Years ago I fell in love with Córdoba Cathedral. My 9th grade world history book had a small picture of the cathedral by the section discussing the Moorish influence on the Iberian peninsula and the Reconquista. I cannot explain why this picture imprinted on my heart and others did not. I can see pictures of things like the Taj Mahal and wish to go there but not in the same way that I wanted to see the Cathedral in Córdoba Thus, for this trip, I had one must see, that wondrous grand mosque converted to a cathedral.

I booked a half day tour in the city as well as train tickets to travel the short distance away, merely a little under an hour. Unfortunately, a few weeks after I booked the tour, the company cancelled; a religious ceremony mid-day prevented them from offering their tour that day. Thankfully, this ceremony did not prevent visits at other times through the day so I made my plans. Nothing would prevent me from getting to that cathedral.

Thankfully, the train tickets I had originally booked enabled me to obtain an adequate amount of sleep after the late night, or more specifically early morning. I grabbed my things, some coffee and breakfast and headed to the train station with a first stop in the ticket office. I gave myself way too much time in Córdoba so I purchased a new earlier return. Thanks to the last learning experience, I knew not to expect a cost free transaction. The short distance meant a small price. That plus a friendly ticket agent made for a pleasant experience to start the day.

I arrived in Córdoba around ten that morning. Armed with my walking tour and my phone – I had activated Travel Pass the previous day to with directions at some point. I headed towards the historic quarter, my principal destination.

Even though the day had barely begun, southern Spain felt very much like the South in July just without the humidity. While taking my time as I strolled, I kept to the shade as much as possible.

My self-guided tour started at the ar end of the historic quarter on the opposite side from where I started. That way, I would have a shorter walk back to the train station from my final stop, the Cathedral of course.

I headed first onto the Roman Bridge of Córdoba, originally a Roman bridge (as evidenced by the name) , the current structure rebuilt by the Moors during the 8th century.

As I walked to the bridge, I passed directly alongside the Cathedral without even realizing, a testament to the building’s original purpose as a Moorish mosque.

Once on the bridge, I spent less time than I would normally since the bridge afforded no shade from the relentless July sun.

I took plenty of pictures, however, of the river rushing around trees growing in the ruins of the old Roman bridge before I retreated to a shop just on the other side of the bridge so that I could buy batteries for my camera and something to drink.

After my refreshment break, I wandered back into the historic quarter stopping by the Tower Gate, a medieval city gate, passing the largest synagogue in the city as well as a statue of Moses ben Maimon, or Maimonides in the Jewish quarter marked by those same small ceramic tiles I first saw in Toledo, and considering a quick tour of Córdoba’s Alcazar having enjoyed Segovia’s so much. After standing in the ticket line for ten minutes without the line advancing at all, I decided to content myself with a view of the exterior, not wanting to miss my chance at seeing the main event. I headed to one last stop before stopping at the cathedral to purchase my ticket.

I strolled down la Avenida de Flores, the Avenue of Flowers and took plenty of pictures for Mom. Almost as soon as I wondered if I could find a flower themed magnet for her. Almost as soon as I had that thought, I spotted several that fit the bill exactly.

After strolling through the flowers, I walked back across the street and into the courtyard in the Cathedral.Once I did, I stopped and stood in awe. I hadn’t even entered the cathedral yet and I already fell head over heels in love. This courtyard held an orchard of fruit trees, carefully spaced in rows leading us to the entrance. I felt almost if I had stepped into the world of Aladdin. I could not wait to go into the cathedral but I soon discovered that I had no choice. They had just stopped selling tickets at 11:30 and would not begin selling again until 1:30 when the cathedral reopened after the religions ceremony. Even though momentarily disappointed, I made the best of my time by playing Wizards Unite while looking for somewhere inexpensive to eat lunch and hangout, hopefully in air conditioning. Ironically, I ended up at Burger King, a “restaurant” I never frequent in the States.

Finally, the time came for the main event. I packed up my things about fifteen minutes before the stated reopening time for the ticket booths; I did not want to miss a single second of the hour I gave myself to visit before heading back to the train station. Everything worked better than I expected. Only one person waited ahead of me in the ticket queue. Even better, I did not have to wait to enter behind the large group queued up near the door; I got to enter twenty minutes before two in the afternoon, the stated opening time.

I cannot possibly put into words the utterly sublime feeling that flooded through me as I stepped into the wide open space. Here before my eyes stood the intricate echoing red and white arches that stole my heart all those years ago. I took slow steps through that chamber, savoring the vacancy around me brought on serendipitously through the clearing of the cathedral for the religious ceremony and my eager attempt to enter as soon as possible.

The time I spent inside the former Mosque mark the absolute highlight of my entire trip. Mere footsteps from the door I walked over plexiglass and stopped, thrilled to see ruins below of the 8th or 9th century church first built on the site.

As I wandered the perimeter of the cathedral, I perused historical displays of preserved Islamic writing and other artifacts that survived la Reconquista before moving on to wander past nearly innumerable small chapels with an incredible variety of artistic styles of ornamentation.

This cathedral stuns the observer with its size and scope not to mention the iconic red and white arches.

Just before I left, I stopped and placed my hand on one of the pillars. I glanced up at the red and white arches and soaked in all of the history in that place, physically connecting myself through a hand on the pillar. As I did so, a shiver of incredulity ran down my spine. I told myself to believe what my mind found incomprehensible, that I finally stood in that picture, beneath one of those incredible arches.

After grounding myself in context, I took a deep breath, turned, and walked out the door. Throughout the walk back to the train station, I could not wipe the smile from my face. Even the afternoon heat could not faze me although I did purchase a cold drink as soon as I entered the station to wait for my train back to Seville.

The rest of the day passed in a state close to bliss. If I didn’t know better, I might say that I got high on history. Whatever the case, I had a restful afternoon. Whatever the case, I had a restful afternoon and evening attempting to catch up on journaling and preparing for the final adventure of the trip, the journey to the southernmost tip of Spain and the 12th country of my trip.