Cordoba, Spain - a precious gem.

You know how names or aromas can muster memories of childhood...or BOTH! Cordoba has done that for me.

As a very small child my family moved to Cordova, Tennessee. It was a town, not a city, unblemished in any way, and lost in time. It boasted a tiny, timber General Store and a wooden, even smaller post office. I remember these dark, interesting places where adults gathered and sourced the latest news and gossip. Pipe and cigar smoke always wafted through the air. If my Mom or Dad asked me to go with them, I was eager, but I never spoke with anyone - only observed.

(Interuption: As I am typing this morning and THE only guest in restaurant...a very kind, young, Spanish gentleman made a lovely Americano coffeee for me and helped me to get Wi-Fi set up, too. No English...we spoke with smiles. IN ANY EVENT, he is setting tables for a large gathering and turned on the music and is now SINGING at the top of his lungs, looking at me and laughing. I LOVE people who know how to have a good time ALL by themselves and don't take themselves too seriously. I do not have the nerve to record and I do not want to break his spirit. What a lovely young man. Moments like these are sheer happiness - magic. Perhaps I can adopt him. OMG...now he is singing The Righteous Brothers...'Time Goes By So Slowly' in Spanish - is that the name? Gheeeez. I know I am easily distracted, but this is sheer entertainment. A bit of heaven early in the morning!) OMG, again, now Elvis ballards. Hell, I can't concentrate right now...later.

I shall ask for a photo of him.

Be. Still. My. Heart.

Back to Cordoba - I keep telling Tinto that my home as a child (Cordova) must have been named after Cordoba; NO idea, but the anticipation oF visiting CordoBa has brought back delicious memories of CordoVa. The community had a giant love for horses. In Fall, I remember the distinct, rich smell of burning leaves. Preparation for The Germantown Charity Horseshow involved every single community member. Etched clear in my mind's eye, the big, black cauldron filled to the brim with Brunswick Stew; stirred by an old guy with a long, wooden board and a cig hanging out of one side of his mouth. Like it or not, everyone had a steaming bowl of Brunswick Stew!

My sister, Constance, and I grew up on horses. My FIRST true love; wish I had stuck with horses and not moved on to boys (another story for another time). The smell of the stables lingers, freshly strewn hay, oats, grain for feed, of course, poop, too! Brushing my horse was my favourite time; I had to stand on a small stool to do so. Saddling my horse was another thing. I could never pull the girth tight enough and Constance always yelled at me. NOT fair; Constance was 5 years older. I shall never, ever forget the day when, while watching my sister compete in a Sunday afternoon Horseshow
(typical), my Father asked me if I wanted to go with him to look at the horses in the corral. (These were the horses the public would hire on the weekends to ride for fun.) The man who owned these stables owned the horses or the horses would be turned over to him if their owners could not pay their stable fees. Perhaps some horses were repossessed like cars, WHO knows? I was a child entering a fenced paddock, holding my Father's hand, and I was eye-level with bellies! I did NOT know my Dad was going to purchase a horse for me - NO CLUE. The horses dispersed around us. Then...this strawberry roan, with the biggest Roman nose on earth, came up to me...TO ME, sniffed me, followed me around like a puppy, and I said, 'Daddy he loves me. I LOVE him.' Hell, I did not know he was a 'He'. I certainly had NO clue what a Roman nose was. My Dad said, 'Well then, he's yours.' The words did not land on my ears properly at first. I truly did not understand. I asked, 'You mean he's mine?' My Dad nodded and I remember crying so hard I could not breathe. I vividly rmember thinking what have I ever done to receive such a GIFT? Freckles had a great, big stawberry patch on his rump. He sported a good rump and was a healthy size. I adored that about him - a great, big, fat, strong, beautiful 'dog' that I could RIDE, too!!! Freckles, whose official name was 'Scotch & Soda' had no idea that scotch would become my whiskey of choice. Neither did I. We were THE BEST MATES. When my Father and I walked behind the bleachers to show my Mother my brand, new love, Mom replied, 'Oh, Pete, NO, REALLY? Look at his nose.' I remember, distinctly, not being happy with my Mamma. HOW could anyone NOT share in my complete JOY? To make a family story very short...Constance was THE great lover and 'reader' of horses...a kind of horse whisperer. Constance and our lifelong best mates took Freckles in under their wings and he lived a very long time; his strawberry roan colour turning creamy beige. Any one who came in contact with him, fell in love because Freckles THOUGHT he was supposed to follow you around and be your pal. I made the BEST choice in my life as a little girl. Freckles became a family member.

(Okay...now my host is waving his hands in the air while he sings. Can any moment get ANY MORE special??? HA!)

So...SEE what CORDOBA did to (for) me? WHY? You may ask. Tinto and I visited the Royal Stables of Cordoba, THAT's WHY.

The Royal Stables of Cordoba: home to the best stallions and mares of the royal stud breed: Andalusian horse.

These horses enjoyed life far better than most people, especially, no doubt, the servants of the time. Tinto and I feasted our eyes on every type of carriage, too. We viewed and inspected carriages for the royals, the wealthy, and the calvary, also. I could NOT get enough and could not wipe the smile from my face.

BEHOLD: