Days 1 & 2
We are here!
We finally arrived to Madrid to catch a Renfe high speed train to Córdoba. And thanks to two years of Babbel Spanish, I somehow managed to reroute our train tickets and navigate Spain’s rail system without resorting to interpretive dance. I felt like a superhero!
When we reached Córdoba, it felt like stepping into a dream. We wandered café-lined plazas scented with orange blossoms and discovered that Andalucía runs on its own clock. Siesta isn’t just a nap—it’s a cultural reset. Everything slows midday and comes roaring back to life at 5 p.m. Instead of feeling inconvenienced, we rolled with it. The morning crowds thinned out, and our evenings slowed down in the best way.
it's showtime!
Traveling with a Rick Steves group is like joining a band of kindred spirits who all want more than surface-level sightseeing. It didn’t take long for our group to gel.
And having a Rick Steves guide felt like traveling with a brilliant best friend—someone who knew the language, the back doors, and exactly when to get us to the good stuff before the crowds poured in.
the kaleidoscope that is córdoba
Our local guide, a bundle of energy and facts, led us through the streets of the Old Quarter where remnants of religions and cultures that coexisted for centuries remain today.
Then came the Mezquita—part mosque, part cathedral—it felt almost impossible that one place could be both.
The moment I stepped inside, my brain short-circuited. Endless striped arches. Cool stonework and tiles. My brain kept going, Who thought of this? How did they build this without computers or 3D printers? I was so taken in with the uniqueness of it all that I didn’t hear a word our guide said for much of the time. That’s when I thought, okay… this trip is turning into something more than just a vacation.
before facebook there was flamenco
This night we realized flamenco isn’t just music—it’s a conversation. A way of telling what happened that day, who did someone wrong, who’s in love, and who had their heart broken. The guitarist and dancers played off each other like they were finishing each other’s sentences. Shoes became instruments. Shawls became storytelling props.
We didn’t always know the exact storyline, but we always knew the emotion—because in flamenco, you can feel when someone is very happy or very angry. It felt like the original social media, just with better music.
