March 30 - Cordoba
Here we are stuck in Cordoba with no money! Mike was certain that the banks would be open this morning, but he has returned with news that they are not. He also said we could cash travelers cheques at the train station but we cannot. I am angry with him for being a know-it-all dork, at myself for forgetting my VISA card PIN (not that I can use it when the banks are closed) and not stashing away enough cash, and at this stupid country that allows its banks to close for five consecutive days to appease the Catholic Church.
He, in turn, is angry at me for not being ready to move on when he returns, but we are just taking out our anger uselessly on each other. He is no more ready to move out than I am. He is still packing when I set out at 11:20 to see what I can do. I leave my bags at the reception desk and seek out the larger hotels. Two hotels within the walled part of the city would not do an exchange. The Hotel Melia outside the walls keeps me waiting for the better part of an hour before allowing me to exchange 200 German marks.
Now I am back in the lobby of the hotel we are leaving, waiting for Mike. I have exchanged enough that he doesn’t need to, but I have sent him to line up at the youth hostel to get a cheaper room there. Fifteen or so noisy youths that kept us up last night are checking out too. I can’t imagine the youth hostel will be noisier than last night. Fortunately this is a lay-over day. 
Mike returns without a room, but suggests we move our stuff over to the hostel and wait some more. I am feeling better about things now with money in my pocket and time to having had time to cool down. After we stow out stuff at the hostel we go for a brief lunch and return to wait some more. 
Finally a room comes available, and it is worth the wait. This is a new youth hostel, the nicest we have ever been in. It’s bright and clean, and there are only the two of us sharing the room. We have our own private shower and two meals included for only 1540 pesados.
Mike and I go our separate ways to explore the town. Cordoba is gorgeous, more steeped in history than Sevilla. The day is pleasant, perfect for taking pictures. I walk around the old walled town and visit the famous Moorish mosque, the Mezquita, with its colourful arcade of arches and its beautiful gardens. When the city fell to the Catholics in the 1500s, they carved a hole in the centre of this architectural masterpiece and inserted a cathedral. The combination is totally bizarre. I walk over the first century Roman bridge over the Guadalquivir from the Puerta de Puente to the Tower of Calahorra on the far side.
Our room is empty when I return. I nap, take a shower and sketch out a plan for the next three weeks. Mike shoots holes in my plan when he returns, saying there are too many options to consider to make solid plans. He has been through this area with his family in a car before, and doesn’t like my plan to climb the mountains to visit Ronda, which Michelin rates as a top-level, 3-star attraction. “There’s a lot of gear shifting involved, even for a car,” he tells me. I am willing to try it though, even if it means cycling apart from him for three days while he visits northern Morocco. We still have a few days to think about it. Meanwhile, he agrees to contact possible Servas hosts in Almeria, Alicante, Valencia and Barcelona. We plot out possible youth hostels in on the south and east coasts of Spain too. This planning exercise has me excited and in the best mood it days, certainly a big improvement from this morning. I write a letter to my parents before our evening meal. Afterwards, around 10:30, Mike goes to bed and I take a short walk to buy more postcards, mail my letter and have an ice cream cone.
PHOTO 1: street scene in Cordoba, with cathedral
PHOTO 2: Cordoba cathedral
PHOTO 3: La Mesquita
PHOTO 4: flower shop of street of old town
PHOTO 5: Roman bridge and Mesquita behind
PHOTO 6: Puerta de Puenta, by Roman Bridge
PHOTO 7: Tower of Calahorra, other end of Roman bridge
PHOTO 8: curious onlookers
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