved along. The band was made up of mainly young people, so smart in their uniforms, and they were then followed another ’paso’ carrying Mary. The music made us feel emotional, as did the fact we were at last taking part in the Semana Santa celebrations, our last opportunity on our adventure in Gibraltar and Southern Spain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The holiday was over and all that was left was the laborious drive home – did I say laborious – I meant majestic.  The scenery filled us with wonderment; starting in the dry dusty brown nay red desert lunarlike landscapes of the east we headed west.  Past the film sets with cowboys advertising their wares on horseback and past the teepees of the American Indians (just a reminder we are in southern Spain!).  Before long we were looking up at the snow capped peaks of the Sierrra Nevada and marvelling at the contrast of their temperature against the azure blue sky and sunshine.  On our right, we now had the amazing troglodyte cave villages of Guadix which are over shadowed by the mountains. All the time we were struck as the shades of brown morphed into shades of green. Then the agriculture began to appear as we passed through Las Alpujarras – as far as the eye could see, the braid like appearance of the olive groves proved dominant.  Through Granada and now towards the forest laden hills and backdrop of the Sierra de Ronda before we turned south west and hit the coast  – the Costa del Golf with its manmade abominations that really demonstrate we were now back in civilisation. After a holiday of pure culture and experience – how about a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Fuengirola to round it off! Really? Okay then……………and a bit of shopping……………now remind me again why is there always so much month left at the end of the money?

Finally, of course the question you all have on the tip of your tongue is CAN FLAMINGOES DO FLAMENCO? As it is the title of this blog – you need evidence and unfortunately when we saw the phenomenon happen, my camera was not charged and ready – I have only the following picture to offer – my little girl drew this as proof of what we saw…….from this you can draw your own conclusions!

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Two pints of picnic and a packet of Cordoba please?

Posted on March 17, 2012 by Giblogswallop

“The other thing is quality of life; if you have a place where you can go and have a picnic with your family, it doesn’t matter if it’s a recession or not, you can include that in your quality of life.” - Jim Fowler

‘Where have you been?’ – well I haven’t been to London to visit the Queen (Gawd Bless Er!) but I (we) have been extremely busy…….there may even have been a smattering of the nasty word that is ‘work’ involved but worry ye not, nothing too much, as we have still been able to have an absolutely fantabulous time down here in Gibraltar and Southern Spain.

 The Hurricane Hotel

Before I get down to the blog in earnest, I feel I must just tell you about this little gem of a hotel that we stayed in back in January (told you we had been busy!). Rather than going too far afield after a trip back to the UK for Christmas, we decided to have a night in one of our favourite locations just 40 minutes along the coast , Tarifa (Europe’s wind and water sports capital).  The hotel itself is actually just outside Tarifa, along the 7km stretch of Atlantic beach -  when I say along, what I really mean is the hotel is virtually ON the beach, protected from the road by stunning subtropical gardens and bubbling fish ponds which make you feel as if you are totally secluded! It is built in the Moorish style, with the gardens naturally guiding you down to miles of unspoilt golden sands with spectacular views across the Straits of Gibraltar to Morocco.  The room itself was overlooking the pool and beach, with huge windows which let in the wonderful light from the Costa de la Luz. The decor was an eclectic mix of Moorish (brightly tiled bath), Eastern (paintings on the wall) and Colonial (lots of wood, plants and pale fabrics). There was a log burner and lanterns with candles. Very comfortable indeed.

One of the reasons we chose this hotel was due to the location of a beach bar that belongs to one of the nearby campsites. We could actually walk along the beach from our hotel to this bar, where we could relax with wine and tapas and watch our little girl go paddling, just 10 feet away, in January – yes you heard me – this place really is location, location, location.  After spending the afternoon paddling, writing in the sand and relaxing, there was of course the obligatory holiday siesta back at the hotel. Having had baths and made ourselves beautiful, we then wandered barefoot along the beach again to this bar to marvel at the magical sun set on the sparkling sea.  It was full of locals, couples and families, who then finished their drinks and disappeared as soon as the sun set. Clearly a popular spot for watching the colours as the sun goes down. We however, stayed, and had our evening meal at the restaurant – it was unexpectedly expensive (location etc) but it does afford a huge discount to the people that are staying on the campsite and an uninterrupted view of the close of the day on the Costa de la Luz.

Rio de la Miel

We needed a walk near to our beloved Gibraltar that would be long enough for Ploughman the Beagle and short enough not to tire Little Feet  (aged 4)  or better said ‘not put her off walking for life!’ – but also long enough for Mum and Dad but not long enough to tire Dad out who would carry the picnic out and then back again in his tummy! (if at any point my wife should dispute the carrying of the picnic rucksack, you are to ignore her!).

Just beyond the industrial backwaters of Algeciras on the way to Tarifa, there is a roundabout that has a pink tree, blue tree, purple tree, orange tree and red tree growing – you know the one – I say they are natural but again my daughter (wise for her years!) assures me they are painted…….. Anyhow, if you turn right here you can pick up the signs for Rio De La Miel.  Once parked you then have a straightforward walk following the river all the way into the hinterland.  First of all, there is a farm track surrounded by Cows and Egrets (too few to mention!) (sorry!) and as you get a little higher and start entering a forest, the track takes you over a bridge at a mill and narrows considerably. The river bubbles away next to you and was all colours of auburn and bronze in the morning light that had been tinted by the winter foliage.  The dog loved the sniffs and there was no one else around. After around an hour, we were nearly at the waterfall but there was a picnic-perfect clearing for us to have our lunch…….we ate and drank heartily whilst rock hopping and throwing stones into the pools…..another degree higher and I could have been tempted into the crystal clear waters! Eventually after an hour of doing nothing, we walked the extra 100 yards to the waterfall then about turned and wended our way home. It was a perfect picnic and walk and Little Feet only asked for a piggy back when 200 yards from the car……when I pointed out the car……I said ‘who can touch it first?’……… yet again she won!

Zahara de la Sierra

The year has flown by and now we are well into February – half term in fact and I had taken Monday off work (that’s twice I have mentioned that naughty word!) and as it was February, we decided we must have a Barbeque – the weather after all demanded it. This Barbeque demanded that we sit out until late drinking port (I don’t know if I have ever told you but I am partial to a little tipple now and again). This Barbeque also demanded that later on, upon moving inside, that I dance to the Locomotion…………but that is another story……….so with a mahoosive hangover on Monday morning we set out on our day tripping journey. 

Last year we had been to Sierra de Grazalema and were amazed at its natural beauty…….and we swore we would return. Could we do it as a day trip? Of course we could, that’s what the modern family adventurers do!  So off we went………….taking the most picturesque of routes up through Ronda (Didn’t we have a lovely time the day we went to Ronda?) and on into the Sierra de la Grazalema. We took the first opportunity to stop at a ‘Mirador’ (Viewing Point) and quaff a lot of coffee from the flask and nibble on some homemade cake. But we still had mountain roads to meander around and hills to climb over, climbing the Pass of Doves and through the forests of Spanish Fir and then the dramatic descent to Zahara de la Sierra.  In the distance, we saw the azure blue lake of Zahara mirroring the azure blue of the sky and not a cloud in sight – the guide book says that ‘Zahara is the most perfect of Andalucia’s fortified hill pueblos, a landmark for miles around, its red-tiled houses huddled round a church beneath a ruined castle on a stark outcrop of rock’.  It was cold in the wind. Well, we were up high but the sun was out, so when we entered into the village square, we were protected and before long we were settled at a cafe table and looking forward to our healthy portions of Tapas that we had ordered all stripped down to our T-Shirts. 

The square was declared a national monument in 1983 and was bustling with locals going about their everyday business like taking pans of food from homes to the bars and then sitting with their grandchildren and drinking sherry amid guffaws of laughter and excited conversation.  Post the hectic activity of town we needed to walk off our excess, so climbed to the pinnacle of the rocky outcrop around the castle. Here, my wife learned a very valuable lesson, in that the fruit of the local cactus has millions of fine sharp fibres that attack the unwary hand when plucking the fruit from its natural habitat! What a wonderful day out and well worth the drive…………………..and we were back home in time for tea and stickies!

Cordoba, Cordoba wherefore art thou Cordoba?

A pure bastardisation of a title that Shakespeare would be proud of, especially when immersed in such a literary gem as this blog! The reason I use it thus is because we have fallen in love with Cordoba.  We were staying at the NH Amistad hotel – which unfortunately TomTom didn’t recognise because there were no navigable roads to it – well there were, its just that navigable is the crux of the issue – the cobbled streets were just wide enough to cope and far better to let the hotel park the car in their car park – saves you the worry!  The hotel itself was a modern gem within an antique exterior and right bang in the middle of the Juderia (the Jewish Quarter).

Cordoba these days is a provincial capital and is apparently modestly prosperous but is a mere shadow of its past greatness.  Principally Cordoba is now famous for the Mezquita – the grandest and most beautiful mosque ever constructed by the Moors – it stands right in the centre of the city surrounded by the Juderia and is a building of extraordinary mystical and aesthetic power. On entering the courtyard early in the morning (to avoid the crowds) you are struck by the courtyard and the fountain and the light being captured by it but you are quickly drawn inside. The mosque was completed in the year 785 – yes – 785, and was the foible of a lost Damascan prince. Once inside you can lose yourself amongst the pillars and arches like you would lose yourself in a stone palm tree forest. We found ourselves circling and marvelling at the magnitude of what we were seeing. Then suddenly out of nowhere, plunged into the centre like a scimitar at the heart, is a Catholic Cathedral – a magnificent legacy of 17th Century engineering and architecture but yet again the foible of another King who later exclaimed ‘what have you done?’ when realising the damage that he had inflicted on the mosque. There was a service being conducted in the cathedral whilst we were there which casted a haunting sound out upon and under the arches, the scent of incense permeating our surroundings. The Mezquita gathered in its beauty and wonderment the longer we stayed – for every minute we spent there we could have stayed another – to understand what I am saying you must visit.  I can marvel at many places that I have been to – the Sydney Opera House – The Acropolis – Westminster Cathedral – magnificent examples of architecture and national buildings of importance – The Alhambra is maybe Spain’s jewel in the crown of a tourist attraction – but boy, have I been mesmerised by the Mezquita – that place is something else.  (Little Feet was not so enraptured, but the subsequent early morning trip round the city in a horse and cart was enough to put a smile on her face for the rest of the day!).

The atmosphere in the bars and cafes and streets of Cordoba struck us too.  We wandered and flip-flopped (it was 6 Deg C warmer than Gibraltar giving us a wondrous 25 Deg C in early March) our way around the labyrinth of plazaless streets – for it is patios that Cordoba is famous for.  Traditional Andalusian residential and historic buildings surrounding patios – lots of them – and in May they are decorated. Maybe we should go back to visit then – the flowers were not out when we went but we can only imagine the beauty they would bring to something we are already sold on.

Oh, and the breakfast in the hotel was superb: cheeses, hams, endless arrays of fresh fruit, fresh tostada with tomatoes and olive oil, figs and yoghurt, tortilla,  – although the Melon, Pear and Broccoli Juice wasn’t very morish (get it morish versus Moorish! Suit yourself!)

The Motive…..

The early part of 2012 has seen us as busy as the thousands of butterflies that we have seen around the Spring blossom with sailing trips to Africa, Golf, Parties, Barbeques and yes for the third and final time that word that is work (Uncle Trevor does not believe I do any? There may be others….) and the shared adventure continues apace with no sign of relenting.  The important word in the previous sentence is ‘shared’; Someone once said ’I don’t care how poor a man is but if he has family he is rich’ and both my wife and I feel as though we are millionaires every day that we wake.  Every trip we do always seems to have a reason or a motive;  Cordoba was for Mother’s Day and yes it may have been a week early but I am sure the Mummy in this house will remember her maginificent Mothers Day spent in Cordoba for many years to come.

 ”When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts.  A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child”-Sophia Loren

 

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