The Cordoban jaunt

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Friday, September 16, 2005
After an early rise, the history of Spanish Art class, along with a bunch of students who just wanted to go, met at the base of the Torre del Oro. We loaded up into a much nicer charter bus than the one I rode from Cuetzalan, Mexico to Puebla, Mexico the summer before last (nobody had to stand up or hold their chickens under their arms), and headed for Córdoba, the Western capital of Islam in the 9th-13th centuries. We went to view the grand Mezquita (mosque) of Córdoba, among other things. This massive construction is currently a Catholic cathedral, built in the middle of a huge Mozarab mosque, on top of a Visigothic church, on top of Roman ruins. Since I got to write an oversized paper on the influence of Islam in Córdoba last year, I’ll just steal a paragraph from the paper instead of waxing original:
“As the western center of Islam at the time, Córdoba shone brightly while most of Western Europe groveled in the Dark Ages, literally. According to historical records, by the 10th century Córdoba had lighted, as well as many paved, streets. At its most expansive point, the city purportedly had 3,000 mosques, besides churches and synagogues. Due to strict Muslim cleanliness regulations, Cordoba possessed over 900 public baths or ‘Hammams’ at its zenith. While most of Europe rarely bathed through the 8th-12th centuries, and even frowned upon such habits, Cordovan citizens bathed at least once a week. Some of these baths still operate today, having been rebuilt as most all of the originals were destroyed during the Reconquista. While Córdoba could not boast the theatres, academic and public forums for debate, or performance art of Greco-Roman culture, the absence of these things created something just as valuable: more time at home. This had the unique consequence of encouraging book production. Stewart states that in Córdoba “women as well as men became famous copyists” (Alhambra 62). While even most of Europe’s leadership groveled in illiteracy, according to Stewart, “nearly everyone in al-Andalus could read and write” (67). Expected to be able to read and memorize Qur’anic texts, the citizens constructed “a broad system of primary education [that] culminated in the University of Córdoba” (67). According to most historians, at its height, the library in Córdoba boasted over 400,000 books.
OK, enough history lessons. Córdoba is a magnificently historical city. But what I liked about Córdoba was not the history (that’s what Billy likes the most); I loved two things even more: the view and the food.
The mezquita was constructed over nearly a millennium (including the eventual Catholic cathedral addition) boasting revisions and additions from several Muslim emirates and caliphs through the century. Containing a forest of some 800 Mozarab horseshoe arches vaulted upon blue, red and grey stone and marble columns, the structure seems impossible at first glance. You keep looking for the mirrors that mak it seem to go on forever. At one point, for nearly 70 years, this massive structure even played host to both the Christian and Muslim populations of the city, on separate sides. That could be also be attributed to a strange ancient tolerance formed by a combination of a very liberal Muslim government, mixed with the ulterior necessity for exacting high taxes from non-Muslim citizens. Though, as we’ve learned in history class here, the “tolerance” was no more tolerant than that which would be afforded by the Inquisition of the “Christian” government several hundred years later. In the back we even saw a column with a small cross carved into it, which supposedly was carved by the fingernails of a saint who was chained to it for sometime while awaiting trial for blaspheming the prophet Muhammad.
The grand mihrab (the alcove that represents the divine presence, located on the Mecca facing wall) attains to a level of craftsmanship that prompts little more than guppy-like open mouths, especially if one’s gaze follows upwards towards the gold and marble mosaic cupola in the ceiling, built by Byzantine craftsmen sent to aid in the construction of the mosque as a gift from the emperor of Constantinople. Elsewhere in the city we took a look around the Royal Palace (Real Alcázar) of the Catholic Kings. The gardens there definitely define postcard perfect landscaping and fountains, almost as spectacular as Las Vegas (ok once you stop cringing, read that that was just a joke), and substantially older. The significant number of brides and grooms that passed through them to get pictures taken attested to even the local consideration of their magnificence.
I and six other students even got the opportunity to eat lunch at the Caballo Rojo, which I used as an interview source for the above mentioned paper when it came to Moorish (Medieval Andalusian Muslim) culinary influences. It was somewhat disconcerting when the waiter showed me the picture of Ronald Reagan eating at our table, complete with four glasses at each seat, and another photo of some Japanese emperor looking guy. As it turns out, most of the menu was more than somewhat out of our price range for a light lunch (for crying out loud the table came with ‘free’ appetizers and sangria). But as they are known for having the best honeyed lamb in all of Spain (a very Moorish dish); I went ahead and ordered it to split with a friend. Not every day you’re in a place like that anyway. After a touring a few more quaint little streets and alleys and buying a few souvenirs, we hopped back on the bus for home.

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