Espana Sola. Churros and Weekend Preparations at Plaza la Corredera

Plaza la Corredera .I’m just around the corner from here

It’s only Thursday but there’s already an air of expectation, and more movement in this plaza. I was woken this morning by what sounded like major demolition, but it was only two huge trucks, a large trolley staked high with crates and two men trying to manoeuvre the trucks in the narrow space while walkers squeezed past. The two men were issuing directions to each other.

My room looks down on the passage to the Plaza de la Corredera and actually I love it, and the sounds of people passing, buying ice creams in the place directly opposite or just talking, and arguing later at night.

Looking down on passing life

But I suspect another level of activity is on its way for the weekend. There’s what could be a stage set up and the large TV outside where people watch soccer games will be on. Oh well.

They must have made it into the plaza as there are trucks here being unloaded.

A faint sun is showing and it’s a bit warmer. I’ve jobs to do today. In the meantime I’m drinking my cafe con leche and eating churros.

I’m also looking more closely at this bar .

Don’t know exactly but relates to story in the cutting about a past owner and poet
So Maripaz is famous for its churros

I started writing this as I am flooded with stories and photos from a full day yesterday . I’m still processing the Mesquita. But even what starts off as simple writing twists itself round, or maybe I twist it around as I take in more; so I’m stopping now and not exploring the stories here of Garcia Calvo and the churros ? that seduced him or “ with what Garcia portrays her.. “ ( the danger of only getting bits of the language). Enough that this Bar Maripaz was established in 1993 and the churros, I guess originally baked by Garcia Calvo, have been revived with this plaza ( which dates from 1600s).

Clapping in La Corredera. The music has started and the sun is bright. Off to do my jobs before exploring some more of this maze of a city, and the edges of the thickly layered stories.

Espana Sola: An Evening in Cordoba

Well I’m breaking one of my rules . Just because I’m so excited to have found my dream Spanish accomodation, and it’s just 2 minutes away from here where I’m having a second, very good, red wine. One of my rules is only one drink at night. So I can find my way back to my room and work the many locks on the way.

But this tavern was appealing . I was returning from a long walk to the Puente Romana in Cordoba and tired of pan y queso in what look like cheaper bars ( hard being vegetarian in Spain). I thought well why not ? This will make a good blog. So here’s my food, red wine and two tapas:

A fish combination ( not fried) and ensaladilla Rusa

And delicious. No queso, not too much pan and even the potato salad with the exotic name is tasty. E12 in total for decent food, good red wine and the luxury of observing . The waiters are smiley and healthy looking, the clientele mainly Spanish speaking . It’s 10.30 now and the place has filled up fast .

On the way here I walked to the Puente de Romana and over the other side, back over the rather murky Guadalquivir river, around the Medquita area heaving with tourists and back to the Plaza de la Corredera where I’m staying for the rest of this week.

I looked in at a few of the patios. The Fiesta de la Patios Cordoba is on for a week. There are 6! routes to follow so I’ll be busy .

But this Taberna is full right now and it’s time for me to go. I pay the bill, grab a bottle of water from the place opposite, check out the jazz place next door, and walk to my place. Push the main door as instructed, insert key in lock of next door. Easy. Up the stairs to third floor. Remember the hidden step just in front of my door.

I still feel quesy on stairs
But these are mild compared to the stairs in Quentar
And key works first go

I’m into my room.

I can’t resist a look outside on the patio . People passing below and voices. But the moon is out and it’s time to sleep .

Diario de Espana Sola:A Purple Haze Descending

I never ever want to see purple again. Maybe it’s lilac, or violet, but unfortunately my shirt and jacket hanging around this small but clean room match the decor. It’s a cloudy day in Ronda and no sun streaming through the window to lift the shadows. So I’m sinking into the haze.

I’m not really complaining? This is just one moment on my solo journey and, solo or not, rooms are a matter of a lottery. Hotel de Los Reyes has an 8 on Booking.com. and is comfortable, clean, has pleasant staff and only Las Llaves to ONE lock, my room . But that room makes a good photo for my blog.

My purple room in Hotel de Los Reyes Ronda

Later :

This set out to be a series of entries , recounting travel experiences from the perspective of a solo older female writer, in a country which she has always held close to her heart. Sola Espana. So I’m reflecting as I go .Not a real travelogue. Dear reader, if you’re reading this, your narrator is struggling at times .

But I’ve left that purple room this afternoon, metaphorically. I’ve stopped worrying about a message from the next accomodation and re -reading the reviews . I’ve successfully found a bank machine that didn’t chew up my travel card, bought lunch at the supermercado, found out how to share my posts on social media easily. And had cafe con leche and tostada at a very quiet Spanish bar away from this busy centre.

E3 for breakfast , and pleasant service

The only job I have left is to book my train back to Cordoba on Monday.

So this room is brightening and the sun is out, the cold wind has lessened. It’s still purple, or lilac, and I’m still me. But another fear gone. And I’m off to explore a 13 C to 17C palace, Palacio Mondragon and its gardens at the top of a cliff overlooking Ronda valley.

And here I am on my way

Espana Sola. On the Road Again. But the Train Road; and Not a Kerouac Experience

Sitting in the train cafe gulping down a cafe con leche after a wended way from my accomodation the opposite side of Cordoba, I’m pondering again. My last blog was about fear and confronting change (On Being Brave….). More on this theme.

My Cordoba place. Bye
And thank you Pilar for your your kind welcome in your muy hermosa casa

This blog will not have many photos.I have been preoccupied with getting my rucksack down the steep stairs safely, unlocking doors, finding my way, and, now, watching for train times and sudden changes .

I just looked at other people in this station cafe and they seem as harassed as I feel. Only many of them have those wheelie suitcases they’ve dragged all the way along the cobbled streets of Cordoba. All tentatively ordering a coffee and eyes on the departures board glimpsed outside. All well dressed, mostly.

So has travelling changed or is it just that I’m older so find it more stressful/ difficult/ time consuming ? To begin at the beginning of my journey today : just to get to this platform no 5:

To return to my account of a typical morning departure. I won’t bother with the tale of negotiating the lethal staircase down from my otherwise quaint attic room with a backpack. I’m in good time ( allowing double expected time to walk the twisting disguised streets to the opposite end of Cordoba). There are now 3 doors to unlock before I head off. Not very good at this as I have to try each key in each lock.Yay, I’m out and now I’m finding my way with the help of Maps. A few wrong turns but I follow my nose. And there I am at Cordoba Train station. On time. Check board. On time. Check board. Delayed .Check board. Still same time. Check platform number again. Check ticket. Coffee.

And thats as far as I’ve got today. I’ve found the correct carriage. Some of them disguise their number behind an open sliding door. Correct seat. Ronda here I come.

Diario de Espana Sola: Of Tiles and Fountains, Food and Mountains ( a week ago)

Only I’m not really solo this week. My cousin from UK has joined me for the week and it’s been lots of talking and eating and drinking wine. We’re sharing reminiscences of our families . Here in the Arabic town of Quentar in the Sierra Nevada mountains an hour by bus from Granada we are comparing stories , speculating about family secrets and laughing through a few glasses of wine.

So here we are in this really special town.

I love this broken fountain

Walking the narrow streets between the whitewashed walls, every angle is a picture book illustration of the prettiest town wherever….. only there are not many tourists here. It seems some people work from home and others commute into Granada. This is a lived in place with 3 bars, a small supermercado, and a 13C church , which is yet to be opened .

And here we are in Calle Rio ,Quentar

We have also been walking . Everywhere is up. We went on a few circular walks, some better marked than others. I managed not to slither and fall on the way down .

Clare’s Revenge for a photo I took of her.
Well I did take a photo of a person !!

After a few short walks , we decided to walk most of Stage 9 of the Mozarabe. Bus to the small town of Dubar and we walked into Granada, about 15km. Thankfully we started early as it was a hot day and the last bit seemed interminable . Where is that splendid view of the Alhambra ?

The Mozarabe
An old monastery on the way
Finally a glimpse of the Alhambra

And we walked straight into a bar at the bottom of Sacromonte, for a Coke zero.

More about Granada later,

PS :

And the Quentar church was opened for mass on Sunday. An impressive service with the small congregation speaking or singing all the responses.

As we were leaving Clare noticed a woman re/ lighting the lamp outside a small building with a cross. She showed us inside the what she said was originally a 13C hermitage. Saint Sebastian ( c263 BC) holds pride of place in the beautifully tended space, fresh flowers alongside a a simple altar. The martyr looks upward with a spear through his side . He is the patron Saint of Quentar and a group of women look after the hermitage all year. The big celebration is in September : the. Battle between the Moros and Christians and the saint is brought out for that re -enactment of an old , harsh event in Spain’s history.

And you can read about Quentar here