Never pass up a chance to go to Andalusia: the Cordoba edition.

Friend: Hey, if you are interested, you can fly for free to

Me: Awesome! Yes, I'll take it.

Friend: Great, it'll be on flights to

Me: When does it leave? I can get my bag right now. 

Friend: Don't you want to know where it goes?

Me: Does it matter? The answer is always going to be yes. But sure, where am I going?

Malaga. Through an arrangement with a Dutch low-cost carrier, my colleagues and I could go to Malaga for free. I had already been, some eleven years ago. Twice. The first time I stayed in the port city itself and the second, I used it as a jumping off point for Sevilla and Granada. Both times, I fell madly deeply in love with Andalusia, the southern region of Spain.

The food, the architecture, the climate- all of it made me feel instantly at home. There might be a genetic reason for this reaction. I did the 23 and me genetic test recently and I am 56.9% descended from the Canary Islands and Southern Spain. Or maybe I just took to it because it is such a beautiful and welcoming part of the world. Tomato tomatoe.

Presented with another chance to visit Andalusia, I decided to go to Cordoba. My reasons were twofold: I'd never been and I vaguely remembered seeing pictures of a really cool mosque. A little research revealed that the building I was thinking of is now a Cathedral, although it is still widely known as La Mezquita (or the Mosque).

My plan was simple. Land in Malaga, take the train to Cordoba and just wander around the first day. You don't want to peak too early with the Mosque, that would have to wait for day two.

Everything was going great. I checked into one of the best hostels I'd ever been to, the Cordoba Bed and Be. The location, on a busy pedestrian street, was perfect. The building itself is a 1933 gem by famed architect Felix Hernandez (who also happened to lead the restoration of La Mezquita). The vibe, with nightly complimentary sangria on the rooftop and communal dinners, was warm and inclusive. It was everything you want a hostel to. (Bed and) be. I loved it so much that I didn't even mind its 999 steps.

After getting a map and some tips from the guy that checked me in, I was ready to explore the city. His advice was simple. "Go get lost. Wander down all the little streets and alleyways. Don't worry about where you are going." I'd been training for this all my life. 

I turned one way and ran into Roman ruins.

Many little streets later, I came out onto La Plaza de las Tendillas, the city's principal square and the starting point for the next day's free walking tour.

Hey wait, is that a brewery? It was hot. I was thirsty so why not? I'm not a major hop head but I do know a little bit about beer so I was confounded by the bartender's insistence that I try their "ee-pah" Was this something new and specific to the region? It wasn't until he showed me the bottle that I realized ee-pah is what happens when you translate IPA to Spanish and then read it as one word.  Gotta say, though, they had a tasty ee-pah.

I returned to my wandering and promptly ran smack into the city's star attraction, the Mezquita-Catedral de Cordoba. Even from the outside, it was glorious with its Moorish arches and distinctive striped design.

I was in awe at the size and majesty of it all.  How fortunate was I to -hold up, is that the fucking line? The one that extends through the entire courtyard, out of onto the street and around the block. Oh hell no! This was going to take up my entire 2nd day. Was I going to have wake up at 6am to avoid this?

I walked away as quickly as I could and decided to console myself by buying a pair of funky earrings I'd seen in a store window. Still in shock, I asked the counter girl if the line is always that long. "Oh no, it's just that it's free today because of the processional floats but it's staying open until late tonight."

Unbeknownst to me, the next way, there were religious processions scheduled throughout the city. Each parish had built a gargantuan float featuring a life-sized Jesus diorama. At the appointed time, a bunch of men (I didn't see any women) would get under the skirt of the float and carry it throughout the city back to their home parishes while a bunch of other men played horns and drums.

La Mezquita was the designated staging area where all the floats would live until it was "go" time. Curious to see what the fuss was about, and knowing that it was free, I went back. The line was shorter and without the need for scanning of tickets, was moving pretty fast.

I don't have enough adjectives to adequately describe the splendor that is the interior, so hopefully this overload of photos will give you a slight idea.

The seemingly infinite lines made me feel like I had stumbled into an MC Escher painting.

Since I knew I would be returning the next day to do the audio tour and get a better idea of what was what, on this my first visit, I took some good advice and just allowed myself to get lost.

It was getting late and I'd been promised free sangria so, reluctantly, I left the mosque and returned to the hostel. I climbed the many steps to the rooftop and joined my fellow travellers. For the next two hours, about twenty of us sat around a communal table, exchanging stories and downing bowl after bowl of sangria. At one point, I had to stop the conversation and note that there were people of all ages just sitting around actually engaged and talking to each other.  Not one person, not a single one, was on their phone. I don't know about the mosque/church but this hostel works miracles.

Once the drinks were done, I looked at my watch and had an idea. A bunch of them had not yet been to La Mezquita. It was still open and free to get in. What happened next was inevitable. I basically cajoled and in some cases bullied a bunch of strangers into following me back. There were about a dozen takers and we arrived to find virtually no line.

I had come to see the Mosque and first day in, I'd seen it twice.

Day two, visit #3. I got there right as it opened, bought a ticket- no freebies that day- got my audio guide and spent a good two hours dividing my attention between the structure itself and the many processional floats.

Man alive, there were a lot of Jesii. There were probably 30 or so floats scattered throughout the cavernous halls.

And then there was the building itself with its revolving door of religions eras, each leaving its mark.

Given a chance to spend more time at La Mezquita,  I would have happily taken it but I had a free walking tour to get to. Although I had already covered a good amount of the city center, it is always great to get some context for what you are looking at. This was particularly true in the Jewish quarter, which best preserves the winding medieval feel of this ancient city.

Statue of Maimonides,  Jewish Philosopher, Astronomer and wearer of a lucky shoe. It is said that if you rub it, you will acquire his wisdom. (Note: spellcheck just had to correct me on the spelling of "acquire" so I don't think it worked)

La Plaza de la Corredera: one of Andalusia's largest square and 17th century site of bullfights and Inquisition burnings. Now,  a great place for cocktails and tapas.

I am certain that our guide went into great detail about the Roman bridge, which spans the Guadalquivir River. Surely, there was something about the original bridge being built in the 1st century. There was probably some talk about the Calahorra tower which sits opposite La Mezquita.

However, all I heard was "yada, yada, yada...Game of Thrones"  What now?!!! Could it be? Had I had blindly stumbled onto a GoT filming location? Well, kind of. The actors were never actually on the bridge (they were shot in a soundstage) and the bridge got some pretty heavy CGI treatment but it still totally counts. I wasn't on the Roman Bridge, I was strutting across the Long Bridge of Volantis!!

After the tour, I took the guide's recommendation and went to visit the Alcazar of the Christian Monarchs. This UNESCO world heritage site has quite the sordid history. Originally a palace for the Moorish caliphate, it was taken over by the Christians during the reconquista- sounds like they did this a lot in Cordoba- and eventually became home to Ferdinand and Isabella who used as base from which to carry on the inquisition. The Arab baths became torture rooms and prison cells. The Alacazar was also the place where they met a young upstart, Christopher Columbus, who was setting off on a wacky year-abroad expedition.

Today, the big draw is not the castle itself, which aside from some well-preserved mosaics is no big deal, but the lavish gardens that are perfect for strolling on a warm summer day.

Or in my case, for sprinting. I had already spent a couple of hours in La Mezquita, done a walking tour and had a leisurely Spanish lunch. I got to the Alcazar late in the day and did not realized that at 4pm, a woman whose ancestors must have run the original Inquisition torture program, would come out to the garden and start screaming like a banshee about closing time.  Fortunately, there are a lot of blind spots in the garden so by zig-zagging from tree to tree, I was able to get a quick look around. But seriously, that lady was the worst.

It was just as well because it was almost time to get the godly party started. Back at La Mezquita, crowds had gathered to watch the processions. One by one, each float would leave and head back in the direction of the parishes they had come from. Practically speaking, that meant that the entire city was a parade route.

I watched from the exterior steps of La Mezquita for awhile and I have to admit it was actually very moving. I am on record for being 100% that godless heathen but I could easily imagine, if I had been a peasant during medieval times, without the benefit of science or an education, how this spectacle would have easily brought me over to Team Jesus. The simple but powerful music combined with the passion of the burly men who were taking turns carrying this thing was truly a thing to behold. It is considered a great honor to be a float carrier and many of the men would burst into tears when it was their turn to swap in or out for the next group.

How does this all work in a city whose streets are not too wide to begin with? Very carefully.

That there is not religious roadkill throughout the city is truly a testament to both the float wranglers and the ability of fat people to squeeze into tiny spaces.

The next morning, I had to be up early to catch both a bus back to Malaga and a flight back to Rotterdam. Between the 3 visits to La Mezquita, lots of aimless rambling, free sangria at the world's coolest hostel and pretty much non-stop eating, the time had gone by ridiculously fast. Perhaps it was the 56.9% Spaniard in me that did not want to leave. Or maybe it is just because the South of Spain is so damn cool.