In 1999, more than 60 households competed. We tried to see every one, and concluded that while it might be possible, such haste would be rude. The patios are endless labors of love, and they deserve far more than a glance. Truly ambitious gardeners plant fragile impatiens, which require almost constant watering in Cordoba's dry climate. Massive terra-cotta pots on the tile or gravel floors hold giant ferns, philodendrons the size of small trees, and even potted citrus.
Bougainvillea climbs the walls or twists over the entry gates of some houses.
Most patios have a flowing fountain or at least a deep well, some of them hand-dug by the Arabic citizens of Cordoba a thousand years ago or more. The shade, the flowers, the burble of water - we were seduced, ready to move in. When we told one patio owner as much, he smiled and said that once he enters his front gate, he forgets that there is even a street outside. Only our fervor to visit more of these intimate green pockets lured us back to the streets to try our luck with the official festival map, which purported to identify the location of every participating household. The trail became a little like a scavenger hunt, leading us farther and farther from the tourist areas through busy neighborhood plazas, past the faded facades of 15th-century churches, past taverns with cold beer and tapas, and within sniffing distance of bakeries making hot bread.