The rolling hills of Andalusia, barren and sun-baked, seem to lie down flat in reverence of the sky, a departure from the cragged mountains of Southern Catalonia. The city of Cordoba sits in the valley, windswept and white , a tangle of cobbled alleyways.

We hopped a train (20 euros a person) in the late afternoon. Outside, the Spanish villages with names I’ll never know pass by. With each tunnel, a new vista of rock and rust. If you are traveling across Spain, , be sure to do some ticket price checking. Depending on where and when you want to go, train, bus or sometimes even place can be cheaper; its just depends on how much of a hurry you are in.

We arrived in Cordoba long after nightfall. With no place to stay, we dragged our belongings down cramped alleyways and floral avenues, looking for a hostel with an open bed. Finding none, we cut our losses and booked a cheap motel - preferring that to sleeping in the park.

Honestly, if you don’t mind sharing a bathroom (with you’re going to anyway in a hostel) an Airbnb or shitty motel is about the same price. For two people, at least. If you’re on your own, do yo thang.

Cordoba is a city built on the foundation of different cultures, from the Jewish Quarter to the Muslim Moors, the streets echo with these who came here before. You can almost hear the call to prayer echo off the Spanish tile.

Unfortunately, some of the that is now lost in the modern invasion of international tourist and open air strip malls. Cordoba is also a small city, far from the chaotic streets of Barcelona. City buses shuttle people to and from the major draws. Beyond what most probably know - The Grand Mosque, the Roman Bridge and Alcazar de les Reyes Christians - there really isn’t much else.

We spent two nights (really just one and a half, since we wandered the streets for a place to stay) and only one full day in Cordoba; which is really all you need.

Loose yourself in the avenues and alleyways of the Jewish Quarter, with its white-washed walls and terraced roofs; Retrace the history worn into the walls and rocks in the old city walls and Romanesque architecture (the food is cheaper on the other side of the river anyway); and if you do nothing else, see The Grand Mosque of Cordoba.

Now I am not a religious person (sorry mom), but there is something humbling and spiritual about this place. Built in 784 ACE, the painted red and white brick form the foundation of architectural marvels that came later. Inside the space opens to a place where light dances with shadows on the floor, while Saints of the other centuries stand and watch over the poetry of Muslim scripture. If the soul does exist somewhere here, it finds space to expand to the heavens and grounding into the rock and earth from which we came, and one day all return to.

P.S. My friend Parsa, tells me this is the place to get Salmorejo (a tomato paste - thing). Hell, I didn’t know exactly but who cares? I can’t find any issue with this statement. Try it, like it; ups aren’t here for the McDonalds are you?