A few weeks ago, Africa, the lady I work for, informed me that her and the family were going skiing for five days, and I would be free to travel or do as I please. She didn't have to tell me twice. I dashed off and started making plans. It seemed the best decision was to go south, while I could evade the bulk of the tourists and the heat.
Unfortunately, all of my friends were unable to join me, whether they had their boyfriend in town or their family, couldn't get the time off, or simply had other plans, no one could manage it. I was only slightly deterred by this fact. I have traveled quite a bit on my own, and I am aware that it's never as fun, but I can't miss these opportunities to travel either. Therefore, it was decided. I would go take those five days and travel to Córdoba for a day and Sevilla for four days.
The main attractions of Córdoba are the Roman Bridge, the Alcazar and the Mezquita Cathedral. The latter being the biggest drawn. A briefing on the cathedral's history: Originally, the site housed a Roman temple and then, a Visigothic cathedral. In the 8th century, after the Moors had conquered much of Spain, the demolition of the cathedral occurred, in order to construct a mosque. The construction began in 784 AD and lasted over two centuries. It was one of the most important and grand mosques of its time. In 1236, King Ferdinand III vanquished the Moors in Córdoba and returned the city to Christendom. The mosque was then consecrated, dedicated to the Virgin Mary and used as a Christian place of worship.
In later centuries, they added several chapels and a nave. Architects continued to add Christian elements to the already existing structure until the late 18th century. Clearly, the dichotomy of Islamic and Christian architecture creates a peculiar and beguiling sight. It became a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1984.
The interior of the cathedral was a stark, cool contrast to the hot, tree-lined courtyard. My eyes were met with hundred of Arabic arches. I stared down the length of the columns and arches, imaging thousands of Muslim men kneeling on their mats, all chanting their prayer, bowing down and kissing the floor in unison.
The oddity of Islam architecture melting with Christian architecture, stained glasses of Christ facing arches decorated with Arabic writing, was something to behold. There were so many small chapels radiating off from the main area and each filled with incalculable ornaments.
From my journal:
I sit now in the rather magnificent Mezquita trying to find a bit of quiet from the construction and faint, but ever-audible, German tourists. I arrived when the cathedral first opened and only a few people were here. After a brief mosey around the temple turned cathedral turned mosque turned cathedral, which seemingly spans the area of five football fields, (I feel Americans easily relate to size in the measure of football fields...) I made fruitless attempts to wrap my mind around the concept that this structure's foundation dated over 2,000 years old.
I full-heartedly tried to be impressed with such an ancient monument, but my simple, human brain cannot seem to grasp the grandeur of it. The same way we look at the night sky and try to conceptualize that the stars are The mind just can't fully comprehend it and as a result, can never be wholly impressed, or at least mine can't.
I wondered into one of the alcoves that house some of the many relics. Scepters, statues, vases, crowns, plates, jewelry boxes, and other intensely ornamented gadgets. Most dating from over 500 to 600 years ago. Once again, I tried to convince myself of the incredible feat these objects have endured.
It wasn't until I really began to examine one of the pieces that I discovered a link helping me to truly appreciate what I was seeing. It was a gold contraption, perhaps a jewelry box, in the shape of a woman's head. Around the crown of her head, laid a jewel-encrusted tiara and a small latch where it could be opened. Attenuated lines were carved to give the appearance of hair. I began to imagine how the artist created it with his rudimentary tools, possibly working into the wee hours by candlelight. How many days, hours, weeks went into creating this one object? And not only this piece, but ALL of the intricate details of the columns, statues and other paintings.
Because I have lived only a mere 24 years, to grasp the concept of dozens of centuries might as well be like trying to understand infinity. However, to gaze upon these ancient and marvelous pieces of artwork and craftsmanship, I discovered a link to help me better fathom and value this experience.
I started thinking of things I have created or talents I possess. I reflected back to my scrap-booking days in high school. Oh, the painstaking hours I dedicated to this hobby! Sitting in my bedroom floor, engulfed in eighteen different types of squiggly scissors, 26 various paper colors, textures, and finishes, mounds of sorted stickers, and heaps of little pieces of scrap paper and torn stickers.
Each photo and sticker placement was deeply contemplated. It was completely normal that I would spend hours on end engulfed in this pursuit. Not to mention all the buckets of money I poured into the activity. Proudly, I would present it to a friend or family member, and be immediately horrified as they flipped through the pages at sonic speed. Finally, they would retort with a "It's so nice!"
I would want to bellow, "NICE?! NIIICE? That's all you have to say?! Do you realize how much time and effort and BLOOD went into this!? Hmm!!? HMM!?" Then, thrusting my paper-cut fingers to their face as evidence to my strenuous labor. Next, I would dump the wastebasket of all the stubborn, torn stickers and hundreds of paper slivers onto the floor. Afterwards, indignantly snatching the offended scrapbook and stomping off. Of course, in reality, I would simply give a curt "Thanks" through partially gritted teeth.
Or what about my photography? What is the depression of a button, often haphazardly, in comparison with these artworks?
So, just imagine these sculptors, artists, architects, designers, builders, who dedicated their life to their craft or maybe only one piece, screaming from the grave. "You daft, unappreciative, spoiled, ignorant, modern human! SEE my work! Don't just look at it! Do you know the years I spent creating this!?" They would perhaps show us the scars, burns, missing fingers, cataracts or arthritic hands. "And you pass by with little more than a glance and nod of approval." As a dramatic finish, the artist's ghost would hurl the large, precious object at the tourist's head.... Yeah...
As a result of my mental confrontation with artists past, I found my own path to appreciation. I have been an awful tourist most of the time. Being that unaware tourist who breezes through and is already contemplating what sight or activity I will do next. Cafe or Museum?
Now, I would like to make a conscious effort to try and appreciate these awe-inspiring monuments that I am so immensely fortunate to witness.
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