We left Granada today and headed towards Cordoba. The landscape here is extremely dry and covered in olive trees. Rolling hills, covered in olive plantations for as far as the eye can see. It is just as well they have found something that grows here, otherwise this would be a complete wasteland.
Once in Cordoba it was a bit of a mission to find our hostel, due to a complex of narrow one way streets and road works blocking access to many of them. So we parked and walked the last part.
After we had nicely settled in Justine went for a walk to see if the Mosque was still open (it wasn’t) but she managed to see the outside, and to stroll through the streets taking in the bright contrasting colours, and old town Moorish architecture.
After a few hours we went back to the car to get some more of our luggage, only to find that it had been broken into. DAMN! In broad daylight, in a busy pedestrian area. They took Justine’s compact digital camera and two of my small backpacks which held things like contact lenses, prescription glasses, medical supplies (and other odds and ends that we are still discovering). One of the things that has vexed me since we arrived here is that the ‘tourist plates’ that they put on lease cars are red, as opposed to the normal white. They might as well paint a great big target on the side of the car as far as any thief is concerned.
Our first mission was to go to the Police station. We drove around for two hours trying to find it, and everyone that we asked directions of directed us to a different part of town. When we finally found it, we discovered that it wasn’t far from where we were staying. There is nothing to mark it as a Police station, no signage, no directions, no flags, no sign of police cars or policemen. How is it that they can find you in five minutes for a parking offence, but they can be so difficult to find?
We finally got inside and sat in a queue to take our turn to get a ‘Police Report’. After sitting in a waiting room of four people for one and a half hours I discovered that the guy next to me had been waiting since 3pm and it was now 10pm. We were lucky, we got in at 11pm.
Language was a bit of a problem and the policeman was particularly unhelpful, but we managed to talk to an interpreter on the phone, but I think a few things were lost in translation. We did however manage to walk out with our police report and we were able to park the car under police surveillance until the morning.
Once in Cordoba it was a bit of a mission to find our hostel, due to a complex of narrow one way streets and road works blocking access to many of them. So we parked and walked the last part.
After we had nicely settled in Justine went for a walk to see if the Mosque was still open (it wasn’t) but she managed to see the outside, and to stroll through the streets taking in the bright contrasting colours, and old town Moorish architecture.
After a few hours we went back to the car to get some more of our luggage, only to find that it had been broken into. DAMN! In broad daylight, in a busy pedestrian area. They took Justine’s compact digital camera and two of my small backpacks which held things like contact lenses, prescription glasses, medical supplies (and other odds and ends that we are still discovering). One of the things that has vexed me since we arrived here is that the ‘tourist plates’ that they put on lease cars are red, as opposed to the normal white. They might as well paint a great big target on the side of the car as far as any thief is concerned.
Our first mission was to go to the Police station. We drove around for two hours trying to find it, and everyone that we asked directions of directed us to a different part of town. When we finally found it, we discovered that it wasn’t far from where we were staying. There is nothing to mark it as a Police station, no signage, no directions, no flags, no sign of police cars or policemen. How is it that they can find you in five minutes for a parking offence, but they can be so difficult to find?
We finally got inside and sat in a queue to take our turn to get a ‘Police Report’. After sitting in a waiting room of four people for one and a half hours I discovered that the guy next to me had been waiting since 3pm and it was now 10pm. We were lucky, we got in at 11pm.
Language was a bit of a problem and the policeman was particularly unhelpful, but we managed to talk to an interpreter on the phone, but I think a few things were lost in translation. We did however manage to walk out with our police report and we were able to park the car under police surveillance until the morning.
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