Standing at the crossroads of history

One of the pleasures of travel is the opportunity to spend time in the confluence of history — a reminder that people, places, cultures, civilizations are always in flux.

Empires rise and fall; culture and language are born, only to disappear into the mists of time; cuisines are enriched by contact and trade with travellers and those just passing through (especially when passing through means sticking around for a few centuries).

Andalusia in southern Spain is such a place that stands at the crossroads of history. Scratch the surface of this multi-textured region of the Iberian peninsula and it is easy to see history at work here. Cordoba, a lively city on the banks of the Guadalqivir river, was once a Roman city during the time of the Republic and later, after being captured by the Moors in the 8th century AD, the capital of the Islamic caliphate of Cordoba, a region that included most of the Iberian peninsula. Signs of the various rulers are abundant in the city’s architecture, an enticing blend of Roman and Moorish arches and quintessential Spanish tiles. Fountains can be found throughout the city, a legacy of the water-loving Moorish populace, while the famed patios (interior courtyard gardens), built in the Arab style, provide a welcome cool retreat in the hot summer months.

Roman Bridge across the Guadalquivir river

In the 10th century, Cordoba, at the height of the caliphate, was the most populous city in the world, as well as a center for education under the rule of Al Hakam II, who established several libraries, in addition to the medical schools and universities in existence at this time. Developments in mathematics and astronomy flourished during this period, when the city of Cordoba was the intellectual center of Europe. Along with the great Mosque of Cordoba (Mezquita), the city boasted 3,000 mosques, magnificent palaces and what was then the largest library in the world.

Cordoba Mezquita 

In 1236, Cordoba was retaken by King Ferdinand III and the Mezquita converted into a Catholic church. The most significant alteration was the construction of a nave in the middle of the  structure, built after the go-ahead from Charles V, king of Castile and Aragon, who, when he travelled to Cordoba to view the result reportedly stated that  “they have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something you can find in any city.”

Such are the lessons of history — viewed through the lens of future centuries — that it may be a good idea to leave glorious works of architecture alone. That said, much of the spectacular architecture of the Mezquita remains intact, including the maze of interior Moorish arches and the courtyard gardens filled with orange trees.

Speaking of orange trees….if you travel to Andalusia in the spring you will be welcomed by the intoxicating scent of orange blossoms wafting through the warm air. Mixed with the occasional cloud of perfume rising up from the myriad jasmine plants growing all over the region, the scent is so uplifting it will raise even the darkest mood….making Andalusia a wonderful place to visit when you need to shake off the dregs of winter!

Sleepy Jerez de la Frontera, with its charming train station, is another interesting place on the history map. Famous as a wine-growing region, particularly for distilled and fortified types such as sherry (being an Anglicization of Xeres or Jerez). Jerez has been a centre of wine-making since it was first introduced to Spain by the Phoenicians in 1100 BC. After the Moors conquered the region in the 8th century AD, they introduced distillation, leading to the develop of brandy and other fortified wines.

Jerez de la Frontera train station – interior

Jerez de la Frontera train station – exterior

Wine production continued unabated through five centuries of Arab rule. In the 10th century however, Al Hakam II (the Caliph of Cordoba during Moorish rule) ordered the vineyards to be destroyed. Quick-thinking citizens of Jerez appealed to the Caliph to reverse his ruling on the grounds that the raisins produced in the vineyard also provided food to the empire’s legion of soldiers.

Luckily for sherry lovers everywhere, the Caliph spared the majority of the vineyards, and sherry-making continues to be an important source of revenue for the city.

In spite of the current economic crisis — which can be felt all over the region — life appears to be going on more or less as usual, much as it has been for centuries. As we stand on the crossroads of history, acknowledging time’s long reach allows us to stop for a moment in the midst of our worldly cares, to lift our nose from the grindstone, set aside the burdens of daily life and remember all those who have come before. Scientific discoveries made, empires built and lost, libraries and universities and mosques and cathedrals constructed… and then fallen into dust.

So let’s enjoy the days of wine and roses (and orange blossoms!) while we can, as they are all too fleeting, and — like so much of what we think to be an unchanging world — ‘this too shall pass’.

Be where your feet are

There are three wants which never can be satisfied: that of the rich, who want something more; that of the sick, who want something different; and that of the traveler, who says, Anywhere but here.   -Ralph Waldo Emerson

When we’re very young – and everything about the world is new and exciting — it’s almost always the case that we are happy to be exactly where we are in that moment, especially if we’re on vacation,  no matter where it is, so long as we are freed from the normal routines of the day.

As our young self gleefully dips a toe into the surf on a summer afternoon, we’re not wishing to be anywhere else, no matter that the beach is small and pebbly and the cottages lining the shore are uninspiring and poorly constructed. Our only wish is that the day will last forever. That we can remain right there on that beach till the end of time, with the sand between our toes and every fiber of our being drinking in the heat of the sun, the smell of salt, the calls of gulls in the sky.

Fast forward several decades and the chance is high that our lives and travels have taken on a ‘been there, done that’ quality. We may even find ourselves peering out at the world through jaded eyes. Oh no, not this dump, not again.

‘Anywhere but here.’

But anything we encounter can be a source of wonder, or at least amusement, if we allow it. So in my travels – and in life – I’ve begun the practice of staying in the moment, of embracing whatever experience I happen to be having, whether it could be labeled as ‘good’ or ‘bad’. No place is a dump if you see it through the eyes of a child; even if it’s not what you expected, because everything will appear before you like a freshly minted penny, glinting in the sunlight.

Like many travelers, I’ve been guilty of falling into the trap of the idea that just over the hill or around the bend is a more picturesque town, a better restaurant, or a café filled with more sophisticated people than the one I’m sitting in.’

Thinking that there’s a prettier, cooler, more exciting, or more relaxing place than the one we happen to be in robs us of the experience we are actually having in that moment. In our overstimulated world, it has become the norm to look for something better, to be ‘anywhere but here’ as Emerson so aptly puts it of the never-to-be-satisfied want of travellers everywhere.

Make a pact with yourself: wherever your travels bring you, ‘be where your feet are’, feel the ground under your soles, even if rain is pummeling the streets into a slurry of mud and the restaurant you travelled so long to get to is closed and the promised sea view from your hotel is blocked by a spectacularly ugly high rise. Anywhere but here, you might be thinking as you make a beeline for the nearest bus or train station. But, caveat viator, that place over the hill or around the corner you are sure is so much better may be a dead end after all.

So stay. Smile at the absurdity of best laid plans…laugh at the rain and the mud and the blocked sea view. That very spot may turn out to be your best travel memory ever.

Flying without a Net

The guidebook industry is booming, and no wonder, as most of us wouldn’t think of traveling without a guidebook to aid us on our way. How else will we know what to see, what to do, where to sleep?

But traveling with a guidebook can be something of a trap. When we plan our itinerary, accommodation, and eating choices based on the views and opinions of other people, we risk becoming one of the herd, of missing out on serendipitous discoveries, or blazing a trail that suits our own particular tastes and desires.

They’re seductive though, aren’t they, those densely packed tomes with their pretty pictures and peppy travel suggestions? See this, don’t miss that. It can be comforting to let someone else make decisions for us.

I get the allure. In fact, on my first trip to southern France, many many years ago, I slavishly followed the suggested itineraries and advice of one of those slim green Michelin guides, making sure to give full attention to anything graced with three stars (even if it meant racing around Provence in a surreal game of ‘Beat the Clock’). As an inexperienced traveler on my very first trip to France, though, I wanted to make sure I didn’t overlook anything important. Surely if I missed that one ‘must see’ village the trip would be a total loss!

Fast forward twenty years and what I remember from that trip is not the names of towns or churches or vistas, but the smell of hot stone in the late August sunshine; the taste of a ripe Cavaillon melon; the whir of cicadas; vast fields of lavender, sweetly smelling and humming with bees; the long reach of history.

In spite of that lesson ( that it’s the experience of place we’ll remember, rather than the sites we saw or the hotel we slept in), it took me a long time to travel without a guidebook in hand. The world is a big place, after all. If all you have is a map, where do you start?

But in the spirit of embracing uncertainty and ambiguity in all aspects of my life, I’ve recently decided to ditch the guide book.

While it can feel scary traveling without signposts and the usual ‘thumbs up’ reviews of those who’ve been before me, it’s also wildly exhilarating.  Like the moment the training wheels were removed from your first bike and you were obliged to ride on your own. Wobbly, yes, but oh so fabulous to be moving forward on your own steam.

Try this: on your next trip, throw caution to the winds and fly without a net. Jump in, follow your instincts. Eat in restaurants packed with locals and sleep in hotels that strike your fancy. Climb to the top of the nearest hill, breathe the air and take in the view. Isn’t it gorgeous? Others have been there before you, of course (let’s not forget the long reach of history), but for this trip, in this moment, you have discovered this wonderful spot all on your own.