Our royal wedding: Rolling out Northwestern purple in the global spotlight

The newly-created Duchess of Sussex, nee Meghan Markle, is probably the most famous woman in the world at the moment. A host of people, from green campaigners to fashion designers, feminists to handbag creators, are hoping to ride on her generous bridal train. Including me.

Meghan is, like me and more than 1,000 others living in her new home country, a graduate of Northwestern University. In the United States, we benefit from the reputational premium of our degree. From journalism to theatre, engineering to business, music to medicine, the appearance of this prestigious Top 20 institution on your CV impresses most and engenders respect from those who matter. Cross the Atlantic and forget about that. Few have ever heard of us.

So amongst all the other good Meghan is expected to do in the world comes the likelihood that she'll raise awareness of Northwestern overseas. The Northwestern University Alumni Club of the UK is eager to help. Which is how I ended up driving to Windsor at 2:30 in the morning, car packed with friends, lawn chairs and purple flags, to grab a good spot to wish our new duchess well. Here are some random observations from what was, for a few hours, the centre of the world.

The early bird gets the worm
We left the house at 2:30. In the car park queue at 3:15 for car park opening at 4. My intrepid advance party bailed out, loaded our foldable wagon with lawn chairs, Northwestern branded materials and breakfast and hiked the additional half mile to the parade route. My God, it's dark. Good thing Mr. Bencard insisted we take the lantern.

 I waited to park and joined them after my own hike. We remembered our clothing layers and waterproof things to sit on, but forgot how wet our feet would get. My God, it's cold. Why didn't Cristy wear socks? Fortunately, Meghan and Harry commemorative scarves also make handy foot-warmers.

 This is how you claim enough territory for 20 more people to join you at the front of the barricades.

The rest of the alumni start drifting in from 7 as the trains start running from London. We're at full strength by 9. Which feels like at least noon. When are they opening that Pimm's van? (Answer: 10am.)

Well done, Windsor
I was a resident of the Royal Borough for more than a decade and still miss it. Thus it's with a feeling of some proprietorial pride that I say this charming little town put on the best-managed big crowd event I've ever attended. Consider this: more than 100,000 people along the parade route and we never waited more than three minutes to procure refreshments. Never waiting at all for the loos, which were always clean and had been refreshed with toilet paper. Amazing, frankly.

Security pulled off the trick of being both extensive and pleasant. Temporary fencing turned the whole route into a series of chambers separated by narrow access points looked over by guards. Access from one bit to another was possible but took time; the town had laid on so many food vans and loos that once you were settled you didn't really need to move, anyway. Security (and other) staff were abundant but friendly, smiling and joking with the crowd.

That festival feeling
Meghan and Harry announced that they were after a "festival feeling". They got it. The weather helped; though freezing at 5 am, we were slathering on sun cream and shedding layers under azure skies by 10. Picnic blankets, hampers, bottles of bubbly and bands. These sorts of environments magically unlock British reserve. Strangers have conversations and share provisions. Everyone adopted the unusual number of Americans with good will, coaching them through the little oddities of the day. Lashings of fancy dress keep the crowds and the news photographers engaged.

Media merriment
After years of rolling out PR campaigns on behalf of big tech companies, it was nice to be doing some for a personal cause. We got our messages out, and had live moments of glory on CBS (US), CBC (Canada) and BBC radio. I turned down Sky because they booked me into their studio at 7:15 pm (I would be back home by then. The Sun (London) interviewed us but we didn't make the cut. We got a mention in the Sunday People (UK) with a great photo of Meghan reacting to a "university chant" as they drove by us, but the paper got their facts wrong: that was "Go U, Northwestern" delivered by our alumni group, not Kappa Kappa Gammas.

The university flag was waving in crowd scenes reportedly seen by 2 billion people around the world. Granted, you had to look for that N ... and probably wouldn't know what it was unless you had a personal tie ... but it's still a thrill to contemplate. We probably could have done more were it not for that "kettling" strategy that applied to media as well as private individuals. From about 10 am, nobody was moving.

A rubbish way to watch a wedding
Like many major events, if you want to actually have a good viewing experience ... stay home. I watched recorded television coverage after I got home to see what we missed. A 2:30 start followed by a nine-hour wait to see a 2-minute carriage pass by is not rational. Even if we have visual evidence that Meghan saw and appreciated our presence.

But that's not what this is about. It's the experience. A lovely day out with your friends, drinking in atmosphere and being a part of history. A moment when 10s of thousands of people, spreading to the horizon, wave flags and sing along to Stand By Me in an electric moment of community. Magic.

It's all about love
Michael Curry's evangelising sermon on the power of love reminded everyone that love is more than the romantic stuff. We were out there for love of university. A place that, in different ways for all of us, had shaped our characters and our lives. And had, at the same time, made us somehow all the same. I'd never met most of the 26 that I had organised the day for and spent 10 hours with. It didn't matter. In that way Northwestern events always seem to have, there was an instant comfort with my fellow alumni even though they ranged in age from 19 to 75 and came from a variety of backgrounds and fields. Across the generations, Northwestern chooses and shapes the same kind of people. I love spending time with them.

I'm sure Meghan would fit right in to that mix. She's welcome to drop by any of our alumni events if she ever needs a break from the royal gig. Somehow, I doubt she'll have time. I hope she doesn't mind if, while she gets on with her new life, we celebrate our connection in order to build the profile of our shared university. It does, after all, have a track record of instilling characteristics like a passion for excellence, a commitment to thinking globally and a need to give back to our communities. Meghan believes in those things and is about to make a career out of them. Others look at her and see an American actress turned duchess. We see a fellow graduate made good.

In Cordoba, the Middle Ages still burn brightly

Like Grenada, Cordoba has hitched its tourism wagon to the star of the glories of medieval, multi-cultural, Islamic Spain. That story reached its romantic end in Grenada, but it started here, and Cordoba was the capital of a sprawling empire for centuries. It also fell to the Christians earlier ... 1236 ... and the re-conquerors did everything in their power to obliterate memories of the past. Fortunately, they weren't completely successful and Cordoba's city centre is now a Unesco World Heritage Site thanks to the remarkable layering of its Roman, Islamic, Jewish and Christian legacies.

The place to start, as every travel article will tell you, is at the great mosque-turned-cathedral. It deserves its superlatives. On par with the Great Mosque of Damascus when it was built, it is arguably far more beautiful with its striped, double-horseshoe arches stretching to seeming infinity. And you're unlikely to get to Damascus any time soon, so best enjoy this one. The Christians turned it into a church after the re-conquest. Naturally. They ripped out the centre and injected their own architecture. Unfortunately. But they couldn't bear to tear down the whole thing, so the forest of columns surrounds the Christian bit like a giant ante-chamber. Thankfully. Remember that scene in Alien where a monster erupts from one of the character's stomachs? The horror and mismatch is pretty much the same here. Even the Emperor Charles V, who signed off the building project, is said to have been horrified by what he'd done once he'd seen it.

Cordoba's cathedral is much like Grenada's Alhambra: the star site, with tickets selling out in advance and thick crowds sapping magic from the whole experience. Fortunately, the fact that it's still a functioning church means they can't be as draconian with admissions policies here. Get up early and be there for the 8:30 am free admission, then stay for mass at 9:30 to get the best from the place. You'll be sailing out on a cloud of inspiration as the tourists trudge in for the first official visits of the day. You will still find several hundred people gathered at each door by 8:15, but these initial numbers are swallowed by the vast scale of the building, leaving you to enjoy some quiet moments of contemplation. Head immediately for the mihrab (the prayer niche indicating the direction to Mecca) at the back, slightly to the right, as this is where the crowds pile up to admire the most intricate of the Islamic decoration (uncovered after years of camouflage). Then wander to admire the interplay of Islamic arches with Christian chapels. Mass is a full bells-and-whistles, one-step-away-from-the-Vatican affair: there were 11 celebrants on the high altar and a full choir my morning despite a lack of high holy days. Anyone raised Catholic will slip into the vibe even if they don't know Spanish. Even heathens will enjoy the "show" for which this building is just one great stage set. Sitting inside the inserted Christian section you realise it's actually quite a lovely building on its own; it just suffers from its impossible circumstances.

Now walk across the Roman bridge ... an impressive site in its own right ... to the Calahorra Tower at Living Museum of Al-Andalus. At €4.50 for admission, including an informative audio guide and access to the roof where you'll get one of the best views imaginable of the whole city, this place is a bargain. And that's before you start exploring the displays, which mix artefacts with dioramas and animatronics to tell the story of Cordoba's golden age and the mix of Muslims, Jews and Christians that enjoyed it. There's a scale model of the mosque here that shows what it was like before the insertion of the Christian church, cleverly juxtaposed with a window so you can look over the river to the real thing. Even more magical is the room that presents a model city peopled by figures all made by local potters. It's enchanting.
its far end, where you'll find the

Our other star attraction inside the walls was the equestrian and flamenco show in the royal stables. Yup. Horses and dancers. Why not? The beautiful Lipizzan horses you probably associate with Austria started here, when the Hapsburg kings of Spain based their breeding programme for the perfect knightly steed in Cordoba. The tradition continues. The Spanish have a national passion for dressage. And the people of this region take flamenco seriously. Why not combine them? Most of the acts are the horses performing on their own, in the performance ring within their dignified stables. (Pay extra for a premium seat and you get in 20 minutes early to explore the yard and see the horses in their stalls before the show.) This, frankly, would be magical enough. But when a flamenco dancer comes out and does her stuff, with an exquisitely-trained stallion prancing around her in partnership, it's one of the most bizarre ... and totally jaw-dropping ... things I've ever seen. Worth every penny of the remarkably modest €15 general admission ticket, but make sure you check dates and book in advance; performances are not daily and audience numbers are fairly small.

I suspect the Cordoba synagogue, one of the oldest in Europe and a tiny jewel in the Mudejar architectural tradition, would also have been a favourite had it been open. It is, however, closed for a multi-year renovation. This is the most picturesque part of town to wander, so you won't be disappointed to head in that direction anyway. Just down the little lane from the synagogue is the Zoco de Artesanos, a warren of craft galleries spread across several courtyards with proper artisanal work including jewellery, leather goods and pottery. In the same lane there's a man who makes medieval stringed instruments with exquisite inlaid woodwork. There's a great deal of tat on sale throughout Cordoba, so this little stretch is a real find.

Another highlight is the Palacio de Viana, which I wrote about in this previous entry.

About the only thing that disappointed us in Cordoba ... other than the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds ... Alcazar. Southern Spain practices a cheerful caveat emptor: it's hard to find tourist site's official websites, when you do there's very little information on them about what you're actually going to see, and once inside the signage and staffing is often terrible. Thus it most certainly is with this castle, a brooding hulk on the edge of the historic district and once home to the dreaded Spanish Inquisition. Only one room is furnished (with representative pieces to give a sense of where Columbus presented his plans to Ferdinand and Isabella) and there's nothing special about the interior architecture. There's a narrow scramble up stairs to some ramparts with an average view (the one from the Calhorra Tower is much better) and a sign limiting numbers to 20 at a time. Everyone ignores that, however, making both ascent and descent uncomfortable and the whole experience a frightening fire hazard. The main reason to go inside is a fine set of Roman mosaics in the main hall which tell the story of the powerful, leisured class that ran things here in antiquity. What you're actually paying to see is gardens: a series of formal and informal rooms, shady courtyards and sun-drenched parterres, with plenty of water features and statuary. They pale in comparison to Grenada's Generalife, but they're a pleasant place for a walk.
was the

While most of Cordoba's sites are within easy walking distance of the cathedral, you'll need a car for one of its most intriguing attractions. Medina Azahara is a sprawling ruined city spreading up a hillside about a 15-minute drive out of town. Built by the first Umayyad Caliph of Cordoba as his palace and administrative centre in the late 10th century, it was an opulent, legendary court for just 70 years before civil war triggered its abandonment and looting for building materials. Modern excavations didn't begin until 1911 and 90% of the place is still to be unearthed. Cordoba clearly has its eyes on Unesco World Heritage status, however, and has poured money into an impressive modern museum at the foot of the hill. It's essential, in fact, to spend time here if you want to make sense of the ruins. Without the excellent models and animated tours of the palace in its heyday, it's quite a stretch to see much impressive about the abundance of waist-height walls that remain on the hillside.

This is yet another place let down by Spanish attractions' failure to master digital communications. You probably won't find the official website in standard searches; instead you'll be led to believe the only way to get in is to take the one English-speaking bus tour a day which may already be sold out. Ignore this, especially if you have a car. (You can take public buses out here, too.) The museum, car park and archeological park are all vast enough to accommodate plenty of visitors. Entry to the museum is free for European union members; you need to pick up a ticket there that allows you in to the excavations above.

Do not miss this step, as you can NOT get a ticket at the Medina itself. You need to leave your car next to the museum and take a bus up the hill to the site. Once there you'll find stunning views, a few reconstructed archways to give you a sense of past grandeur and plenty of old foundations to emphasise how big the place once was. Looking down on the ruins of the mosque currently being excavated, you realise it would have given its sister building in Cordoba a run for its money. Approach the site with caution, however. You'll be scrambling over wildly uneven pavements, climbing a lot of steps and site management does not bother to tell you what is or is not open. I got all the way to the bottom to discover that the star site of the place, Abd ar-Rahman's reception hall, was closed. And then, of course, had to climb back up to the bus drop-off point to catch a ride back down to the museum. If you're ambivalent about ruins, a quick nose around the museum will probably satisfy you.

WHERE WE STAYED
The winding, narrow nature of Cordoba's streets makes a car a nuisance, and the medieval city itself is the main attraction. Thus it seemed logical to make this our holiday accommodation splurge so we could be in the heart of the old town. We stayed at the NH Collection Amistad, a 108-room hotel spread across two 17th century mansions facing each other across a square in what was once the Jewish quarter. It's hard to imagine a better location; minutes on foot from the cathedral, Alcazar or the square that's the heart of the modern town and a stone's throw from copious restaurant choices. For €250 a night, and another €22 per night for parking, we were somewhat disappointed.

Positives: We had a great room in the secondary building, overlooking the square, plenty of space, excellent soundproofing; our building had a charming roof terrace with small plunge pool, there's a larger courtyard pool in the main building; excellent concierges gave us valuable advice on restaurants and avoiding crowds; they have a phenomenal breakfast spread and a solid restaurant for other meals; there's a series of charming courtyards to relax with a drink and get away from the crowds outside.

However: my husband thought the bed was uncomfortably hard (I was too exhausted from sightseeing to notice) and the staff's command of English was generally far below where it should have been at a 4-star catering to international tourists (the front desk people didn't really understand when I tried to explain that my wallet had been stolen and didn't really react, much less express comfort or try to help). Most significantly, the place had a taint of corporate hotel about it I didn't like. The ground floor of our building was clearly being used as a muster point for a walking tour company and the covered courtyard dining area ... made much of in their promotional materials ... felt more like a conference centre circa 1990 than a dignified, elegant space. For 20% less, we wouldn't have noticed, but this is in the price range where we start getting very picky. I kept walking by La Llave de la Juderia, the nearby hotel I'd try to book but couldn't get into, and peering into their courtyards with envy. Photos suggest that this offers more of the boutique hotel vibe we prefer, but it also sells out much further in advance. Note for next time...

Cordoba’s festivals are a gardener's delight, but prepare for crowds

Being in Cordoba for the back-to-back celebration of its two biggest festivals is a Dickensian proposition: the best of times, the worst of times.

On the positive side, the city is decked out in its floral best. The Cruces de Mayo (May Crosses) sees religious fraternities compete to decorate crosses with flowers, while Los Patios de Cordoba has private buildings opening their lush interior gardens for the public to snoop. It's like the National Garden Scheme and the Chelsea Flower Show rolled into one. It's a properly local time to get a sense of the place: the overwhelming majority of the accents I heard were Spanish. And the good times keep rolling. First communion for Roman Catholic children is on or around 1 May, filling the streets with adorable little girls dressed as miniature brides and boys in their best jackets and ties. It's likely you might encounter a procession carrying a statue of the Virgin Mary with a brass band following behind. The whole place is a party.

With the merriment, of course, comes crowds. We're talking Disney-World-at-Christmas, London-tube-at-rush-hour, body-to-body crowds. And because these are Spaniards, there will be no orderly waiting. Watch out for the grandmothers. They may look benign, but they are professional queue bargers who will have a sharp elbow in the small of your back the moment you try to block their incursion. Every sunny al-fresco table is taken, every charming restaurant packed. And, of course, with crowds come pickpockets. I am a savvy traveller who hadn't been robbed in 30+ years of exploring Europe. A wily Cordoban lifted my wallet within 20 minutes of our first foray onto the streets.

My bottom line: if you're a keen gardener, it's a wonderful time to come ... you just need to develop strategies to cope with the crowds. If flowers aren't your thing, I suspect there are far better times to enjoy Cordoba's delights.

From a horticultural perspective, the crosses are a less impressive festival. Once you've seen a few, they start to look much the same. Each display uses the same size and shape of cross; many cover theirs in red roses or carnations. White with blue or lavender was a secondary favourite. Creativity comes from the floral displays around the crosses ... mostly pots of pelargoniums with a few branching out to a variety of plants and the occasional water feature. The most impressive made use of nearby architecture to deliver a wall of flower pots.

It quickly became obvious, however, that this is less about the flowers and more a progressive drinking party. Every fraternity gets sponsors, sets up a beer tent, has a particular tapa (snack) for purchase and sometimes has a band. Locals were having a fabulous time. We felt a bit surplus to requirements. I was undeniably in a rotten mood after the theft and an hour spent on the phone cancelling debit and credit cards, on top of another stress-inducing hour earlier in the day creeping a car through gridlocked traffic and crowds of pedestrians to reach our hotel's garage. I'd be willing to give the Crosses another try when better prepared both mentally and physically.

The patios were a different story. I was in gardeners' heaven.

Houses in Cordoba follow a model started by the Romans and continued by the Arabs: rooms are arranged around courtyards that provide private garden space and almost always have a water feature; long ago to capture a precious resource, today for pleasure. Brightly-coloured tiles often line the walls up to waist height. Arrays of flower pots affixed to the walls and paving of black-and-white cobbles set in various designs are recurring features. Cordobans, the general wisdom goes, are passionately proud and seriously competitive when it comes to these patios. Once a year they open them for charity. Admission is free but there are collections for owners' favourite causes. Plus prizes, people's favourites and plenty of local press coverage. From framed prizes and articles in many gardens it was clear that some owners opened year after year and had accumulated plenty of accolades. This year there were five "routes" with more than 60 gardens open to the public. (Maps are freely available from hotels, tourist information centres and all participating gardens.) Navigating can be a bit challenging; Cordoba's twisting, narrow lanes quickly sap your sense of direction. Fortunately enough locals are doing the routes that you can usually just follow other people with maps.

Here, I found the variety lacking in the crosses. Some patios were tiny, hardly more than light wells between several apartments. Others were grand processions of interlinked spaces. One joined a church, the priests' house and offices, with a baroque chapel between gardens. Some were white-walled sun-traps with arrays of potted pelargoniums and cascading bougainvillea, others bosky dells of ferns, hostas and mosses. Many had clear themes that presumably reflected their owners' passions: new age crystals and American Indian dream catchers; bullfighting; flamenco; tools of historic crafts. Several complemented the gurgling of water with the trills of caged songbirds; a few had impressive sound systems. One was even a doll's house courtyard produced in magnificent detail ... grains of rice for the patterned cobbles, tiny bits of rolled paper for the flowers ... in the front room of an artisan's workshop and gallery. Patio owners were usually on hand to talk details, but Spanish was a requirement to get into any horticultural specifics.

Once again, the trick with the patios was to get away from the most obvious tourist hot spots. Patios in the Alcazar Viejo district needed a wait of more than half an hour per property to get a peek. That's right next to major tourist attractions. I didn't bother. instead, I walked a mile to the furthest-flung and heavily residential Santa Marina and San Lorenzo districts, where I explored 18 different gardens during the 11 am - 2 pm morning opening and only queued once. (As with much of Spain, the Patios close for a long lunch break and re-open for an evening session.

If you're not in Cordoba during the festival, you can get a sense of the patio tradition at the Palacio de

Viana. This ancient aristocratic home has grown over the centuries, acquiring neighbouring buildings until it sprawls over the equivalent of several city blocks and encompasses 12 different courtyards. Like the patios in the festival, these display a wide range of styles from intimate domestic spaces to water gardens, orangeries and maze-like spreads of hedged parterres. Each has signs that explain the theme, design and planting of the patio in both Spanish and English. It' obvious that the current owners cherish and continue family history, as several of the courtyards feature either new schemes or significant renovations.

There's a two-tiered price structure; less for just the gardens and more for a full ticket that includes a house tour as well. My time was too short for both, but enticing glimpses into some rooms assured me that without all those other patios to see, I would have happily explored the interiors, too.

If you do plan to head to Cordoba for these festivals, always in late April and early May, book your hotel early. By January there was already very limited availability for any lodging in the historic district.