November 11, 2016
In Cordoba
A gaspacho digression
We had dinner at Casa Vincente in Tucson again tonight (it's the restaurant we at at two weeks ago when we first arrived on this tour). It is an authentic Spanish restaurant, run by expatriates from Avila. For my first course, I had a delicious gazpacho, which triggered one of my favorite travel memories. It has nothing to do with this trip, but it's my journal so here it is.
Rachael and I first visited Andalucia in the autumn of 2004. I've never written up this tour, but it was an ill-fated trip in some ways. We travelled a bit too early in the fall and were punished by extreme heat; Rachael lost an entire pannier, including both of our passports, so we had to cut our trip short and drive to Madrid to get replacements for the flight home; and when we visited Toledo while waiting for our flight, I got the sickest I ever have while traveling.
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Before our trip fell apart though, we visited Córdoba and it's great mosque - one of the most magnificent religious structures I've seen. That evening, we wandered from our hotel through the labyrinthine streets of Córdoba, and landed in a restaurant that served white gazpacho. It's one of the best soups I've ever had, and I've measured other gazpacho against it ever since. Nothing has ever quite compared.
It was a quiet night at the restaurant, and we were one of its few customers. When it came time to pay our bill though, I discovered that I had left my wallet at our hotel - something I've never done before or since. Disaster. I left Rachael at the table and ran off to our hotel - realizing once I got out the door that I didn't recall its name and didn't know my way back to it.
After what seemed like an interminable time spent running through the warren-like streets of old Cordoba I finally stumbled on our hotel and retrieved my wallet. Stepping out the door of the hotel I again panicked, realizing I didn't know the name of the restaurant either, or how to find it. By the time I finally made it back I'd been gone about an hour, and a very distressed Rachael was the only remaining diner.
If I can locate my hand-written journal from this tour, I'll write it up in CGOB someday. In the meantime though, here are a few photos from tonight's dinner in Tucson.
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