Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo House-Studio Museum

The studio and home of prolific artists Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo at the Museo Casa Estudio Diego Rivera y Frida Kahlo wows as a striking example of 1930s Mexican modernist architecture. 

You definitely have to tour Casa Azul and Anahuacalli Museum — but this site is also worth visiting if you have time.

When Wally and I talk to friends about our travels in CDMX, the conversation often turns to the places we’ve seen, and the places on our list for our next trip. 

One of the places I’d been wanting to visit was the Museo Casa Estudio Diego Rivera & Frida Kahlo, the former home and studio of two of the city’s most revered artists — though I’d argue that Frida has eclipsed Diego in fame since their deaths in the 1950s. It felt like a fitting comeuppance for how he treated her. But more on that later. 

“Whenever Frida wanted to visit Diego, she had to pull herself up an exterior floating staircase and cross a narrow footbridge.

Diego had specifically requested this to make it difficult for Frida to enter his studio (and see his adulterous dalliances). 

Their tumultuous relationship undoubtedly checked the “it’s complicated” box. ”

San Ángel: An Escape From the City

The historic house museum is located in San Ángel, an enchanting neighborhood southwest of Mexico City. Once a separate municipality, San Ángel served as a retreat for wealthy families who built grand country homes to escape the chaos of city life during the rise of the Industrial Revolution. Ancient lava flows shaped this rugged terrain, where its cobbled streets and colonial estates were eventually consumed by the ever-expanding sprawl of Mexico City.

Duke and Wally stand on the terrace by the walkway that connected Diego’s home to Frida’s.

We planned our visit to coincide with the Bazar Sábado, a weekly market held on Saturdays, where artists and artisans set up shop and sell their wares. 

Our Uber driver dropped us off at the museum’s entrance on Calle Diego Rivera. As we waited for our guide, we couldn’t help but notice valets dressed in traje de charro, the traditional attire of mariachis, running past us in pairs. They were undoubtedly heading to the entrance of the nearby San Ángel Inn to park arriving cars. Known for its restaurant, the historic inn is a favorite dining spot for both locals and tourists, especially on weekends.

O'Gorman's Mexican fence post cactus barriers (and modern aesthetic) pissed off his traditional neighbors.

Wally and I walked to the front of the property, which faces Avenida Altavista. In our opinion, the best view of the two buildings is from across the avenue. On the left is the big house, a boxy white and red structure with a distinctive sawtooth roof and water tanks, which once served as the residence and studio of the plus-sized muralist Rivera. 

It’s linked at roof level by a narrow walkway and contrasted by the little house, the vivid blue home on the right, which belonged to his unibrowed surrealist painter wife, Kahlo.

The building that now serves as the restrooms originally functioned as a darkroom for Kahlo’s father, Guillermo.

Not the Blue House: The History of Diego and Frida’s San Ángel Studio Home

When the site opened at 10 a.m., we met our guide, Fernanda, in the museum’s courtyard. She resembled a proto-punk Japanese schoolgirl, with her nose ring and dressed in a long-sleeve white shirt under a black sweater, grid-pattern miniskirt fastened with oversized buttons and shiny black loafers. Joining us were a couple from Alabama celebrating their pandemic-postponed honeymoon and a towering white-haired man on a business trip from Germany who had added a day for sightseeing. 

Before the tour began, Fernanda asked how many of us had visited Casa Azul, Kahlo’s family home in the boho Coyoacán neighborhood. She explained that a lot of visitors show up here thinking they’re about to see the Blue House.

“It’s important to understand the difference,” Fernanda explained, “because that’s the house where she was born and where she returned after divorcing Rivera in December 1939.” 

She continued, “Here, there isn’t much furniture — it’s more of a photographic history. But what makes this site significant is the architecture of these three buildings.”

Our charming tour guide, Fernanda, was an expert on O’Gorman, Rivera and Kahlo.

Kahlo only lived here for six years. The couple moved into the home in January 1934 after Rivera was essentially forced to return to Mexico following the controversy surrounding his mural at Rockefeller Center, Man at the Crossroads. The mural, which included a depiction of Vladimir Lenin, led the Rockefellers to order its destruction and terminate Rivera’s commission. Rivera later re-created the mural in Mexico City. This version, titled Man, Controller of the Universe, can be seen at the Palacio de Bellas Artes murals in Mexico City.

Kahlo and Rivera remarried in December 1940, a year after their divorce, at San Francisco City Hall in California; however, she never returned to San Ángel. Her declining health made it more practical for her to remain in the beloved house of her childhood, la Casa Azul, which now serves as a popular attraction. This house offers a comprehensive glimpse into her life, showcasing her furniture and personal belongings. Rivera, however, lived in the studio home until his death in 1957.

In 1981, the National Institute of Fine Arts (INBA) acquired the houses from Rivera’s daughter, Ruth Rivera Marín, and, after nearly 16 years of restoration, it opened to the public. And three decades later, INBA acquired the Cecil O’Gorman House and incorporated it into the museum campus.

You can imagine Juan O’Gorman’s bold modernist design didn’t go over so well with the neighbors, who lived in colonial-style homes.

Cecil O’Gorman House 

Thanks to his interest in sports, Juan O’Gorman was the first to discover that the pair of tennis courts belonging to the San Ángel Inn were for sale.

In 1929, the aspiring 24-year-old architect purchased the plot at 81 Las Palmas, now Calle Diego Rivera, using money he had earned as chief draftsman at Carlos Obregón Santacilla’s atelier. 

He then began constructing a revolutionary dwelling inspired by Swiss architect Le Corbusier, whose work he had studied at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM). The design adhered to the principle that buildings should be created solely based on their purpose and function. 

Nearly a century later, the structure remains one of the earliest examples of functionalist architecture in Latin America. Its stripped-back, utilitarian design was radical for its time, standing in sharp contrast to the surrounding 18th century colonial homes.

An exposed concrete spiral staircase swirls up the side of O’Gorman’s house.

By 1930, O’Gorman had completed the Cecil O’Gorman House, which, according to his autobiography, he designed as a home and studio for his father. 

But that’s not the whole story. 

His father, the Irish painter Cecil Crawford O’Gorman, was an avid collector of colonial art and antiques. He already owned a spacious hacienda nearby and had no interest in downsizing to the modernist glass box that his son had built. In reality, it’s likely that O’Gorman designed the house to showcase his architectural ideas and intended it to serve as a prototype for low-income housing, though the project never came to fruition.

Elevated on pilotis, slender columns that raise the reinforced concrete structure off the ground, this innovative construction method eliminated the need for traditional load-bearing walls, allowing O’Gorman to incorporate an entire wall of articulated glass windows. 

Access to the second floor is provided by an external spiral staircase, but unfortunately, it was closed during our visit due to the installation of an upcoming exhibition.

We weren’t able to go upstairs in the O’Gorman House because they were setting up for a new exhibition.

Like Rivera, O’Gorman had socialist inclinations and sought to challenge the norms of his time. He wasn’t just building a home — he was making a declaration of functionalist design amid the traditional architecture that characterizes much of San Ángel.

The neighbors were said to be outraged, demanding that his architectural degree be revoked. 

The locals didn’t care for the home’s curb appeal, either. Enclosed by Pachycereus marginatus, a tall columnar cactus, also known as Mexican fence post cactus, and landscaped with agaves, it reflected the aesthetic of an indigenous Mexican village rather than the prevailing manicured European style.

Rivera, on the other hand, appreciated O’Gorman’s vision. He commissioned him to construct a similar pair of homes for himself and his wife, Kahlo, on the adjacent lot. 

A model of the property inside the O’Gorman House.

Inside, what formerly served as the dining room and kitchen now holds a glass case with a scale model of the trio of buildings as well as a series of photographs by Cristina Kahlo-Alcalá, Kahlo’s grandniece. Among the photos are images of the hospital gowns Kahlo wore during her stays at the American British Cowdray Hospital in Mexico City, on which she often used to wipe excess paint from her brushes while she painted.

These doodles became the mural Entre Filosofía y Ciencia by O’Gorman.

In 2012, the museum’s restoration team uncovered the sinopia, or preparatory sketch, for the fresco Entre Filosofía y Ciencia (Between Philosophy and Science) on a layer of lime plaster beneath where the completed mural by O’Gorman originally stood. The fresco was purchased by Banco Nacional de México in 1957 and, when it’s not traveling, can be found in the Museo Foro Valparaíso.

Recall that Frida had leg and back issues, and imagine her having to walk up and down this floating staircase onto her roof and then across the walkway to get to Diego’s house.

Frida and Diego’s Complicated Relationship 

After we exited the Cecil O’Gorman House, Fernanda directed our attention to the floating staircase perched on the exterior of Kahlo’s house. Its tubular steel handrail leads from the second floor studio windows to the rooftop terrace. We couldn’t believe anyone would have used those stairs — especially Kahlo, whose chronic health issues significantly impaired her mobility. 

As a child, Kahlo contracted polio, which left her right leg weakened and deformed. Then, as a teenager, she was in a horrific accident when the bus she was riding collided with a trolley car. The impact left her with a fractured spine, and a handrail pierced her body, entering through her back and exiting through her pelvis.

RELATED: 9 Fascinating Facts About Frida

Yet, whenever she wanted to visit Rivera, she had to pull herself up those stairs and cross the narrow footbridge. Rivera had specifically requested this particular feature from O’Gorman to make it difficult for Kahlo to enter his studio (and see his adulterous dalliances). 

Their tumultuous relationship undoubtedly checked the “it’s complicated” box. It was a marriage strained by mutual jealousy and infidelity. Rivera didn’t fit society’s standards of handsome — Kahlo nicknamed him el Sapo-Rana (Toad-Frog) — but his fame, confidence and charisma made him irresistible to many women. 

Tour groups meet in the small courtyard in front of Diego’s house.

Rivera’s House and Studio

In my opinion, the most fascinating part of the museum is Rivera’s house. It still contains some of the original furniture and artwork from when he lived there. 

The bedroom has a set of small windows high on the wall, which limited the amount of direct sunlight and helped keep the room cool. Next to the bed, there’s a pair of shoes, an enamel bedpan and a leather suitcase sitting atop the woven coverlet, awaiting its next trip. An articulated gooseneck task lamp and a small bust of Chairman Mao sit on the olive green-painted nightstand, with a watercolor landscape by Rivera hanging above it.

Diego’s bedroom

Like his bedroom, the studio was mostly left as it was at the time of Rivera’s death. The main section, with its double-height space, was perfect for large works and transportable murals. The design facilitated easy handling of the panels, allowing them to be moved in and out of the studio through the folding windows.

Our favorite pieces among the personal items were Rivera’s collection of larger-than-life cartonería (papier-mâché) figures. Known in Mexico as Judases, these brightly colored effigies, with features like oversized or abnormally small heads and stubby limbs, commanded the room with their massive presence. Originally, these figures were depictions of Judas Iscariot, the apostle who betrayed Jesus Christ. Rivera’s collection includes devils, skeletons and other fantastical creatures, which were traditionally burned, exploded or flogged on the Saturday before Easter. 

Some of Diego’s collection of papier-mâché Judases in his studio

Many of these larger-than-life-sized effigies were created by the Mexican folk artist Carmen Caballero Sevilla. One Holy Week, Rivera visited the Mercado Abelardo Rodríguez and was impressed with Sevilla’s Judas figures and invited her to work in his studio in San Ángel. (He admired the working class, which is why he often wore overalls.)

Cool metal skeletons covered the walls.

Diego collected handicrafts like these Judases.

Brushes and trays with reserves of dried paint remain exactly as Rivera had left them, offering a glimpse into his creative process. Among them were shelves with jars of pigments that reflect his color palette — including Paris Green, a highly toxic emerald green powder made from copper and arsenic. 

Diego’s paints line the shelves of his studio but have long since dried up.

There are bookcases filled with pre-Hispanic and indigenous folk art. On one of the easels was a painting of the Latin American actress Dolores del Río, who was rumored to have slept with both Rivera and Kahlo. 

Diego painted Dolores del Rio, a beautiful Latin American actress who is said to have slept with his as well as Frida.

Fernanda pointed out a papier-mâché torito, a little bull, hanging high above us. She explained that this tradition dates back to the mid 19th century. These creations are mounted on a kind of scaffolding that rests on the wearer’s shoulders, stuffed with fireworks like roman candles and bottle rockets, which are set alight as part of the annual festival in the town of Tultepec honoring Saint John of God, the patron saint of (what else?) fireworks makers. 

Sound dangerous? It sure is — but that didn’t stop Fernanda’s brother from participating in one. And he has the burns to prove it. 

Our group followed Fernanda up the staircase to the second floor, where we could take in a full view of the studio. Fernanda explained that this was the very spot where Kahlo discovered Rivera with her younger sister Cristina — an incident that became the proverbial last straw, which led to their separation and brief divorce. It wasn’t Rivera’s or Kahlo’s numerous indiscretions that caused the rift; it was the fact that Rivera was having an affair with her closest confidant.

Just off the landing, we entered Rivera’s private office, a space with a desk and a typewriter and additional bookcases filled with pieces from his prolific collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts, an obsession that can be seen at the Anahuacalli Museum in Coyoacán. 

Diego’s typewriter and some of the pre-Columbian artifacts he loved to collect.

From Rivera’s office, a door opened onto the rooftop terrace and the narrow bridge connecting his former residence to Kahlo’s. However, Fernanda quickly dismissed any thoughts of taking the infamous floating stairs. Instead, we followed her back through Rivera’s office and down the staircase to the courtyard below.

Frida’s house leaves much to be desired — but at least O’Gorman painted it the vibrant blue of her beloved family home, Casa Azul.

Kahlo’s House

Our group paused outside Kahlo’s house as Fernanda pointed out an interesting feature: a carnelian red painted garbage chute extending from the second floor, connected to a steel drum barrel. Its purpose? To collect kitchen waste.

By this time, the site had grown much busier, with dozens of visitors streaming in and out of the buildings.

The rooms inside Kahlo’s house were noticeably smaller and compact than those in Rivera’s, in large part because there wasn’t an open studio space. Unlike her husband’s residence, Kahlo’s house was devoid of decorative objects or furniture, leaving the space feeling even more austere.

The tiny kitchen exemplified functional design, featuring a concrete countertop with a gas cooktop, a small sink, and the opening of the chute that connected to the steel barrel outside. 

A man from Germany insisted Wally pose for a picture in his bright T-shirt to contrast with the blue of Frida’s house, next to the kitchen garbage chute.

We peeked into the modest bathroom, the very space where Kahlo’s 1938 oil painting, Lo que el agua me dio (What the Water Gave Me), was conceived. Fernanda told us that there weren’t any good spaces for Frida to paint in her home, so she chose the bathroom, which had better lighting. 

Frida’s home is small and dark, so she preferred to paint in the bathroom. One of her most famous works, Lo que el agua me dio, came from this period.

Wally paused in front of a framed letter that Kahlo had written to Hungarian-born photographer Nickolas Muray, with whom she shared a decade-long, on-again, off-again relationship, and read this poignant sentence aloud: “Please forgive me for having phoned you that evening. I won’t do it anymore.”

One of the glass cases in Kahlo’s house displays an open copy of the book Complete Anatomy of Man by Martín Martínez, and included a handwritten dedication from Kahlo to Dr. Juan Farill, the surgeon who performed seven spinal surgeries on her. 

The final room we explored was her small bedroom — a fitting conclusion to our visit. The room was concealed behind thick black drapery that we had to pull aside to enter. Inside, an installation by Cristina Kahlo-Alcalá features numerous lightboxes  illuminating Kahlo’s medical records from the American British Cowdray Hospital. The air in the room felt heavy and still, with the slow rhythmic sound of a heartbeat emanating from a hidden speaker. 

We knew beforehand about Diego and Kahlo’s turbulent relationship. But standing in the dark, claustrophobic space Diego had O'Gorman design as her home was a different kind of gut punch. It was hard not to feel the weight of it — the realization that someone as fiercely powerful as Kahlo could be confined like this by a man who claimed to love her. It really shook us, and we didn’t linger.

Our group poses under the entrance to Frida’s house.

Know before you go

We purchased tickets prior to our trip through a site called Tiqets. At $30 per person it’s definitely more than the $2 price of general admission, but we felt it was worth it. 

Our guide, Fernanda, was charming and incredibly knowledgeable, offering all the insights we could have hoped for about the site. She didn’t shy away from discussing the complexities of Rivera and Kahlo’s relationship either. And even though the tour was scheduled to last an hour, she stayed with us for an hour and 45 minutes, never once making us feel rushed.

The museum is open Tuesday through Sunday from 10 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.

Admission is 40 pesos for adults, while children under 13 and seniors can enter for free. On Sundays, admission is free for everyone. –Duke

Floor-to-ceiling windows opened wide to allow transport of Rivera’s large-scale mural panels into and out of his studio. 

Museo Casa Estudio Diego Rivera y Frida Kahlo

Diego Rivera s/n
San Ángel Inn
Álvaro Obregón
01060 CDMX
Mexico

 

Weird and Wonderful Woodstock, New York

Woodstock unplugged: The site of the 1969 music festival is an artsy, laidback town in the Hudson Valley, where cool shops, great eats and local treasures abound.

A glimpse of the adorable backyard of Tinker Taco along Tannery Brook in Woodstock, New York

When you hear the name Woodstock, do you picture Snoopy’s little yellow sidekick from the Peanuts comic strip, or do peace-loving hippies, patchouli and that legendary rock and folk music festival held in the summer of 1969 come to mind?

Well, here’s the twist, man: Technically, the historic lovefest didn’t even happen in Woodstock! It actually took place on a 600-acre dairy farm, in the neighboring town of Bethel, about 60 miles southwest. Although it was a success in terms of cultural significance, it was a logistical failure — there wasn’t enough food or enough toilets. But according to Wally, they were high, they were hippies, and they couldn’t have cared less.

Despite this misconception, I imagine Woodstock had a better ring to it than Bethel, and the name stuck. 

Papa, Wally and Duke on Tannery Brook Bridge, enjoying their time in Woodstock, New York

Woodstock’s laidback, artistic spirit continues to evolve and thrive, and this small town, nestled in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains along the Hudson River, turned out to be exactly the vibe we were looking for during our four-day Hudson Valley weekend.

Read on for our list of our favorite spots along Mill Hill Road and Tinker Street in the charming burg of Woodstock, including a couple of recommendations on where to stop and refuel along the way. 

Tinker Street and Mill Hill Road

The main thoroughfares of Woodstock are Tinker Street and Mill Road, a walkable stretch lined with locally owned shops, restaurants, galleries and other businesses catering to residents and visitors alike. 

The Mud Club 

We started our day at the Mud Club (a nod to the famously muddy aforementioned festival in Bethel). We headed straight to the hulking brown barn to order four of their Montreal-style bagels from the service window. 

Established in 2017 by brothers Nicolas and Gray Ballinger, along with their father Doug, their irregularly shaped hand-rolled bagels are briefly poached in honey-sweetened water and baked in a wood-fired oven, resulting in a bagel with a crisp exterior and a denser chew than a New York-style bagel. 

The Mud Club vibe? Think rustic yet quirky mountain lodge with a side of artisanal coffee. Their rotating selection of single-origin beans, sourced from regions like Ethiopia, Kenya, Peru and Honduras, expertly roasted by Brooklyn-based Mud Club, are sure to satisfy even the most discerning caffeine connoisseur.

The Mud Club
43 Mill Hill Road

Bread Alone Bakery

You know what they say: Man cannot live on bread alone. But if we did — we’d be happy getting our sustenance at Bread Alone. Even though we had already eaten bagels at Mud Club, we couldn’t resist stopping at this local bakery. What started as an entrepreneurial endeavor by artisan baker and educator Daniel Leader in the early ’80s, with loaves being sold out of the trunk of the family station wagon, has grown into a trailblazing bakery with a big following, with additional locations in Boiceville and Rhinebeck. 

This is the place to find an assortment of breads made with certified organic grains milled in Halifax, Pennsylvania, along with a pastry counter filled with sweet and savory treats. I purchased a chocolate caramel cake to enjoy later for Wally’s birthday, and trust me — it was a winner!

Bread Alone Bakery
22 Mill Hill Road

Candlestock

Beyond the white picket fence with yellow flame-topped posts at 16 Mill Hill Road is Candlestock, a one-of-a-kind family-owned business offering a wide selection of beeswax, drip and handmade candles in every shape, size and color imaginable. 

Wally and I purchased a few hand-dipped tapers and were in awe of the impressive, rainbow-colored “Drip Mountain,” a towering 8-foot-high by 3-foot-wide wax creation dramatically lit by blacklight that has been steadily growing since 1969. 

Candlestock
16 Mill Hill Road

The Golden Notebook 

This small but impressive independently owned bookshop, named after the original owner’s favorite Doris Lessing novel, has been a local staple for nearly five decades. Among the shelves and tables, you’ll find a mix of popular and rare titles spanning both fiction and nonfiction, as well as a selection of signed books and graphic novels by acclaimed author Neil Gaiman. His writing often features darkly whimsical themes, complex characters and richly imagined worlds.

A section at the front of the shop is dedicated to local history and the surrounding Hudson Valley, with a selection that highlights the region’s storied past. 

Whether you’re looking for books for adults or children, you’ll easily find your next read among the thoughtfully curated selections on display.

The Golden Notebook
29 Tinker Street

Timbuktu 

You’ve probably heard or even uttered the phrase, “from here to Timbuktu” to describe a faraway place. Well, just a few doors down from the Golden Notebook is a shop with that name, filled with global and one-of-a-kind goods. You’ll find a diverse array of handmade home goods, pillows, quilts and jewelry by the shop’s owner, Jaime Surgil. Wally and I especially loved the whimsical aquatint etchings by New York-based artist Stephen Francis Duffy. Whether you’re browsing or buying, you’re likely to leave this boutique feeling inspired.

Timbuktu
2 Tannery Brook Road

Woodstock Leisure Syndicate 

When Wally and I spotted a sign across the street with two bears hugging beneath a radiant moon, we had to check it out. It turned out to be tied to the concept shop Woodstock Leisure Syndicate, a collaborative project by the design duo Grant Krajecki and Ryan Kelly.

The shop is housed in the historic Old Forge House, a building that formerly served as the village blacksmith’s workshop and home. Stop by to browse quilted seating upholstered in nylon, as well as apparel, books, artwork and chunky, oversized Grey Ant eyewear — designed in New York by Krajecki and produced in Italy. I especially loved their playful take on the classic smiley logo, with “NY” for the eyes and “Woodstock” forming the smile. It’s available as a patch, tie-dyed T-shirt and super soft hoodie.

Woodstock Leisure Syndicate 
54C Tinker Street

Tinker Taco

By this time, we had worked up an appetite and decided to try the cute spot we had seen earlier. Plus, you can never go wrong with Mexican. 

To reach Tinker Taco, you have to walk behind the Old Forge. It’s a relaxed, order-at-the-bar-and-find-a-seat kind of place. We chose a picnic table on the banks of Tannery Brook, a stream that runs through town. 

The tortillas are handmade from local non-GMO corn, and the taco options range from chicken to barbacoa to vegetarian. Plus, the frozen margaritas are muy ricas!

Tinker Taco
54 Tinker Street

Village Green Bed & Breakfast 

In the center of Woodstock, you’ll find a small square and a charming storybook Victorian B&B. Known as the Village Green, it features the fantastical assemblages Merlin and Fantasy Boy, whose faces are embellished with hundreds of lustrous glass beads and whose bodies are covered in ceramic figurines, which instantly caught our attention. 

Village Green Bed & Breakfast
12 Tinker Street 

Tinker Toys Too

Tinker Toys Too, named after the street, not the toy, has been delighting kids of all ages for over three decades, thanks to its owner, Suki Beeh. Whether you’re looking for stuffed animals, storybooks, or educational wooden puzzles and games, you’ll find imaginative items throughout the store. Every shelf is filled with a delightful selection of classic and new toys, from Colorforms to Kewpie-like Sonny Angel figurines. These are toys made to last for years of play and discovery.

Tinker Toys Too
5 Mill Hill Road

WAAM (Woodstock Artists Association & Museum) 

WAAM, bam, thank you ma’am! This gallery is a great spot if you’re looking for a break from shopping. Since 1919, WAAM has been showcasing an eclectic mix of local talent and celebrating Woodstock’s long history as an arts haven. Whether you’re into paintings, sculptures or photography, there’s always something fresh to catch your eye. The museum also houses an impressive permanent collection, featuring works by notable artists like Milton Avery and Yasuo Kuniyoshi, giving you a peek into the creative roots that helped shape this quirky town. There’s a $10 suggested donation. 

WAAM (Woodstock Artists Association & Museum)
28 Tinker Street

Casa Ziki

The eye-catching entrance of Casa Ziki drew us in like a brightly colored flower attracting a pair of hummingbirds. There was no turning back once we saw the Georgian-style pediment, awash in a combination of tangerine and lavender — a custom design by the local duo Headspace. It definitely sets the tone for what awaits within. 

This modern homewares boutique, with locations in Brooklyn and Woodstock, is co-owned by wife and husband Sylvanna Kiss and Sasha Zinshtein. Inside, you’ll find a colorful selection of well-designed décor, playful accessories, lighting, art and pieces by local makers. Whether you’re shopping for yourself or someone else, you won’t regret stopping by.

Casa Ziki
35 Mill Hill Road

Early Terrible

We ended our delightful day in Woodstock at Early Terrible, the wine and cocktail bar and sister property next door to the Mud Club. A twisted column topped with a silver tankard and a peculiar-looking ogre (or perhaps a golem or troll?) peeking out from behind it marked the start of the gravel path that led us there.

The interior is dark and moody, while the patio fits in with the whimsical aesthetic that’s simultaneously rustic and glam. It’s filled with delightful details, from glittering disco balls and weathered wood planks to tufted leather couches and ornate cut-glass chandeliers. 

A sprawling root structure climbs above the bar and stretches outward, leaving you feeling as if you’ve followed Alice down the rabbit hole and tumbled into a magical place.

The cocktail menu offers an imaginative selection of signature drinks. I ordered the Smoke Signals, a blend of Banhez mezcal, a dash of amaro, tamarind purée and pineapple in a glass rimmed with a smoky house-made chili salt, while Wally opted for the Bramble, a refreshing concoction made with gin, crème de cassis and lemon juice. My parents each ordered beer, and the four of us shared a wood-fired sourdough pizza. Note: If you’re visiting on a weekday, don’t get your hopes up — pizza is only served on the weekends.

Early Terrible
45 Mill Hill Road

Feeling Groovy

Woodstock turned out to be our favorite spot in the Hudson Valley. The town’s blend of artistic spirit, quirky shops and laidback atmosphere make it the perfect place to explore and chill. Whether you’re browsing the boutiques or taking in some local art, it’s hard not to fall under Woodstock’s groovy spell. –Duke

Vanderbilt Mansion: Gilded Age Opulence in the Hudson Valley

Explore the Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site in Hyde Park, New York, with its original furnishings and garden. 

Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site

We call it the Hamptons for Brooklynites. The Hudson Valley is known for its charming small towns, cultural attractions, natural beauty — and close proximity to New York City. And since Wally and I were spending a long weekend with my parents in this part of New York state, I was eager to find something we’d all enjoy doing together. 

Wally, Duke and Poppa hang out before their tour.

No trip with my parents is complete without touring at least one historic landmark, and the region has plenty to choose from. Unfortunately, Olana, the Persian-inspired house museum of Frederic Edwin Church — a major figure of the Hudson River School of American landscape painters — was temporarily closed in preparation for an upcoming exhibit, so we opted for the Gilded Age “country house” of another Frederick.

This particular Frederick was the third son of William Henry Vanderbilt and grandson of the self-made multimillionaire, Cornelius “Commodore” Vanderbilt — the man who inspired the term “robber baron” and amassed the family fortune in shipping and railroads. To me, the Vanderbilt family is synonymous with extraordinary wealth, designer jeans and one silver fox, aka Anderson Cooper. So as a “Duke” myself, it seemed only fitting to visit one of Dutchess County’s most notable estates. 

Mema and Poppa are always up for a good time.

The turn-of-the-century mansion turned national historic site is perched on a natural bluff high above the Hudson River on the outskirts of Hyde Park, New York, about six miles north of Poughkeepsie on Route 9, and is a short distance from Springwood, the birthplace and lifelong home of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the 32nd president of the United States.

The Pavilion, now used as the Visitor’s Center, was constructed in just 60 days. 

The Pavilion

Our first stop after arriving was the Visitor’s Center, a Georgian Colonial structure with a captain’s walk and porticos supported by Doric columns. These columns are actually brick pillars concealed by a material called staff, a mixture of plaster, jute fibers and horsehair. Often described as “counterfeit marble,” staff is cast into molds to resemble carved marble. The same material used to cover the buildings of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Illinois. 

Originally referred to as the Pavilion, it was built in just 66 working days after the Vanderbilts acquired the property in May 1895. It replaced the Langdon Carriage House and served as the living quarters for Frederick and Louise while they oversaw the construction of the main house.

To prevent scandals, single men visiting the property would stay in the Pavilion, while unattached women slept in the nearby mansion.

Inside, Wally and I purchased tickets for the guided tour which were $15 per person, though my dad used his U.S. National Parks annual pass for military veterans to get my mom and him in for free.

The interior is styled like a gentlemen’s sporting lodge, complete with a large central fireplace and walls displaying a collection of mounted trophy heads of animals. It should be noted that Frederick himself didn’t hunt and strictly prohibited hunting on the property. 

The building later served as the guesthouse for male visitors — you couldn’t have single men and single women sleeping under the same roof, after all. 

Before our tour of the historic home, we followed a path leading to the formal gardens. As we crossed the expansive, meticulously manicured lawn in front of the mansion, I noticed my father admiring its orderly nature and could imagine him daydreaming of riding his latest John Deere lawn mower over it.

The marble fountain, depicting a young boy stepping on the head of an unusual-looking dolphin, has been restored.

The Formal Gardens

The gardens and grounds reflect the passion for horticulture shared by the estate’s previous owners. In the early 1800s, Samuel Bard established gardens and a greenhouse filled with native and exotic plants. He imported trees, flowers, herbs and shrubs from across Europe and Asia. The lone ginkgo tree standing in the middle of the south lawn is believed to have been planted by him in 1799. 

Dramatic pergolas form a grand entrance to the gardens.

Bard’s approach was influenced by the principles of picturesque landscape design, which he studied during his time in Edinburgh, Scotland. Incidentally, as a doctor, he also performed a life-saving operation on the newly inaugurated President George Washington in 1789, removing a large and painful tumor from his left thigh.

Each year, volunteers plant around 6,000 annuals in the formal gardens.

After Bard’s death, his son sold the estate to his father’s former business partner, David Hosack, also an accomplished physician and avid horticulturist. Hosack was a professor at the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Columbia University and in 1804 tended to Alexander Hamilton’s fatal injuries after his duel with Aaron Burr. 

This statue of an odalisque, or harem member, was sculpted by Antonio Galli in the mid-19th century. The pool was being repaired when we visited.

Driven by his passion for botany, Hosack established the first formal gardens on the estate and built greenhouses to shelter his exotic plants. He enlisted the expertise of Belgian-born landscape architect André Parmentier who gave the grounds a park-like atmosphere. 

Roads, bridges and lawns were carefully designed to enhance the natural landscape, while large areas were deliberately left in their wild state. Today, much of Parmentier’s original design remains unchanged. 

This saucy statue was known as “Barefoot Kate.”

The four of us entered the formal Italian-style gardens at the northwest corner, where Wally and I left my mom and dad to linger at a table outside the tool house with miscellaneous items available for anyone to take, using an honor system. 

“Barefoot Kate” isn’t really barefoot!

We continued up the gravel path and through the upper terrace gardens, where volunteers from the Frederick William Vanderbilt Garden Association were tending to the annual plants. This nonprofit works closely with the National Park Service to restore the gardens to their 1930s appearance. 

Ahead of us stretched a walkway lined with cherry trees, leading to a brick loggia and reflecting pool. A white marble statue of an odalisque known as “Barefoot Kate,” stood in the central niche, appearing to delicately test the waters with her toe. On closer inspection, you can see she’s actually wearing sandals and isn’t even barefoot. The reflecting pool was closed for maintenance during our visit, but the vignette was still striking. The path continued down a flight of steps to the rose garden with a pavilion overlooking Crum Elbow Creek.

For those who might be curious, crimson roses were Frederick’s favorite and were delivered to his bedroom each morning. Louise preferred yellow roses, which she insisted be placed on the Louis XVI-style table in the drawing room.

Louise particularly loved roses and had part of the garden devoted to them.

Wally is always willing to visit a garden.

Duke sittin’ pretty

Flowering trees with gorgeous shades of pink can be seen in the hills beyond the gardens.

After meandering through the sprawling gardens, we met up with my parents and returned to the Pavilion, where we joined the group of visitors who were waiting in anticipation of meeting our guide. 

The Vanderbilt Mansion is a prime example of Beaux Arts architecture, a style characterized by its grandeur and classical elements, popular in the Gilded Age.

The Country House 

Mark Twain first coined the term “The Gilded Age” when he published his satirical novel The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today in 1873. The term refers to the economic boom between the end of the Civil War in 1865 and the turn of the 20th century. 

The Vanderbilts were certainly emblematic of the era’s excess and grandeur. Frederick and Louise had an impressive real estate portfolio, with residences in Manhattan; Bar Harbor, Maine; Newport, Rhode Island; and a Japanese-inspired retreat on Upper St. Regis Lake in the Adirondacks. Yet, they sought a country retreat in the bucolic Hudson Valley. 

Frederick was a director of 22 railroads, including the New York Central Railroad, the Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad, and the Chicago and North Western Railroad. Despite their substantial wealth, the old-money families of the area, such as the Livingstons and the Beekmans, whose wealth went back at least three generations, labeled Vanderbilts “nouveau riche” and found them to be distasteful and crass.

Most recently, the property they desired belonged to Dorothea Langdon, whose father, John Jacob Astor, purchased it for her and her husband, Walter, in 1840.

A gilt bronze Louis XVI-style revolving dial clock, featuring the Three Graces holding a globe, by Henry Dasson, sits atop a table with a rare deep purple porphyry stone top.

Frederick and Louise bought the property for under $25,000 and hired the prestigious architectural firm of McKim, Mead & White to replace the existing home with a new, larger version. 

Frederick and Louise Vanderbilt. Are you surprised she was the outgoing one?

Charles McKim studied at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, and the home’s design reflects many elements of classic Beaux Arts style. Completed in 1898, its exterior is sheathed in Indiana limestone over a steel and concrete structure. Unlike its predecessor, the new house rose a full three stories. 

Meanwhile, New York decorator Ogden Codman and architect Stanford White were tasked with furnishing the 54-room home with $2.25 million worth of museum-quality paintings and tapestries, and incorporating a range of European antiques and finely crafted period reproductions. 

Despite its grandeur, the impressive 45,000-square-foot structure was considered “modest” in comparison to the opulent homes of Frederick’s siblings, such as George Washington Vanderbilt who erected the ostentatious Biltmore in Asheville, North Carolina. 

Completed in 1899, the Hyde Park house featured all the latest innovations: electricity powered by a hydroelectric generator in Crum Elbow Creek — which according to our guide was a full decade before other homes in the town would experience this marvel themselves — central heating from coal-fired furnaces, and indoor plumbing. In 1936 the Otis Elevator Company electrified the existing hand-powered elevator. 

The cost to complete the Vanderbilt Mansion was $660,000, which, adjusted for inflation, is roughly equivalent to $48.65 million today, excluding the furnishings.

A tapestry hanging in the Vanderbilt Mansion, Hector Bids Farewell, from the 17th century, shows the Greek hero of the Trojan War in Renaissance style dress.

While Frederick was described as quiet and introverted, Louise (who went by Lulu) was social and philanthropic and loved to entertain. She frequently hosted lavish parties, galas and balls at the Hyde Park estate, including an annual strawberry and ice cream festival for the community. She would also ride through town on a horse-drawn carriage during Christmastime and deliver presents to the children of Hyde Park. 

And while they entertained friends now and then, for the most part, it was just the two of them — along with loads of servants — about 60 to be exact. Of these, 17 were employed in the house, two in the Pavilion, and 44 on the grounds and farm. Thirteen men cared for the gardens and lawns alone. When guests stayed in the Pavilion, additional cooks and maids were hired from the town of Hyde Park.

The front doors open to the reception hall, where you could sit on the sofa and admire the topless busts that support the mantel over the fireplace.

The Reception Hall

The main floor of the Vanderbilt Mansion was primarily used for entertaining. The first room we entered was the spacious reception hall, designed in an elliptical shape, lending it a sophisticated feel, similar to the Federal-style Oval Office in the White House. The octagonal opening in the ceiling enhances this geometric design, allowing natural light to flood the hall from the skylight above.

The great hall is furnished with a pair of matching tufted sofas, Italian throne chairs, and a mantelpiece bought from Raoul Heilbronner, a German-born art and antiques dealer in Paris. A 16th century tapestry bearing the Medici family crest hangs above it, suggesting that the family’s lineage dated back to the Italian Renaissance. 

When Wally expressed surprise that there were a pair of topless caryatids supporting the mantle, our guide replied that the Victorians didn’t mind nudity — as long as it was done in a classical style.

Guests would meet in the home’s foyer before sitting down for a seven-course dinner in the dining room, a different wine being served with each course. The men and women would then split off to two separate parlors — women to talk about fashion and the like; men to discuss business. They would then convene in the drawing room before heading off to bed at midnight.

A collection of beer steins and a mounted elk's head adorn Frederick Vanderbilt’s cozy den. 

The Study and Den

The first room to the left of the reception hall is Frederick’s study,  mahogany-paneled with vaulted ceilings, a built-in desk and intricately carved wood panels. These architectural elements feature whimsical scenes of animals and cherubs, and were salvaged from a European château before being shipped to Hyde Park. 

Unusual for the time, the study has its own bathroom — so Frederick could go about his business without the staff knowing. 

The attached den has a bookcase holding about 400 volumes, mostly fiction and travel, along with Frederick’s textbooks from Yale. 

Louise disliked the ceiling mural in her sitting room of Aurora and Tithonus by American painter Edward Emerson Simmons, so much she had it painted over. It was restored in 1962.

The Gold Room

Louise’s reception room was a feminine counterpoint to Frederick’s masculine study and was used for serving tea, sherry before dinner and gossip conversation. The coved and gilded plaster ceiling includes a mural by American impressionist painter Edward Simmons titled Aurora and Tithonus and was inspired by the mythological paintings of René-Antoine Houasse at Versailles. Apparently Louise hated it and had it painted over in 1906. Thankfully it was uncovered and restored by the National Park Service in 1962. 

You can imagine the games of whist that were once played at these small tables in the drawing room.

The Drawing Room

To the left is the south foyer, which leads to the drawing room. This room features a pair of marble fireplaces and walnut paneling, and is furnished with a blend of antique Renaissance pieces and Louis XV-style seating. 

The drawing room, designed in the French Renaissance style, was often the center of social activity, where guests would gather for conversation, music and games.

After dinner, the ladies would retreat to the drawing room, where a demitasse of coffee and liqueurs were served. Meanwhile, the men lingered in the dining room for another 30 minutes before joining the women for an evening of cards — often bridge — charades or dancing.

The dining room could seat 18 elite guests.

The Dining Room

The dining room mirrors the scale and size of the drawing room. It includes a table that can be extended to seat 18 guests. Beneath it lies an Isfahan Persian rug, one of the largest in the world, measuring 20 by 40 feet and believed to be over 300 years old. 

Like other rooms in the home, the furniture is a reproduction of the Louis XV period. 

The central mural in the dining room, painted by Edward Emerson Simmons

The coffered and gilded ceiling was salvaged from an Italian palazzo, and installed to fit the space. The central mural was painted by Edward Emerson Simmons, a prominent member of Stanford White’s circle of artist friends. 

The blue and white Ming Dynasty vessel at the base of the grand staircase is estimated to be over 500 years old. When the Vanderbilts lived here, it was used as a planter for a towering 20-foot palm tree.

The Grand Staircase

Roll out the red carpet: The grand staircase, with its sweeping wrought iron balustrade, has 10 steps leading up to a landing along the west wall, followed by another 10 steps to an east-facing landing, then 10 more steps heading west to a third landing, and finally nine steps east to reach the second floor.

The second floor is equally as impressive as the first. The elliptical central gallery is surrounded by a cast-stone balustrade and bedrooms, ranging from modest guest quarters to opulent his-and-hers rooms modeled after the Petit Trianon at Versailles.

This marble sculpture depicts the infant Hercules strangling one of the snakes sent by the goddess Hera to kill him in his cradle.

Niches hold marble sculptures of Eros and Psyche, along with Persephone, Greek goddess of spring and queen of the underworld.

Seven years later, the Vanderbilts enlisted New York architect Whitney Warren to redesign certain elements of the house. Warren removed the coved skylight (technically a laylight) atop the second story and replaced it with a flat frosted glass laylight. The wood balustrade around the opening on the second floor was removed to make way for a cast-stone balustrade and a deep plaster cove, embellished with lattice-work panels and oval medallions with female figures, was added to the ceiling of the second floor, beneath the new laylight.

Louise Vanderbilt’s bedroom and boudoir were designed after Marie Antoinette’s private rooms at Versailles.

One of the guest rooms at the Vanderbilt Mansion

Up on the third floor, of the 19 rooms, 11 belonged to female servants. Each morning floors were cleaned, silverware polished, porches swept, and 50 to 60 bouquets of fresh flowers were arranged throughout the home. The generosity of the Vanderbilts extended in many directions and was often expressed in donations of flowers to local churches and hospitals. 

Compare this simple setup for the servants with the lavish decadence upstairs.

The Servants’ Hall

In an affluent household like this, servants were expected to be as invisible as possible, working behind the scenes to keep everything running smoothly. The staff usually arrived a day before Frederick and Louise to prepare the house. They had their own set of stairs and living spaces and were the first to rise and the last to retire for the night.

For the final part of the tour, our guide led us to the less grand service staircase, where we followed him down to the servants’ quarters. This was a simple and functional space with long corridors running north and south. 

Directly beneath the dining room was the kitchen, where meals were prepared. Food was then sent up to the butler’s pantry on the first floor via a large dumbwaiter before being served in the dining room. 

The kitchen downstairs

The basement also housed the unfussy servants’ lounge, which served as both a dining and sitting room where the staff could spend their leisure time.

Accommodations on this floor were for the male servants and included single rooms for the three butlers, a room for visiting valets, and quarters for the day and night men. 

Additionally, the basement contained four storage rooms, two laundry rooms, an ironing room, a wine cellar and an ice room.

The laylight acts as a focal point of the Vanderbilt Mansion.

From Private Estate to Public Heritage: The Journey of the Vanderbilt Mansion

Everything in the house remained as it was when Frederick passed away on June 29, 1938, at the age of 82. Following his death, the first detailed archival records of the interiors were created. The P.J. Curry Company conducted a thorough inventory of the mansion’s contents, while Rodney McKay Morgan photographed many of the rooms for real estate purposes. The New York Times published photographs of the public rooms in 1940, and an album of snapshots, assembled by Fred and James Traudt that same year, is preserved in the home’s archives.

Since the couple had no children, the mansion was bequeathed to Frederick’s niece, Margaret Louise Van Alen. There was just one catch: She had no intention of living there and tried to sell the estate for $350,000, even reducing the price to $250,000. However, with World War II looming, and a country still recovering from the Great Depression, no one was really in the market for a mansion in Upstate New York.

Fortunately, President Roosevelt persuaded Van Alen to donate 211 acres, along with the mansion and its contents, to the National Park Service. The estate was preserved for the nation, renamed the Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site, and in 1940 opened to the public. According to the local Eagle News, 1,338 visitors toured the home within the first 10 days of its opening. 

Fireplaces were a sign of wealth during the Gilded Age — so they were included, even when there was a central heating system installed as well.

The Lowdown 

The Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site grounds are open to the public every day of the year, from sunrise to sunset. Tickets and visitor information are available in the Visitor Center, located in the building near the parking lot. 

Admission is $15 per person and children 15 and under are free. The tour is free if you have the National Parks annual pass. 

The hour-long tour was an enjoyable experience and gave us a glimpse into the lives of Frederick and Louise and their mansion. The visit takes you through the first and second floors, as well as the service basement. –Duke

At 45,000 square feet, the Vanderbilts’ holiday home featured 21 fireplaces, 14 bathrooms and 25 bedrooms.

Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site

119 Vanderbilt Park Road
Hyde Park, New York 12538

Plaza de España: Where History Meets Artistry

Discover the stunning tile alcoves in this iconic landmark from the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition (and a Star Wars movie).

There’s talk that city officials might actually start charging admission because of overtourism in the Plaza de España.

It was love at first sight. Wally and I were instantly captivated by the cuisine, history and diverse architecture of Andalucía, the southernmost region of Spain. On our first trip there, we spent a couple of idyllic days with our friend Dan in Sevilla. We both agreed that when we returned, we’d plan to spend more time in the capital city of Andalusia.

Even the railings of the bridges are gorgeous in the Plaza de España.

Earlier this year, we got our chance and stayed at an incredible Airbnb in Seville close to the Casco Viejo, or Old Quarter, with a rooftop view of the Catedral de Sevilla. One of the places we wanted to revisit was the Plaza de España, which was within walking distance from our accommodation. The city is quite walkable, flat and easy to navigate. Of course, this will depend on your level of mobility and whether you’re willing to walk (we always are).

Unlike other expositions, where most structures were temporary and torn down after the event, the elaborate Andalusia Pavilion was built to be permanent and was constructed using traditional materials such as brick, ceramic, iron and wood.

A Brief History of the Plaza de España

The Plaza de España includes the Pabellón de Andalucía (Pavilion of Andalusia), which was built to showcase Spain’s industrial and technological achievements at the 1929 Exposición Ibero-Americana (Ibero-American Exposition). 

This popular destination is nestled among the trees and flowers of Parque María de Luisa, which was formerly the private gardens of the Palacio de San Telmo. The land, donated to the city in 1893 by Infanta María Luisa Fernanda de Bourbon, Duchess of Montpensier, now serves as the city’s primary green space.

One of 48 portrait medallions from ceramicist Pedro Navía’s Triana studio depicting illustrious figures from Spain’s history, including this one of King Alfonso X “el Sabio” aka the Wise, who ruled from 1252-1284. 

The idea of hosting a fair in Sevilla was first proposed by civil engineer Luis Rodríguez Caso in 1908 as part of an extensive urban development project designed to boost economic growth and improve trade relations with Spain’s former Latin American colonies. 

Construction began in 1914 under the supervision of prominent architect Aníbal González. Unfortunately, World War I interrupted these plans, and delays were further exacerbated in 1918 by a particularly virulent strain of the H1N1 virus, estimated to have claimed 260,000 lives in Spain before waning a year later.

The plaza currently houses numerous administrative offices. Our friend Jo, an expat from the U.K. living in Spain, admitted to us that while the space is gorgeous, it also reminds her of the hours she spent in a bureaucratic nightmare of immigration red tape.

Stunning architecture and rich history come together at the iconic Plaza de España in Sevilla.

Visiting the Plaza de España

The Plaza and Fountain

The monumental structure, covering 538,196 square feet (50,000 square meters), was designed by González in the Regionalist style, which combines elements of Baroque, Mudéjar and Renaissance Revival. The grand fountain, added by architect Vicente Traver y Tomás, rises from the center of the plaza courtyard and was inspired by the Montjuïc fountain in Barcelona. (It was off during our visit due to a severe drought that had lasted for most of the year.) 

The porte-cochère acts as the grand entrance of the Plaza de España, now home to administrative offices.

Flamenco dancers often perform beneath the columned central portico of the Pabellón de Andalucía at the Plaza de España.

Head to the upper gallery for a shaded walk and a great way to see the beauty of the plaza unfold below.

The original plans for the plaza didn’t include a fountain, but town officials insisted on adding one, much to González’s dismay. And according to local lore, that’s why the statue of González, standing at the axis of the pavilion’s crescent, faces away from the fountain.

Local lore has it that the likeness of architect Aníbal González is turned away from the fountain —added by Vicente Traver y Tomás — because he wasn’t a fan of the feature.

The main structure is capped by a pair of domed towers that were originally planned to be much taller. However, concerns arose that they would end up dwarfing La Giralda, the iconic bell tower of the Seville Cathedral. To ensure this wouldn’t happen, they were shortened to 243 feet (74 meters) high — 77 feet less than La Giralda.

The South Tower of the Plaza de España stands about 243 feet (74 meters) tall.

Between 2007 and 2010, the plaza underwent a meticulous 14 million euro renovation, which included the installation of ceramic lamp posts and railings around the canal, restoring the landmark to its former glory. About €5 million was used to replace the pipes and update the canal’s water supply system. While the building’s various government offices aren’t open for tours, you can still admire the interior colonnade and access the upper floor balconies to take in a view of the plaza from above.

In the Córdoba alcove, the hand-painted azulejo mural portrays the moment the city surrendered to King Ferdinand III of Castile. The Torre Campanario of the Mezquita-Catedral de Córdoba is visible on the left, while the Torre de la Malmuerta stands on the right.

The Tiled Alcoves

As you walk around the central plaza, vibrant color is everywhere — every possible variation and combination of greens and blues, ranging from the aquamarine of the shallow shore to the cerulean blue of the deep ocean, with a visual jolt of cadmium yellow.

The outer rim of the plaza’s pavilion has 48 alcoves with plinth-style benches, clad in azulejos, glazed ceramic tiles produced in Triana, a neighborhood renowned for its ceramic artists, across the river from Sevilla’s historic center. 

Among the four dozen tile and ceramic murals representing the provinces of Spain in Seville’s Plaza de España, the painted tiles from Ciudad Real show Don Quixote in armor, as the noble knight he imagined himself to be, preparing to battle windmills alongside his squire, Sancho Panza.

Each shrine-like space is dedicated to a different Spanish province, and includes a tile map of its territory, its coat of arms and a tableau depicting a historical event or cultural scene from the region.

Pillared shelves topped with pináculos, ceramic finials, flank the alcoves. Initially, I assumed these shelves might have been for holding votive candles, but I learned that they once held pamphlets with information about each province during the exposition. 

This vibrant alcove at the Plaza de España features a colorful tableau for Badajoz, depicting King Alfonso IX of León’s recapture of the city from the Muslims in 1230 CE.

Beautiful details cover almost every inch of the plaza, many of which are the work of ceramicist and sculptor Pedro Navía y Campos. His craftsmanship can be seen in the 40 portrait medallions honoring prominent figures from Spain’s history that adorn the spandrels of the porticoed gallery.

Charming rowboats glide across the canal, offering a unique and serene way to experience the beauty of Plaza de España.

The Bridges

The Venetian-style footbridges that gracefully arch over the canal add a picturesque charm to the plaza and beautifully complement the symmetry of the pavilion.

Elegant bridges span the canal, blending Moorish, Renaissance and Spanish architectural styles.

They’re named after the four historical kingdoms of Spain: Castile, León, Navarre and Aragón. These bridges connect the open courtyard to the main building and galleries. Their blue and white balustrades were crafted by ceramist Manuel García Montalván. The administrative building is surrounded by a 1,690-foot-wide (515-meter) moat, where visitors can rent rowboats and leisurely paddle around. Wally and I haven’t done so yet — but we plan to in the future. 

Star Wars fans will particularly love visiting the Plaza de España, as it was a filming location for Theed Palace in Naboo where Anakin and Padmé fall in love during Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones.

Movies Filmed at Plaza de España

The Plaza de España has been used as a filming location for a few well-known movies, including Lawrence of Arabia (1962), where it served as a backdrop for Cairo, Egypt, and Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones (2002), when Anakin and Padme, followed by R2D2, arrive on Naboo and walk through the colonnade of the Palace of Theed. Most recently, it appeared as the palatial complex of an eccentric autocrat in The Dictator (2012) by Sacha Baron Cohen.

Plaza de España, a stunning architectural marvel in Sevilla, boasts a grand semicircular building, vibrant ceramic tile decorations and a serene canal, making it a captivating symbol of Spain’s artistic and cultural heritage.

The Lowdown

While we were exploring, we witnessed a wannabe influencer who clearly expected everyone to move aside as she directed her husband to take a photo of her standing on the stairs as if she were the only one there. When the crowds didn’t clear for her to get “the perfect shot,” she had a meltdown and stormed off, leaving her husband with their baby and stroller to chase after her.

Don’t be this woman. She threw a tantrum when other tourists refused to step aside so she could get her perfect shot.

The Plaza de España is located near the entrance of Maria Luisa Park across from the Universidad de Sevilla (University of Seville) and is about a five-minute walk following Avenida de Isabel la Católica. 

Even the staircases of Plaza de España are adorned with exquisite tilework.

If you’re planning on visiting during the daytime be sure to wear sunscreen to prevent sunburn and bring bottled water to stay hydrated, as the majority of the plaza is open and exposed. 

There aren’t any public bathrooms within the main pavilion, but there are pay toilets in a compact building at the front of the plaza, which cost 60 céntimos to use.

Paseo de Isabel la Católica offers a peaceful stroll amid lush greenery, with Plaza de España on one side and Parque de María Luisa on the other.

The Plaza de España is currently free to enter, but concerns about managing overtourism and the costs of preserving the historic site have prompted city officials to consider imposing an entry fee for non-citizens. 
Whatever the outcome may be, we suggest spending a lazy afternoon admiring this special place. –Duke

 

Museo de Málaga: Art, Archaeology and Awe

Explore the Malaga Museum, a tribute to the past that feels completely current in the Palacio de la Aduana. 

The Malaga Museum has an impressive fine art collection, including Gladiadores/La Meta Sudante (Gladiators/The Meta Sudans) by José Moreno Carbanero from 1882.

Málaga, one of the world’s oldest cities, isn’t short on sunlight, history or art. With its dizzying array of attractions, the city offers much to explore. The Centro Histórico, a pedestrian-friendly area, is home to many notable sites, including the Museo de Artes y Costumbres Populares (Museum of Popular Arts and Traditions), the Renaissance-style Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Encarnación (Málaga Cathedral) and modern art institutions like the Centre Pompidou Málaga. Nearby, the Alcazaba fortress stands guard on the hillside above a Roman amphitheater, connected to the Gibralfaro Castle by a fortified walkway.

The building that houses the museum is called the Palacio de la Aduana and was the customs house for the busy port.

History of the Museum of Málaga

A standout among these cultural treasures is the Museo de Málaga (Museum of Málaga). Housed in the Palacio de la Aduana (Customs House), this magnificent 17th century Neoclassical landmark is nestled between the verdant Parque de Málaga and the Ayuntamiento de Málaga (Málaga City Hall) in the heart of the Old Quarter.

Its construction was initiated in 1787 under King Charles III in response to Málaga’s growing maritime trade, and was conceived by architect Manuel Martín Rodríguez, who drew inspiration from Madrid’s palatial Real Casa de la Aduana (Royal Customs House). 

“With over 2,000 works of art and more than 15,000 artifacts in its archaeology collection, the museum offers a vast and captivating chronicle of Málaga’s history.”

Although the project actually started in 1791, it encountered several delays, including Napoleon’s failed attempt to conquer Spain during the Peninsular War, which pushed its completion date to 1829.

Nearly two centuries after its construction, the renovated venue reopened to the public, preserving the building’s original character while updating its interior to meet 21st century standards for accessibility. 

The museum unites the collections of the Real Academia de San Telmo (Saint Elmo Academy of Fine Arts) and the Museo Arqueológico de Málaga (Málaga Archaeological Museum) under one roof. With over 2,000 works of art and more than 15,000 artifacts in its archaeology collection, the museum offers a vast and captivating chronicle of Málaga’s history.

A mix of unmarked artifacts, including green glazed pottery and religious statuary, is displayed on wooden shelves inside the Visitable Warehouse section of the Museum of Málaga.

Ground Floor Visitable Warehouse

After paying the admission fee of €1.50 (approximately $1.63) per person, Wally and I began our visit on the ground floor with the Almacén Visitable (Visitable Warehouse), a storeroom of sorts, where objects are organized by time period and displayed in drawers and on shelves and wooden platforms. (It reminded us a bit of the ramshackle Egyptian Museum in Cairo.)

A collection of Hellenistic pottery, including terracotta heads, pig figurines and feet fills one of the display cabinets.

Among the artifacts were ancient vases, pots and fragments of centuries-old marble column capitals, feet, torsos and heads, displayed alongside 19th century oil paintings culled from the Fine Arts collection.

The warehouse is fun to explore, with its jumble of marble architectural fragments, a pair of Christ figures missing their crosses and a cathedral bell.

Look for the scale models, including one of the Roman amphitheater and (we think) the interior of Málaga Cathedral.

Wally and I oohed and ahhed over a scale model of the Alcazaba and Gibralfaro. In another part of the room, a glass display case held several devotional sculptures, including religious images of the Virgin Mary, underscoring the reverence and care with which these objects are treated.

A view of the palatial courtyard of the Museum of Málaga. The classical terracotta busts were added in 1885 to commemorate Queen Isabella II’s son Alfonso XII.

Central Courtyard 

Following our tour of the storehouse, we wandered through the expansive central courtyard, graced with palm and orange trees, a fountain and informational panels recounting the building’s history, including Queen Isabella II’s visit in 1862. Terracotta busts, added to honor her son Alfonso XII’s visit 23 years later, have adorned the uppermost balustrade of the courtyard gallery ever since.

When we visited, there was a special exhibit on the hometown hero Picasso.

Special Exhibit on Picasso

The port city is the birthplace of Pablo Picasso and, during our visit, it was hosting the exhibition La presencia de Picasso (The Presence of Picasso) to mark the 50th anniversary of his death. 

A selection of lithographs from Picasso’s Faunes et Flore d’Antibes series at The Presence of Picasso exhibition.

On a separate note, the Museum of Fine Arts previously occupied the Palacio de Buenavista (Buenavista Palace), but it was unceremoniously packed up and placed in storage in 1997 to make way for the Museo Picasso Málaga (Málaga Picasso Museum).

Fauno Blanco Tocando el Aulós (White Faun Playing the Flute) by Pablo Picasso, 1946

The exhibition featured lithographs from the Faunes et Flore d’Antibes series and engravings from Deux Contes, both drawn from the Fine Arts permanent collection. Wally, a big fan of mythology (and the male form), especially liked the collection. 

A glimpse of what awaits you at the beginning of the Fine Arts section of the museum.

First Floor: Fine Arts

Upstairs (keep in mind that in Europe the first floor is what we Americans would call the second floor), the Fine Arts section covers a broad spectrum of 19th century artworks, including pieces by old masters like Antonio Muñoz Degrain, Bernardo Ferrándiz y Bádenes, Fernando Ortiz y Comarcada, José Gutiérrez de la Vega and Pedro de Mena, among others. It also features works by prominent members of the Málaga School of Painting, such as Alfonso Ponce de León y Cabello, José Suárez Peregrin and Pedro Sáenz Sáenz.

Los Saltimbanquis (The Acrobats) by José Suarez Perigrín, 1932

El Juicio de Paris (The Judgment of Paris) by Enrique Simonet y Lombardo, 1904

Después de la Corrida (After the Bullfight) by José Denis Belgrano, 1890

Estudio de Anatomía Masculina (Study of the Male Anatomy) by Bernardo Ferrándiz y Bádenes, 1862

Tarquin y Lucrecia (Tarquin and Lucretia) by José López García, 1988

Alegoría de la Historía, Industría y Comercio de Málaga (Allegory of the History, Industry and Commerce of Málaga) by Bernardo Ferrández and Antonio Muñoz Degrain, 1870

The first piece you’ll see as you enter these galleries is a maquette, a final study for the ceiling of the Teatro Cervantes by the Valencian-born painter Bernardo Ferrándiz. In 1870, he and Degrain were commissioned to decorate the theater. Ferrándiz depicted himself as Mephistopheles, the demon who barters for Faust’s soul, on the stage set. 

The female figure, possibly a symbol of the city, sits atop a shrine holding a caduceus— a symbol associated with Mercury, the god of commerce and prosperity. Other aspects of the city’s booming cultural and economic success, including agriculture, industry, transportation and fishing, highlight its strategic location as a trading port.

However, to me, some of the most interesting pieces came from religious institutions. Like the Museo de Bellas Artes de Córdoba, this museum’s collection includes significant works of art, images and architectural elements seized from the deconsecrated monastic properties, including the ex-convents and monasteries of the Poor Clares of Santa Clara, San Bernardo, La Merced and San Pedro de Alcántara.

Mudejar ceiling corbels 

Next, you’ll notice a set of four carved oak corbels, or brackets. They originally adorned the ends of timber beams in the Convent of La Merced and became part of the academy’s collections in 1915. These architectural elements illustrated the sins and vices parishioners were expected to renounce before entering the holy space.

Head of Saint John of God by Fernando Ortiz y Comarcada, circa 1755-1765

Fernando Ortiz y Comarcada’s sculptural style was greatly influenced by Pedro de Mena — in fact, for many years, this work was attributed to Mena. However, documents found for the production of four sculptures at Parroquia Santiago Apóstol in Málaga confirmed Ortiz as the artist. This head is the only surviving piece from that series, which was largely destroyed during the protests of 1931. An anonymous citizen saved this from the flames and left it at the parish door in a basket, ensuring that future generations could appreciate its artistic quality.

Ecce Homo by Pedro de Mena, circa 1676-1680

Throughout his lifetime, Pedro de Mena was in high demand, securing a steady stream of public and private commissions across Spain and Latin America. It’s believed that Ecce Homo came from the estate of El Retiro in Málaga and was first owned by Bishop Alonso de Santo Tomás, who hired Mena to carve images for his private oratory while the sculptor was working for the bishop’s order at the Monastery of Santo Domingo.

(Postrimerías) A Moro Muerto, Gran Lanzada, or (Dying Moments) Kicking a Man While He’s Down by Bernardo Ferrándiz y Badenes, 1881

This small painting might seem unremarkable at first glance, but it has an interesting story behind it. The artwork was inspired by an actual event that forever changed the artist’s life. Bernardo Ferrándiz y Badenes had a physical confrontation with Juan Nepomuceno Ávila, a fellow academy member, municipal architect and close friend of the Marquis of Salamanca. The dispute arose because Ávila denied financial support to the San Telmo Fine Art School, where Ferrándiz was the director at the time.

Ávila used the incident to have Ferrándiz expelled from the institution. Ferrándiz subsequently was accused of attempted murder and imprisoned. Although the exact details of the altercation remain unclear, the event left Ferrándiz shaken. The once-prominent artist faced social ostracism, which plays out in his artwork, where he depicted himself as the skeleton of a cat, with Ávila as a mouse. He inscribed the following on the frame: “Fierce king, yesterday I gave you my laws to respect, and today, with death upon me, even you come to trample the dust of what I was.”

Additionally, the museum has a small collection of Spanish modern art up to the 1950s, including works by José López García, José Moreno Villa, Juan Fernándo Béjar and, yes, Picasso. 

This Italo-Corinthian helmet most likely belonged to a high-ranking warrior. It was unearthed in 2012 by archaeologists excavating a site between Calles Jinete and Refino in Málaga’s historic quarter.

Second Floor: Archeological Section 

The second floor (third floor to you Americans) galleries focus on archaeology, with the first two rooms dedicated to the private collection of Jorge Loring Oyarzábal and his wife, Amelia Heredia Livermore, also known as the Marquis and Marquesa de Casa Loring.

The Lorings had a passion for antiques and collecting. One of their most important acquisitions was several pieces from the collection of 18th century Córdoban antiquarian Pedro Leonardo de Villacevallos, which included capitals from Medina Azahara, Umayyad-period tombstones and sculptural relics from Ancient Rome.

A collection of marble busts, and funerary plaques from the Villacevallos collection acquired by the Lorings

This 18th century religious sculpture, depicting the realistic severed head of Saint John the Baptist, is paraded through the streets of Málaga during Holy Week. 

A mosaic fragment depicting Priapus, the son of Venus and Bacchus. Commonly shown with a massive erection and basket of fruit, it’s no surprise he’s a god of fertility.

The remaining halls cover a vast historical timeline, showcasing how each civilization — from prehistory through the Phoenician, Roman, al-Andalus and Christian Reconquest periods — contributed to the city’s cultural mosaic. In recent decades, artifacts unearthed during construction and in excavations carried out by the University of Málaga have been added to the collection.

A detail of the center of a 1st century Roman mosaic depicting the goddess Venus surrounded by a menagerie of birds.

Speaking of mosaics, a 1st century floor panel depicting the birth of Venus, the goddess of love, sex and beauty, takes center stage in the museum’s Roman galleries. Discovered in 1956, it was found lining the floor of a Roman villa in the nearby town of Cártama. This impressive mosaic measures 13 by 20 feet (4 by 6 meters). It shows the naked goddess reclining on a giant scallop shell above a couple of dolphins.

The 2nd century Roman statue known as La Dama de la Aduana, discovered while digging the foundations of the museum in 1791, welcomes visitors at the entrance.

A Trip Back in Time at the Museo de Málaga

To sum up our experience, the Museo de Málaga was more than just a tourist attraction. It was a journey through epochs that celebrates Málaga’s multifaceted identity and enduring spirit. Its artworks and archaeological objects are well organized and clearly marked in both English and Spanish. As you walk through its halls, the city’s colorful history comes alive. –Duke

Museo de Málaga

Plaza de la Aduana 1
29015 Málaga
Spain

 

The Art of Olive Oil Production at LA Organic

From ancient groves to modern architecture: Take a tour of LA Organic, dedicated to the production of award-winning organic olive oils and co-founded by Philippe Starck.

José, Wally, Duke and Jo enjoyed learning about olive oil production at LA Organic — and tasting the goods afterward.

When I reflect on our time in the South of Spain, particularly our culinary adventures spent with our friends Jo and José, aceite de oliva, aka olive oil, immediately springs to mind — it’s essentially the foundation of Andalusian cooking.

“It takes about five years for an olive tree to mature. They typically yield between 33 to 44 pounds of olives, resulting in 2 to 5 liters of oil each year.”

Each morning starts with a humble piece of toasted bread, drizzled with olive oil and topped with grated tomato, to accompany a morning cup of coffee. Jo and José always had fresh molletes, a traditional ciabatta-like bread that they picked up from a local shop near their flat in Málaga. 

Not to mention boquerones, a shareable and delicious appetizer of tender anchovy filets marinated in vinegar and olive oil that we consumed with gusto — something my younger self would have ignorantly declined.

A view of Philippe Starck’s avant-garde La Almazara, a mill museum that was partially built when we visited

A Starck Contrast

During our visit to Ronda, after visiting the church of Santa María la Mayor, Jo and José arranged for the four of us to take a guided tour of LA Organic (pronounced like the Californian city). The artisanal producer in the Andalusian countryside is located about two miles (three kilometers) outside of the charming town of Ronda, and was originally established in the 1990s as La Amarilla. It has since developed into an impressive full-scale business.

This collaboration involves Spanish investment banker Pedro Gómez de Baeza, whose family owns LA Amarilla, French designer Philippe Starck, and renowned oenophile Michel Rolland. Gómez de Baeza and Starck met in Madrid during the opening of Beatriz, a former theater converted into a restaurant. The interior was reimagined by the designer, and the pair became fast friends.

The sunny yellow entrance to the Greenhouse at LA Organic features an oversized single green olive and leaf, the same design used on their packaging, which was created by Starck in 2009.

LA Organic: What’s in a Name?

The “LA” in its name refers to La Amarilla, one of the centuries-old fincas (farms) within the sprawling complex, where more than 200 years ago, a small sisterhood of nuns lived, harvested and produced olive oil from the fruit of its ancient grove, some 800 years old — a tradition that the Gómez de Baeza family continues to this day.

Part of the interior the Greenhouse will have you seeing red — an homage to the local passion for bullfighting.

LA Organic Tour

After pulling into the red dirt parking lot and stepping out of the car, we exchanged curious glances, and a smile spread across my face. In the distance, among the neat rows of gnarled, knotted olive tree trunks, stood a crane and a large cuboid building, with an expressive eye peeking out from its terracotta-colored façade — the avant-garde future mill and museum of LA Organic, designed by Starck. It’s officially called La Almazara (The Mill), but nicknamed “El Toro” due to the huge horn planned to be added to its exterior.

The four of us took the red dirt path leading from the parking lot to a bright yellow building emblazoned with a massive green olive, the same one that appears on its packaging. I would later learn that this building is known as the Greenhouse, but to my eyes it looked more like a barn. 

The back of the long, narrow Greenhouse has an outdoor patio.

Inside, we were provided with wireless headsets to help us hear our guide during the walking tour. We also watched a short video that recounted the origins of “liquid gold” in the Mediterranean and outlined the educational vision of LA Organic.

Once the video ended, our group followed our guide Úrsula outside. She began by telling us that the estates of LA Organic encompass 64 acres (26 hectares) and, in addition to the aforementioned ancient olive grove of La Amarilla, has over 6,000 different varieties of olive trees. 

There are art installations by Starck in the groves.

Duke and Wally loved the giant mirror on the grounds.

As we followed Úrsula through the groves, she explained that it takes approximately five years for an olive tree to mature. During this time, each tree typically yields between 33 to 44 pounds (15 to 20 kilograms) of olives, resulting in 67 to 269 fluid ounces (2 to 5 liters) of oil per year.

A rustic guardaviña, a stone building used for storing tools and providing shelter during the heat of the day, as well as protection from rain, stands among the olive groves.

Olive Oil Production at LA Organic 

We learned about the painstaking process of producing their exceptional organic olive oil. Úrsula explained that on harvest day, which would be happening in November, workers use 22-foot-long (7-meter) wooden sticks, known as a vareo, to beat the branches. Nets are spread beneath the trees to catch and prevent the falling fruit from landing on the ground, which would taint the harvest. 

This majestic, olive tree is the oldest on the property — ringing in at 800 or so years!

The olives are then collected from the nets, transported to the Almazaras de la Subbética, a mill just under an hour away, and pressed shortly thereafter to preserve the integrity of the flavor. This results in an olive oil with the lowest possible acidity, without any chemical additives or fertilizers. 

One of the varieties at LA Organic, the hojiblanca olive tree is typical of central Andalusia and is characterized by the white tone on the underside of its leaves. 

Like a Virgin

Seven organic varieties grown here are used for production, including the soft and fruity arbequina, grassy hojiblanca, briny manzanilla, peppery pajarera, slightly bitter picual (named for its pointy shape), herbaceous picudo and verdial. Rolland applies his wine skills to masterfully blend these varieties, depending on the desired intensity of the oil.

Like coffee and wine, weather, terrain and soil conditions play a crucial role in determining both the quantity and quality of olives at LA Organic, with the most fruitful groves cultivated in the fertile hills. 

Úrsula explains how drought has been a big problem of late, with decreased yields driving up the price of olive oil across Spain. (P.S. Using an umbrella is a good idea, with much of the tour exposed in the blazing heat.)

Dealing With Drought

Olive oil production in Spain dropped by about one-third in 2023 due to a prolonged drought caused by a string of heatwaves and nearly three years of reduced rainfall. 

As the world’s leading producer of olives and olive oil, Spain supplies approximately 40% of the global output, with around 75% coming from the Andalusian region. Jo and José told us that, with the price of this cooking staple increasing, locals had resorted to stealing oil from restaurants.

Úrsula explains how olives are processed at LA Organic using the cold press extraction method. 

More Than a Splash in the Pan

The tour culminated where it began, at the Greenhouse, with a tasting of their oils. LA Organic specializes in extra virgin olive oil (EVOO), which means that all their oils undergo a single pressing, using the cold-press extraction method. 

This process involves crushing the olives into a pulp while keeping the temperature no higher than 80.6 degrees Fahrenheit or 27 degrees Celsius (the “cold” part of the process), followed by centrifugation to separate the oil from the pulp. Lower-quality oils — those that aren’t extra virgin — are often crushed multiple times and at higher temperatures to extract more oil from the fruit.

How to Taste Olive Oil

The tasting session featured four different kinds of olive oil, which we sampled both with and without bread. Our instructions were to pour a small amount of oil into our tasting cups and swirl it gently to release its aroma. We lifted the cups to our nose and took a deep inhalation, noting the differences in smell between the mild arbequina and picudo, intense yet smooth picual, hojiblanca and arbequina blend, as well as the grassy 100% hojiblanca oil. 

Our tasting spread

When tasting olive oil, take a small sip and allow it to coat your mouth. Pay attention to the flavors and aromas present. It’s common to experience a peppery sensation in the throat, as well as notes of grassiness and bitterness, which are indicative of high-quality oil. 

Inside the Greenhouse, where you can taste the oils, order drinks and nibblies, and buy some bottles to take home.

We bought a couple of bottles of the milder LA Organic Suave and a bottle of organic balsamic with sherry vinegar to take back to Chicago with us. (We’re ashamed to say that the bottle of olive oil we purchased as a gift ended up being used in our kitchen.)

A corten steel structure featuring a square cutout frames a stunning view of the Grazalema Sierra mountains.

The Deets

I highly recommend a tour of LA Organic as a way to learn about the cultivation and production of Andalusia’s most important export. 

The walking tour and tasting cost $21 (20€) per person and lasted approximately 45 minutes, with an additional 45 minutes spent sampling their oils. 

Our guide, Úrsula, spoke both English and Spanish fluently. She was friendly, enthusiastic and patient, taking the time to share her knowledge and answer all of our questions. We left feeling inspired by their commitment to sustainability and were impressed by the quality of LA Organic’s olive oils. –Duke

LA Organic 

Carretera Ardales Ronda A 367
Kilometro 39,5
29400 Ronda, Málaga
Spain

 

Rick Bayless Garden Tour: A Flavorful Experience

Join the renowned Topolobampo and Frontera Grill chef in his Bucktown garden on an unforgettable Chicago culinary tour. And be sure to try the begonias. 

When celebrity chef Rick Bayless opens up his urban garden for tours, snatch up tickets — they go fast.

One of the many things that I love about Chicago is that you can be a tourist in your own city. There’s so much to see and explore. So when I received an email announcing the opportunity to take a tour of Chef Rick Bayless’ urban production garden, I immediately texted my husband, Wally, to gauge his interest. Thankfully he was as excited as I was, and we were able to secure a late August visit through the Tock app. 

The Bayless home’s front door

We arrived about 15 minutes early and joined the other guests waiting outside the Bayless residence in a quiet street in Chicago’s Bucktown neighborhood. It’s situated adjacent to the 606, an elevated park that used to be a rail line.

Because we had a little extra time, Wally and I went up onto the 606 and stood on our tiptoes to get an aerial view of Rick’s garden. 

You can catch a peek of Bayless’ garden from the 606 elevated park.

After the previous tour group left, we entered through the side gate and gathered around the outdoor kitchen. The late afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow over the patio as Wally and I eagerly awaited the start of the tour. We were served classic shaken margaritas and I must admit that I was somewhat awestruck as Rick himself appeared, warmly welcoming us and sharing the fascinating history of his home.

The “welcome” margaritas were too pretty not to photograph. 

Polly’s Polka Lounge

He began by telling us that he and his wife, Deann, had been looking for a property in the city where they could live and cultivate a production garden for their restaurants, Frontera Grill and Topolobampo. After three years of searching, they were discouraged and had nearly given up. So when their real estate agent excitedly called and said, “I found your place!” Rick admitted to us that he was initially skeptical, adding that they waited three days before scheduling an appointment to see it.

At the time of the Baylesses’ viewing, a cheap plastic Old Style beer sign with the name Polly’s Polka Lounge still hung outside of the two-story brick building. Built in 1895, it was originally a tavern that served the community of Eastern European immigrants who had settled in Bucktown. “First of all you have to understand what a tavern was in 1895,” Rick said. “We think of a tavern as synonymous with a bar today, but it wasn’t back then.”

It served as a social hub, where residents could gather and connect with others who shared the same language and traditions. In an era when many families lived in small efficiency apartments with limited space to cook, taverns like this one played a crucial role in providing meals. These establishments were equipped with a full kitchen and served up the familiar, comforting dishes of their homeland. 

“The garden adheres to organic and biodynamic principles, meaning that no pesticides, herbicides or chemical fertilizers are ever used.”

Rick recounted how he walked into the main room of the former tavern and thought, “This is where I want to live.” He was captivated by the open floor plan, 14-foot-high tin-plate-covered ceiling and terrazzo floor, which bore a beautiful patina from decades of beer dripping onto the floor where the bar once stood. 

Many of the flowers in the garden are edible.

Fun fact: When Rick asked the owners where the bar was now, he was told that it was sold to a buyer in Ireland, who had it dismantled, shipped across the Atlantic and reconstructed. He mused about the curious journey of a bar made in Chicago by Eastern Europeans now residing in a pub somewhere in Ireland. 

When Rick saw the outdoor area, which is the size of three city lots, he fell even more deeply in love with the property, and he and Deann immediately put in an offer. 

A boulder behind the adjoining property had a face drawn on it by the Baylesses' granddaughter — which Wally, of course, couldn’t resist sitting on.

Wally and Duke think the garden tour is worth the price of admission. And if you’re lucky, you’ll have Rick himself as your guide!

They’ve now lived there for nearly three decades, and as Rick tells it, it was kismet. “This is just amazing because I have always been in the hospitality business,” he said. “My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles were all in the restaurant business, and I grew up in it and then got into it myself.” 

In addition to the former tavern where Rick and Deann reside, there’s also a three-flat next door, where their daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter live.

Bayless tells us about the behind-the-scenes drama of the pibil episode of his show.

The Pitfalls of Pit Cooking in Chicago

Before we left the grilling area, Rick pointed out an earthen rock-lined pit. This traditional pre-Hispanic cooking method involves adding firewood to heat the rocks to a temperature between 800° and 900°F. Historically, people would dig a pit, line it with rocks, build a fire, add meat wrapped in aromatic leaves and bury it to prevent oxygen from getting in. The protein cooks underground over a period of six to eight hours, using the residual heat of the rocks. Rick explained that on the Yucatán Peninsula, this method is used for making cochinita pibil, while in Southern and Central Mexico, it’s used for barbacoa. 

Rick recounted how he wanted to feature this method on his PBS cooking show, Mexico: One Plate at a Time. He got his television crew excited, and they started digging at 8:00 in the morning. However, he had overlooked one crucial detail: the shallow roots of the maple trees growing in that part of the yard. He proceeded to tell us that what appears to be him single-handedly digging the hole was actually a labor-intensive effort involving three men wielding pickaxes for nearly six hours to tackle the stubborn roots. 

“When you watch any kind of television, especially reality television, don’t believe it,” Rick added. “There’s a lot going on behind the scenes that you don’t see.”

Bayless’ local restaurants include Topolobampo, Frontera Grill and Xoco.

Garden Party With Rick Bayless

We followed our host to the heart of the garden, which features a grapevine-covered pergola that yields between 250 to 300 pounds of sweet, juicy Concord grapes annually (the same variety used in Welch’s Grape Juice). Once harvested, the thick-skinned grapes are laboriously processed through a food mill, cooked down and sweetened with sugar. The resulting pulp is used in sorbets and pies at Frontera and Topolobampo. 

The Concord grapes adorning the pergola are used in sorbets and pies.

Adjacent to the pergola is a plot dedicated to growing hoja santa, which translates to “holy leaf” in Spanish. The large heart-shaped leaves are extensively used in Mexican cuisine as a wrapper for tamales, poultry, meat and seafood, which are then steamed or baked. Its flavor is reminiscent of black licorice and root beer, and in Texas, where it grows wild, it’s known as the sarsaparilla plant.

Rick gave us an overview of the main production garden, which holds a combination of raised beds, traditional beds and containers. A few of the raised beds produce salad greens, continuously replanted throughout the season, along with aromatic herbs such as basil, lavender, lemon verbena, marjoram, spearmint and thyme. These provide the restaurants with an array of seasonal, locally sourced produce. 

Many of the fruit, veggies, herbs and flowers are used in dishes at Bayless’ restaurants.

The garden adheres to organic and biodynamic principles, meaning that no pesticides, herbicides or chemical fertilizers are ever used, and it emphasizes the holistic relationship between plants, animals and soil. Additionally, there are two resident chickens, Grace and Frankie, and a small pond that’s not filled with koi but with goldfish from PetSmart, as well as an apiary buzzing with honeybees. 

Colorful zinnias

These cacti are resilient enough to survive harsh Midwestern winters. Bayless planted a single paddle years ago that has since grown to this size.

Raspberries add a burst of color and flavor, not to mention Mexican sunflowers, nopal cactus and butternut squash, grown for both their blossoms and fruit. These thrive alongside hanging baskets of Begonia boliviensis, whose edible red flowers pack a delightful sour citrus punch. 

Wally couldn’t believe how tasty the begonias were. It was like something Willy Wonka would create. (He went back for seconds.)

Rick urged us to sample anything from his garden, which we did, and by far, our favorite ended up being the surprisingly tart begonia blossoms. 

Fun fact: According to Rick, the cilantro we’re familiar with today originated in Southeast Asia and was introduced to Mexico by Spanish conquistadors in the 1800s. However, this doesn’t mean there wasn’t a cilantro-like herb already in existence south of the border. In the garden, you’ll discover an indigenous aromatic, the grass-like pipicha, native to Southern Mexico, with a flavor akin to cilantro.

After exploring the gardens, we used the bathroom and snuck a peek of the kitchen, where Mexico: One Plate at a Time is filmed. It’s filled with well-loved pots and pans, plant-covered windowsills and cabinets lined with souvenirs from Rick’s travels.

I found Rick to be a sincere and passionate teacher. It was a privilege to visit and experience his excitement about his garden as he spoke with us — if only for a magical hour and a half. –Duke

We were served guacamole and ceviche — which Bayless wittily clarified wasn’t made using the goldfish in the garden pond.

Rick Bayless Garden Tour

The highlights

• Guided tour of the garden (we’ve heard his gardener, a charismatic young man, often leads these, but we were lucky enough to have had Rick Bayless himself as our host)

• Welcome cocktail and light Mexican bites (we had guacamole and ceviche)

• Learn about the history of the home and garden and its role in Rick’s restaurants.

• See the diverse array of fruit, vegetables and herbs grown in the garden.

• Gain insights into Rick’s sustainable gardening practices.

• Eat as much flora as you want!

The kitchen in Bayless’ home is the one featured on his cooking show.

The details

Cost: $75 per person

Duration: Approximately 90 minutes

Availability: Select dates throughout the year

Location: Rick Bayless’ private residence in Bucktown in Chicago

Visit Tock to book a tour — if they’re available. 

Note:

• Tours sell out quickly, so snatch up a spot as soon as possible.

• The tour isn’t wheelchair accessible.

• Children under the age of 12 aren’t permitted.

Santa María la Mayor’s Islamic Roots and Catholic Grandeur

A repurposed mosque, a connection to Hearst Castle, Virgin Mary processional statues and rooftop views in Ronda, Spain. 

The unassuming façade of Santa María la Mayor reflects the adjacent Ayuntamiento (City Hall) and a Moorish minaret-turned-bell-tower. 

After enjoying a late lunch in Ronda, Spain, on the terrace at Don Miguel, the restaurant of the hotel with the same name, we agreed to visit the Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor (Church of Saint Mary the Great). Wally and I were traveling with our friends Jo and José and were delighted to have them as our local guides for the weekend.

The food was good, but the view overlooking the steep El Tajo gorge and Puente Nuevo bridge was even better. The limestone cliffs plunge 390 feet (120 meters) to the Guadalevín River below the bridge connecting the historic old town (La Ciudad) to its modern counterpart (El Mercadillo). 

“Architect Julia Morgan used the bell tower of Santa María la Mayor as the model for the ones at Hearst Castle, the estate of publishing tycoon William Randolph Hearst in San Simeon, California.”

Ronda’s iconic Puente Nuevo, or New Bridge, certainly isn’t “new” — having been completed in 1793 — but it is the most photographed.

As we navigated the cobblestone streets and approached the church, we paused to gaze up at its unusual double-galleried façade, which looks more municipal than religious. The balconies were added during the reign of Felipe II and were a privileged place for nobility to watch the equestrian tournaments held in the square.

José told us that the American architect Julia Morgan used the bell tower of Santa María la Mayor as the model for the pair at Casa Grande, the main house of Hearst Castle, the elaborate hilltop estate of publishing tycoon William Randolph Hearst in San Simeon, California.

Ronda didn’t just leave a mark on Hearst; it also captivated Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles, both passionate bullfighting enthusiasts who found refuge here. Welles even chose to have his ashes interred in a dry well on the Recreo San Cayetano estate of his good friend, the matador Antonio Ordóñez, on the outskirts of Ronda.

A copy of the illuminated Libro de Horas de la Reina Isabel (Queen Isabella’s Book of Hours). The original is part of the Cleveland Museum of Art’s collection.

Sacred Transformation: The Evolution of Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor 

The church used Ronda’s principal mosque as its foundation. But long before that, the site was allegedly a Roman temple to Diana, goddess of the hunt. 

The conversion from mosque to church began in earnest following the Reconquista of Ronda by Christian military forces in 1485. By the following year, King Fernando II (1479-1516) reconsecrated it as an abbey dedicated to the Virgin of Encarnación.

A statue of Mary as the Queen of Heaven. One interpretation of the crescent moon she’s standing on is that it represents her perpetual virginity.

During the reign of Charles I (1519-1556), its status was elevated to “colegiata” — a collegiate church — led by a clergy of ordained ministers without the direct involvement of a bishop. Its official title is the Real Colegiata de Santa María de la Encarnación la Mayor de Ronda, but locals commonly refer to it as the Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor due to its 19th-century designation as a “high parish” or “parroquia mayor.” Mass is held on Sundays and public holidays at 1 p.m. and on Thursdays at 8 p.m. April through September. 

Traces of its Islamic past are evident in the square-shaped body and arched windows punctuating the bell tower’s brick exterior, which originally served as the minaret of the mosque. It was probably more cost-effective to appropriate and reuse than to completely rebuild. Even so, the renovation of Santa María la Mayor required substantial funding and took nearly two centuries to complete. 

The remains of the mihrab, a semicircular prayer niche covered with stylized Arabic calligraphy and indicating the direction of Mecca, is visible from within the vestibule. Beyond is the gift shop, where we purchased admission for 4.50€ or about $5 per person to gain entry.   

This three-tiered chandelier suspended from the central vault of the Renaissance nave includes 34 lights and 24,700 pieces of sparkling cut crystal.

Split Personality: The Interior of Santa María la Mayor 

Inside, the ornate space feels more like a cathedral than a church. Constructed in two phases, the Gothic half follows the floor plan of the former mosque, while the enlargement initiated after the earthquake of 1580 reflects the evolution of architectural styles that rose in popularity during its extended completion and renovations, including both Renaissance and Baroque elements.

This altar is an impressive example of Spanish Baroque, a style known for its exuberance, grandeur and rich decorative elements.

The Virgin de la Aurora shows Mary in her aspect as Our Lady of the Dawn, a beacon of hope and a source of spiritual guidance for Catholics.

Altar of the Sagrario

The central nave of the Gothic section features an ornate and detailed Baroque giltwood altarpiece. Standing within a niche beneath a Marian crown is the figure of the Inmaculada, the Virgin Mary, standing on clouds. She’s flanked by representations of her mother, Santa Ana; her father, San Joaquín; and the Arcangel San Rafael. Twisted Solomonic columns, covered with delicately carved grapevines and topped by Corinthian capitals, complete the tableau. During our visit, the revered image of the Virgen de la Aurora (Virgin of the Dawn) was displayed on an elaborate paso, or float used for processions.

The Christ child sits upon the shoulders of the giant Saint Christopher and holds a fancy rattle, er, globus cruciger, a small sphere with a cross affixed to its top, symbolizing his sovereign dominion.

Mural of San Cristobalón

The large-scale mural to the left of the altar depicts a larger-than-life San Cristobalón (Saint Christopher), the patron saint of travelers, carrying the baby Jesus upon his shoulders. It was painted by Rondenian artist José Ramos. 

The dramatic statue of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor (Our Lady of Sorrows) depicts the Virgin Mary with her eyes cast heavenward, heart pierced by a sword, her hands clasped in prayer.

Altar of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor

To the right is a highly ornate Churrigueresque-style altar framing a red velvet-lined niche holding the processional figure of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor (Our Lady of Sorrows), which belongs to the religious brotherhood of the Hermandad del Santísimo Cristo de la Sangre. The sculpture depicts the moment when Mary learns that her son will die for the sins of mankind. Her eyes are lifted upwards and her hands are clasped, holding a rosary. Most dramatically, her heart is pierced with a silver sword, and a pair of cherubs flutter menacingly beneath her — one appears to be holding a hammer, and the other, pincers.

The Renaissance-period choir screen is embellished with imagery of the apostles and other saints and has a lectern stand holding a 16th century antiphonal (choir book). 

Coro

The choir screen was a Renaissance addition and features intricately carved cedarwood reliefs depicting the apostles and other saints. It’s no accident that it was placed strategically at the nave’s center as it served as a partition to divide the church into two social classes: aristocrats to the front and parishioners to the back. The lectern stand supports a 16th century antiphonal (choir book), its musical notations intricately inscribed on pages made of vellum. 

The high altar of Santa María la Mayor has an elaborately carved wooden canopy that showcases the Holy Spirit, the Archangel Gabriel and the Virgin Mary.

Baldaquino of the Altar Mayor

One of the most striking elements of the church is the impressive baldaquino, or canopy, located on the high altar under the central dome of the Renaissance nave. Carved from wood, it consists of four slender, finely carved Solomonic columns that support a towering highly decorated cupola topped by an angel. 

The original altarpiece was destroyed during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) and replaced by the baldaquino from Nuestra Señora de los Ángeles (Our Lady of the Angels). 

Within the ornate structure are the Archangel Gabriel and the Holy Spirit in the guise of a dove visiting the Virgin to inform her that she will conceive and give birth to Jesus Christ. 

Be sure to climb up to the rooftop, like Duke did, for a view of Ronda from above.

Up on the Rooftop 

We passed through the doorway to the right of the altar and climbed the narrow steps of the winding spiral staircase leading to the roof and viewing deck.

Jo stands on a balcony overlooking the square and the Ayuntamiento, the City Hall.

While we were there, the late afternoon sun cast a soft, warm glow over the terracotta-tiled rooftops of the old city, and it was so clear that we could see the rugged Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance.

Views of the Old Quarter and the mountains beyond from the rooftop

Seen from above, the spiral staircase leading to the rooftop resembles a snail’s shell. 

There’s a long bench if you need to rest or take a moment to enjoy the view. Make sure to peek through the small door at the top of the staircase to take in a bird’s-eye view of the interior of the church.

A figurine of the Baby Jesus with outstretched arms was one of Duke’s favorite pieces in the church’s museum.

Back Down on Earth

After exploring the rooftop, Jo, José, Wally and I returned to the ground floor and wandered through the church museum. It had several glass-front cabinets displaying various religious objects: vestments (clergy apparel), chalices and sculptures, including a life-sized glassy-eyed baby Jesus, which I imagine might get placed in the church’s crèche on Christmas Day. 

The Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor is a short distance from the Puente Nuevo, but its location in the leafy park-like Plaza Duquesa de Parcent feels a world away from the overcrowded tourist area. –Duke

Colegiata Santa María la Mayor 

Plaza de la Duquesa de Parcent s/n 
29400 Ronda Málaga
Spain  

 

Itálica’s Rich Roman Heritage

Explore one of the largest amphitheaters (as seen on Game of Thrones!) and admire the impressive mosaics on a day trip from Seville to the ruins of the first Ancient Roman town outside of Italy. 

The House of the Birds is the largest complex at Itálica.

Since Wally and I were spending five days in Sevilla, Spain, we figured we could add the nearby Roman ruins of Itálica to our itinerary. It reminded us of visiting the ruins of Volubilis outside of the city of Meknès, Morocco (although the Spanish weather was much nicer). We both share a passion for history: Wally’s childhood interest in Ancient Rome matches my fascination with Ancient Egypt (which we were fortunate enough to experience together, but I digress). 

“The amphitheater was used as a filming location for ‘Game of Thrones.’

Thanks to some CGI magic, it served as the Dragonpit.”

The Venus of Itálica was unearthed in 1940. This is a replica — the actual statue is in the Archaeological Museum of Seville.

The archaeological park of Itálica (which Wally joking referred to as Italics) is located about 30 minutes northwest of Sevilla, in the municipality of Santiponce, and is one of the cultural points of interest along the Ruta Bética Romana, the Roman Baetica Route — an ancient Roman road that runs through the provinces of Sevilla, Cádiz and Córdoba. If you’re so inclined, you can walk it, though it’ll take you weeks. 

We had already done our fair share of walking, and since it was unseasonably hot, opted to take the 170A bus from the Plaza de Armas station, which typically departs every half hour from Sevilla. 

A replica of the 2nd century statue of Diana, goddess of the hunt, greets visitors to Itálica.

Roman Expansion: A Brief History of Itálica

Itálica was the first Roman city established outside of Italy and thrived from the 2nd to the 4th century CE. Its origins can be traced back to General Scipio Africanus’ victory at Ilipa (near Sevilla) in 206 CE. During the Second Punic War, Scipio’s tactical efforts against Hannibal and the Carthaginians focused on the lower Guadalquivir valley, and after conquering the region, he established the settlement for his veteran troops to live.

Itálica bore witness to the births of Trajan (53-117 CE) and his adopted son and successor, Hadrian (76-138 CE) who were the first Roman emperors born outside of Italy. 

A reproduction of a statue of the Roman emperor Trajan in heroic pose found in Itálica. The original can be seen at the — you guessed it — Archaeological Museum of Seville. 

Hadrian expanded the city to include the Urbs Nova, literally the “New City,” added an impressive amphitheater and elevated its status to colonia—the highest designation for a Roman city. Additionally, Itálica amassed significant wealth from the exportation of grain and olive oil grown in the fertile soil of the Gerena Depression. These goods were transported to the Guadalquivir River and shipped to Rome by boat.

However, by the 4th century, the combined impact of mass deforestation and poor agricultural practices left Itálica’s river port dry, ultimately causing the city to be abandoned.

Aside from a group of schoolchildren, we pretty much had Itálica to ourselves.

Visiting Itálica

After a short walk from the bus stop, Wally and I arrived at the park entrance. We purchased the very affordable admission: 3€ ($3.25) for both of us. It’s free for EU citizens. Bring some cash — they don’t take credit cards. 

Plaques and a milestone with Hadrian’s name on it

We made a detour to the restroom, which is located in a nearby building, where we saw a commemorative plaque bearing the names of individuals who financed the early excavations at Itálica, as well as a marble milestone inscribed with Emperor Hadrian’s name.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. Most exposed ruins, those not buried beneath sand or soil, were commonly pillaged and used as a source of building materials by whomever occupied the region after they had been abandoned. Additional bits were plundered during the French occupation of Spain, and in the 18th century, a mosaic called the Loves of Zeus was taken by Regla Manjón, the Countess of Lebrija, and incorporated into her palatial home in Sevilla. Several artifacts, including the erotic Abduction of Hylas, are displayed at the Museo Arqueológico de Sevilla (the Archeological Museum of Seville). 

In 1912, the complex was officially declared a national monument, ensuring its conservation and protection against further looting.

Start your visit to Itálica by exploring the amphitheater.

Game On: Exploring the Amphitheater

Situated just beyond the park’s entrance are the remains of the amphitheater. It was built between 117 and 138 CE and commissioned by Emperor Hadrian. When it was completed, it ranked among the largest in the Roman Empire and could accommodate up to 30,000 spectators — about half as many as the Colosseum in Rome, but far exceeding the scale required for a community of 8,000 inhabitants.

The interior portions are closed off to the public.

The site was used as a filming location and featured in the penultimate season of Game of Thrones. Thanks to some CGI-generated magic, it served as the Dragonpit, where three members of major houses have a historic meeting about a common enemy.

Attention, Game of Thrones fans! The amphitheater at Itálica, with some help from CGI, became the Dragonpit.

The amphitheater was the stage for the spectacle of bloodsport: gladiatorial combat, historic battle re-creations and animal hunts. Romans of all social classes attended, and the stand levels were carefully regulated and divided into a hierarchy based on wealth, gender and status. The lowest tier, or ima cavea, was closest to the action, reserved for the highest-ranking males. Women and the poor, meanwhile, sat or stood on wooden benches in the highest part of the stands, the suma cavea, which was covered by an awning to protect from the heat. 

The passage leading to the fossa beastiaria, where wild animals were caged before being released into the amphitheater to be “hunted”

The massive rectangular pit at the center of the arena, known as the fossa beastiaria, was used to house the caged wild beasts that appeared in the spectacles prior to being released for the entertainment of the audience.

A variety of rather well-preserved murals can be seen at Itálica — though many of them are missing their central images.

Main Street Mosaics

We paused by a sign where the remnants of the city wall stood. In Roman times, the entire city was bounded by a walled perimeter. From here, you can glimpse the main sewer line, which runs through the Cardo Maximus (Latin for Main Street).

Beyond the amphitheater, large villas of prosperous families and municipal buildings have been excavated, many with colorful well-preserved mosaics. 

The House of Exedra was a private club of sorts for the elite of Itálica.

Exedra, Exedra, Exedra

Spanning a surface area of 43,056 square feet (4,000 square meters), the Casa de la Exedra was one of the largest municipal buildings in Itálica. Due to its size and the inclusion of specific rooms, like the palestra (an open-air gymnasium) and latrine, historians have suggested that this structure probably served as a private club. Alongside the entrance were five tabernae, or shops.

At the heart of the complex is the peristyle, a garden courtyard featuring a curvilinear fountain. Adjacent to this was the exedra, a semicircular chamber with seating that served as a gathering place for upper-class citizens to engage in scholarly conversation. Originally, this area was covered by a high vault. 

It also featured a thermae, which consisted of a series of rooms designed for bathing with hot, lukewarm and cold water — caldarium, tepidarium and frigidarium, respectively — as well as a changing room for patrons.

Potty humor? The floor mosaic of the latrine is embellished with scenes featuring well-endowed pygmies battling cranes.

As we walked along the perimeter of the structure, we stopped to take a look at the latrine. Although it’s been reduced to a shell, it still retains its marble bench with keyhole-shaped openings. The room was open, and the “toilets” had no partitions between them. When nature called, Romans had no issue hiking up their togas to conduct their business in close proximity to one another.

Look how close you had to sit to other people while taking a dump. Could someone pass the sponge stick, please?

The bench is positioned above a channel where a stream of water once pushed the waste into the underground sewage system. An attendant would provide patrons with a tersorium, a sea sponge affixed to a wooden stick, which was used instead of toilet paper to wipe their nether regions. These communal sponges were then rinsed in running water and submerged in a large pot filled with vinegar to sanitize them. Eww.

“At least they used vinegar,” Wally said.

The god Neptune, king of the sea, rules over a variety of mythological water creatures.

Go Fish: The Neptune Building 

Although it hasn’t been completely excavated, the work carried out to date has indicated that one part of the Edificio de Neptuno functioned as a thermal bath, while another served as a municipal building.

Both structures cover an entire block, and the municipal building has intricate mosaics depicting Theseus and the Minotaur, along with a mosaic of Bacchus, the god of wine. The Theseus mosaic covers the floor of a grand hall and originally had a central panel portraying the divine hero within the Minotaur’s labyrinth. Meanwhile, the Bacchus mosaic features dancing maenads, satyrs, centaurs and tigers — figures typical of Bacchus’ entourage. Similar to the mosaic of Theseus, the depiction of Bacchus, the Greek Dionysus, is also missing.

At the time we visited, the mosaic was covered by netting for protection — but you can see a crocodile chasing a pygmy at the bottom.

The building that contained the bathhouse retains the remnants of its underground heating system. Within the frigidarium is the mosaic that gives the buildings its name. At its center is the sea god, wielding his trident atop a chariot pulled by two seahorses and surrounded by dolphins, fish molluscs and crustaceans. Its border includes scenes of fishing and combat with Egyptian iconography, depicting a hippopotamus, a palm tree, and the clearly popular but bizarre motif of pygmies battling cranes and crocodiles.

The remains of an oven from a bakery, one of the tabernae, or shops that lined the street-side of these luxurious villas.

Tabernae: Rome’s Retail Therapy

Tabernae could often be found along the perimeter of a household and served as an extra source of income for the owner of a villa. They included a variety of businesses, ranging from bakeries selling fresh loaves of bread to shops that produced small terracotta oil lamps called lucernes, and fullonicae, a kind of laundry or dry cleaner, where clothing was washed in a basin and agitated with a mixture of soda ash and urine. (Hey, apparently it worked.)

The main mosaic at the House of the Birds features various bird species, including a peacock, owl, rooster, pigeon, sparrow, heron, goose, parrot and mallard duck.

Pecking Order at the House of the Birds

The Casa de los Pájaros, also known as the House of the Birds, was the first domus, a private family residence, to be fully excavated in Itálica and likely belonged to an aristocratic family. Covering approximately 18,298 square feet (1,700 square meters), it’s divided into two primary spaces: a public area open to clients, tabernae and a semi-public area for those closely associated with the family; and a private area restricted to family members.

Kids on a field trip wander around the House of the Birds.

A room at the House of the Birds

A colorful, well-preserved mosaic

The semi-public area was arranged around a peristyle courtyard which would’ve been surrounded by a columned gallery. At the back of this courtyard, there was a niche known as a lararium that held small bronze figures dedicated to Lares and Penates, guardian deities that protected the household. The private rooms, including the triclinium (formal dining room) and cubicula (bedrooms) could be accessed from the courtyard. 

The portion of the mosaic showing Hylas, Hercules’ well-endowed boy toy, getting sexually accosted by nymphs has been removed and is now in the Archaeological Museum of Seville.

Hylas, the Horse Hung Hero

Yet another elite residence in Itálica is the partially excavated Casa de Hylas, or House of Hylas. The northernmost courtyard connects to an anteroom, which served as a passage to the room housing the mosaic of Hylas, after which the house was named.

This mosaic portrays Hylas, the favored companion and lover of Hercules, being seduced and abducted by nymphs while collecting water from a spring. I’m certainly no prude, but the mosaic has a scene that made me clutch my pearls. One of the nymphs has her hand wrapped around Hylas’ calf while the other is clearly pulling his dick.

As mentioned earlier, this section of the mosaic has been removed and is now exhibited at the Archaeological Museum of Seville, leaving the surrounding geometric-patterned mosaic incomplete without its central image.

A mosaic at the House of the Planetarium depicts the Roman gods who were associated with each day of the week. In the bottom right, for example, is Helios, who drove the chariot that pulls the sun across the sky. Not surprisingly, he’s paired with Sunday.

Out of This World: House of the Planetarium 

The last villa that Wally and I saw was the Casa del Planetario, or House of the Planetarium. The floor mosaic has seven medallions with depictions of each of the planetary deities who gave their names to the seven days of the week. This was Wally’s favorite, and he had to elbow some children out of the way to get a good look at it. 

Centaurs and tigers line the mosaic of Bacchus and Ariadne.

The centermost celestial body of the mosaic is Venus, whose likeness is depicted wearing a jeweled crown and necklace, perhaps an allusion to the brightness of this star. As a divinity, she’s associated with Friday, the sixth day of the Roman week, and her prominent position suggests that love, one of her attributes, moves the universe.

Surrounding Venus are Helios (Sunday), Luna (Monday), Mars (Tuesday) Mercury (Wednesday), Jupiter (Thursday) and Saturn (Saturday). 

The gladiator Wally celebrates yet another stunning win.

Tips for Itálica

We had an incredible time and spent about two and a half hours leisurely exploring the site. It exceeded my expectations. We were impressed by the sheer scale of the amphitheater and the quality of the mosaics. Except for a school field trip, complete with costumed chaperones dressed in Roman garb, the crowds were sparse, which made it feel like we had the place (somewhat) to ourselves. Plus, the majestic cypress trees dotting the landscape lend Itálica an atmospheric charm.

This elevated spot in Itálica offers a scenic view of the cobbled Roman road and the town of Santiponce.

On a practical note, remember to wear comfortable shoes for your visit and to bring sunscreen; there was little to no shade throughout the park. Also drink plenty of water. We brought two large bottles of water and snacks with us and were glad we did because there is no longer a café on the premises. 

If you’re seeking a fun half-day trip close to Sevilla, I highly suggest hopping on the bus to Itálica. The archeological site’s ancient charms will be part of the mosaic of your memories. –Duke

Mansions, Monuments and Museums of the Plaza de Jerónimo Páez in Córdoba

While exploring the historic quarter of Córdoba, Spain, admire the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo and Casa del Judío before you stop in the archaeological museum.

It’s easy to understand why Córdoba’s entire historic quarter earned its UNESCO World Heritage Site designation in 1985. As Wally and I explored the narrow cobblestone streets of la Judería, the city’s former Jewish quarter, our wanderings led us to charming plazas that opened up to reveal historic homes and restaurants with inviting outdoor seating, where you can sit and relax with the locals. 

Among these squares is Plaza de Jerónimo Páez, named after a descendant of the influential Cordobesan family responsible for the Renaissance-style Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo and the equally historic Casa del Judío. Having endured years of neglect, the plaza was renovated in the 1990s, when the archaeological museum was expanded.

During the city’s era of Roman occupation, known as Corduba at that time, this square served as the entertainment district, boasting one of the largest theaters in the empire. The partial remains of this historic structure are now displayed beneath the modern Archaeological and Ethnological Museum of Córdoba, located next to the atmospheric 16th century Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo.

From palace gardens to private residence to school to museum, the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo has had a rich history.

Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo

What initially caught our attention as we walked through the square was the gloriously decayed sandstone façade of the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo family — aptly named, considering their surname, Castillejo, translates to “Little Castle” — which is essentially what this home was.

A pair of life-size marble korai, female figures dressed in long tunics, and a Corinthian capital with acanthus leaves creates a striking vignette.

This lovely Roman mosaic includes motifs such as interlaced Solomon’s knot, vines, pomegranates and crescent-shaped pelta shields.

One of the many beautiful Mudéjar-style niches with scalloped arches within the palace courtyard — and the equally dashing Wally. 

The residence was renovated in the 16th century by Luis Páez de Castillejo and stands on the grounds of what were once the gardens of Ybrahim Ben Nacer Alfaqui’s palace. In 1538, he commissioned the prominent Spanish architect Hernán Ruiz II to oversee the redevelopment of the main courtyard, Renaissance-style façade and sculpted railing of the main staircase. Ruiz II collaborated with his father, Hernán Ruiz the Elder, on the contentious construction of the Capilla Mayor within the Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba.

The silhouettes on the cloth added a modern art feel to this area of the courtyard.

Besides serving as the Páez de Castillejo residence, the building was used as a school at the end of the 19th century, known as the Polytechnic Academy. And in 1959, it became the Archaeological and Ethnological Museum of Córdoba.

This impressive sculpture, known as the Thoracata of Córdoba and named after a type of Roman battle armor, depicts the massive torso of a hero — possibly Aeneas in his escape from Troy — wearing an intricate breastplate adorned with a pair of griffins.

Its exterior is similar to Ruiz II’s work on the Puerta del Puente, the principal gateway to the Roman Bridge in town, and, like the monument, was designed in the style of a triumphal arch. Among its notable features are a pair of porticos supported by Doric columns, with heroic figures positioned between them. Above the entablature, classical figures hold the family coat of arms. This imagery aimed to immortalize the Páez de Castillejo family as the living embodiment of discipline, loyalty and self-sacrifice to the people of Córdoba. 

This staircase features a sandstone railing designed by Hernán Ruiz II as well as a Roman mosaic depicting rearing horses drawing a chariot.

Be sure to go through that gorgeous gateway — it’s free and only takes a short while to stroll around the courtyard.

Initially, Wally and I stood there, gawking and uncertain about entering, but after we saw a man speaking to the guard stationed at the entrance, we decided to ask about the building. The guard informed us that it’s an extension of the modern archaeological museum and welcomed us to take a look around the interior courtyard. We walked around the first courtyard, which is dedicated to Roman archaeology, including mosaics and sculptures. However, unlike the adjacent institution, the artifacts on display here are not clearly marked.

Although it’s not open to the public, the exterior of Casa del Judío is worth pausing to take a look at.

Casa del Judío

Over the centuries, the enigmatic building located across from the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo has been inextricably linked to the Castilian royal family and the generations of noble lineages connected to them, including the Sousa, Haro, Armenia and Cárdenas families.

Originally a Mudéjar palace, the stately manor is also called the Palacio del Duque de Medina Sidonia, or the Palace of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. For, it was within these walls that the bastard son of Juana de Sousa and Henry II of Castile, Enrique de Castilla y de Sousa, aka the first duke of Medina Sidonia, was born.

While eating at La Cavea, we spotted a cool couple in front of the Casa del Judío.

Although it’s not open to the public, you can still admire its ceramic-tiled roof, vibrant fuchsia bougainvilleas and square tower with a hipped roof enclosed by a latticework screen. To the left of the doorway, sheltered by greenery, is a bronze bust perched atop a marble plinth immortalizing the Roman poet Marcus Annaeus Lucanus (39-65 CE), better known in English literature as Lucan. 

Lucan was the nephew of the philosopher-statesman Lucius Annaeus Seneca (Seneca the Younger). He attracted the favorable attention of the Roman emperor Nero but conspired with Gaius Calpurnius Piso in a scheme to assassinate Nero and install Piso as his successor. Ultimately, its failure led to Lucan’s arrest and his subsequent suicide at the age of 26. 

Today the home is more commonly referred to by locals as la Casa del Judío, or in English, the Jew’s House, in reference to Elie J. Nahamias, a Judeo-Greek businessman and its most recent owner, who passed away in 1994. Nahamias was a descendant of the pre-exile Sephardic communities that inhabited the Iberian Peninsula and assembled an impressive library of printed books and manuscripts spanning six centuries of Jewish history. His collection is held by the Library of the Alliance Israélite Universelle based in Paris, France. And although the property is privately owned by his children, you can still admire its beautiful exterior.

A cute location and a good option if you want a snack or drink while visiting the archeological museum — but otherwise you can find better food elsewhere in town.

Café-Bar La Cavea

The center of the square is taken up with a casual resturant, with tables placed under the shade of trees (with white umbrellas an additional barrier from the heat when needed), all sitting amid broken remnants of Roman columns. When we stopped by, there was live music, with a performer taking up station by the fountain.

Beware choco! Although our Spanish friends say it’s actually good, this one was rubbery and flavorless. If you really want to cringe, do a search for “cuttlefish.”

While the café gets points for its setting, the food didn’t impress us — especially since we ordered calamari but where told they had choco instead, which is very close. Imagine our dismay when we discovered that it not only looked like and and was practically the size of a bleached, deflated football, it tasted like one, too. (Wally had also made the mistake of Googling what cuttlefish look like, which didn’t do him any favors). I was recovering from heat stroke, so he choked down as much choco as he could before giving up.

Detail of an intricately carved Mudejar relief featuring sebqa work, a decorative technique characterized by the repetition of geometric and vegetal forms.

Hidden Gems

Our wanderings through the historic Plaza de Jerónimo Páez offered glimpses into Córdoba’s rich history, through its ruins, artifacts and storied mansions. This square is no longer the bustling entertainment district it was when it was home to one of the largest theaters in the Roman Empire. But it still captivates visitors with its antique structures and inviting energy. Be sure to admire your surroundings before you head into the archeological museum, which is worth visiting. –Duke

Plaza de Jerónimo Páez