Tricia’s alarm went off once again at 9, and we went downstairs to make ourselves some oatmeal. We had just a little technical difficulties, as someone had set the power to low and it took us several times through to realize why the oatmeal wasn’t cooking. The Independent Traveler Hostel has a cute little porch next to the kitchen where we ate in the cool morning air.
Our first stop that morning was to the Cordoban Alcozar (castle). Upon arriving, we briefly debated whether we should spend the 4 Euros ($6) to see it, having just seen the Segovian Alcozar and the Toledan Alcazar, but eventually decided we were in Europe to spend our money and we bought two tickets. Immediately upon entering, we were glad we’d gone - we were greeted by a magnificent garden, complete with fruit trees, flowers, fountains, statues, and pools. We spent nearly an hour just wandering the grounds and taking pictures. We also contemplated jumping into a pool, as the farther south we go the warmer it gets.
The museum was actually pretty interesting. It had been built over the site of an ancient theater that was destroyed in an earthquake in the third century. There were a ton of ruins, including part of the staircase up to the balcony seating and also part of the balcony itself which fell when the support crumbled. There was also a huge drainage system to drain away sewage, rainwater, and other runoff. The theater was only discovered in 1994, but it could hold 15000 spectators and is one of the largest in Europe. In other parts of the museum we saw tons of crumbling Romanesque statues, sculptures, and tilework from the history of Cordoba. We also once again tried to get into the library on the third floor of the building, and we were once again chased off by the museum guards.
Since it was once again siesta time and everything was closed, we went off in search of lunch. Back at the Plaza, we looked through all the menus at the places recommended to us by Kevan at the hostel. At one place, Rabo de Toro (bull’s tail) was listed as only being 2 Euros, but when we went inside, the menu at the table listed it at 14 Euros. We went back outside and pointed this out to a waiter, who pulled a chef over, and they discussed it at length. They finally decided that the ‘1’ was missing in front of the 2, and it should have said 12 Euros, and besides this was an old menu and the prices had gone up.
We decided to eat at this restaurant anyway, and sat down at a table inside since there were none available outside. We ordered Flamenquin, which we had been told was basically deep fried ham, “like a corndog, but less processed.” The waiter asked us, “algun mas?” (What else?) And we said nada. And to drink? Nada. This was shaping up to be another restaurant where the waitsttaff hated us. J
The waiter left with our tiny order, but soon returned with a bread basket with one bun and some breadsticks (one meal - one piece of bread). A minute later, he delivered a little tapa plate of olives. And when we’d finished the bread, they brought us more. So we decided that in spite of our rocky beginning, they liked us after all.
The Flamenquin was as described - pieces of ham tightly rolled into a hot dog-shape and then deep-fried. However, the plate also came with a bit of salad and French fries, which I wasn’t expecting and which was very nice. Tricia liked the Flamenquin a lot, as she is a big fan of corn dogs. I thought it was just alright.
Afterward we stopped off at the Jewish synagogue. Built in 1315, it is one of three synagogues left in Spain and is largely unaltered. We were expecting something magnificent - rather similar to the Catholic cathedrals that are all over, so we were disappointed by the one-room building jam-packed with tourists and tour guides. Basically, we spent a few minutes looking at the architecture and then fled from the overflow of tourists.
We had more time than we’d planned on, since we expected the synagogue to take an hour or so, so we dipped back to the hostel for a little while to call our mothers and wish them a Happy Mothers' Day. There was also a little napping involved. The alarm woke us at about 5, and we set off to the far end of the city to view some of the patios. On the way out we ran into Kevan, who was hanging around an outdoor “bar”. He told us that the bar had the best snails in Spain, and that we should stop by on our way back. We told him we’d stop by at 11 and sample the snails and beer and the cured ham displayed outside on a skewer.
Since we had the extra time, we walked all the way to the farthest houses to see the flowers they had on display. Most of the houses in Cordoba open onto a patio, and then the house or apartments are built around it like a little courtyard. The patios were beautiful, and crowded with both Spanish and non-Spanish tourists, all using the same map to find the 40 or so patios open to the public. Tricia and I were both a little surprised by what is considered desirable in a Spanish garden. In the states, flowers, trees, and bushes would all grow in the ground or in big stone pots. In Spain, the ground was mostly hard, so the people hung plastic flower pots from the walls in perfectly shaped patterns. It was strange to get used to at first, but we quickly began enjoying the flowers and decorations people had made in their gardens.
After hitting a dozen or so patios, we were hungry again, and so went back to the plaza to try a second restaurant and a second recommended dish of Cordoba. This time we bought Salmorejo, a soup served cold and made from garlic, tomatoes, and bread blended together but not cooked. It was very good - bread is added until it will no longer blend in, so it is very thick and is typically eaten by dipping bread or breadsticks into it, which is what we did until we ran out of bread and had to resort to a spoon. They had again delivered the bread to our table unrequested, but this time they charged us for it!! Over a dollar!
We headed back to the hostel and up to our room, and there discussed the wisdom of eating snails as a late-night snack. Tricia Googled it and read what tourists had said about the snails. Apparently there are 4 different kinds. Some tourists optimistically ordered and tried all 4 before deciding they couldn’t stomach them. I also mentioned to Tricia that they taste a lot like mushrooms, which immediately turned her off of them. I’ve had them before, but on a cruise where they were big and “prepared” for us. These were very small and were served in the shell, where we would then need to figure out how to get the meat out of it and probably look like idiots. Also it was probably expensive to get if we weren’t going to like it. So, in the end we skipped going back to the bar and stayed in the rest of the night (keep in mind it was already after 11 though - we’d eaten dinner at the traditional 9:30 hour).
The thing about the monastery is that it has a ton of history all by itself. For example, Saint Anne’s chapel held the body of Christopher Columbus for 25 years back in the 1500s. Today it’s full of articles cut from newspapers of genocide and slavery from around the world that the artist didn’t think made big enough headlines. The “Little Cloister” is one of Seville’s finest examples of Mudejar architecture, combining Christian and Moorish styles. Back to art again - a very strange permanent exhibit was created in the monastery’s pools. There was a lot of flooding when the monastery was in use, and as a tribute to the monastery and the river an artist submerged pieces of the architectural remains of the building (mainly columns) into the pools. 
