Granada

When I mentioned my fascination with Granada in the last post, I had just arrived in the city and was so incredibly excited to be here.  That feeling has never left.  I've been here two nights, and am going on my third and my last.  Every other place I have been, when the time came to pack up and move along, I was ready.  This entire trip has felt like an overview- I´ve scouted out places in the world that I would love to one day come back to and devote their due time.  I´ve been okay with this- until now.  I am not ready to leave Granada.  I am also not sure when I ever would be.  I miss home, I do.  It takes a lot to say that, seeing as I´m on this amazing tour of Europe, living out something that I have dreamed about since I was a child.  But I do- I miss Wes, I miss my parents and grandparents and friends.  I miss my bed, and I miss Bodhi and Cedar (the other handsome men in my life).  And when you get used to sleeping (yes, just sleeping.  Still, sorry mom and dad) next to someone for so many years, it´s kind of hard to fall asleep when you´re not with them.  I am sleep deprived (the alcohol may also be to blame for that), and I am looking forward to coming home.  But, that doesn´t mean I want this trip to end.  And I definitely don´t want to leave Granada.  What a strange, unexplainable conundrum. 

Granada is a colorful, vivid, pulsing mix of European and Northern African cultures.  I am staying in the old Arabic district and when I leave the hostel and round the corner, I run into a street barley wider than my arm length with Moroccan lamps, leather purses, handmade jewelry, scarves, and smells and colors that immediately affront all one´s senses in the best way possible.  Itś beautiful and the streets smell like incense.  There are hookah bars and free tapas everywhere.  Neon green absinthe  flows and beer is sold in gypsy caves.  If any place is capable of capturing one´s imagination, I can´t think of somewhere that would be more vivid than here.  Being on the street carries an energy current deeper than anything I´ve ever felt.  It´s the colors mixing with the smells and the tastes (and possibly the absinthe), and it pulses here. Am I getting too abstract?  If so, I´d say that´s just another symptom, another gift from Granada.  

Yesterday I slept in (this whole "I can sleep when I´m dead" mentality might be actually killing me), and when I woke up I hiked as far up the winding streets as I could, until I reached this vantage point. 

I wandered, and I will say again that the best way to get the feel of a city is to get lost in it.  And that´s precisely what I did.  I took staircases that opened into plazas with more staircases, followed my whims down alleyways and snaking streets.  Every corner presented a new view of the city, and I kept following the corners until I found my way back to the hostel (a handful of hours later).

With uncharacteristically impeccable timing, I got back as a free walking tour group was gathering.  One of the reasons hostels are such cool places to explore from are the abundance of free or cheap excursions.  I´ve taken a hostel-guided walking tour in pretty much every city, and next to getting lost on my own, they´re the best way to discover the history and the lay of the land with a local (or the best way to find the cheapest beer and food).  Our guide took us on a tour of the street art of the city, the Gypsy caves (where we drank extremely cheap, but deliciously cold beer), the free-living hippy caves, and the best panoramic view points of the city.  

(Gypsy cave where we drank beer and talked about Flamenco)

We hiked, and we hiked, and we kept hiking up and up.  But again, the harder it is the better it (sometimes) is.  The hiking was worth it.

After the tour, I went out with my new tour group friends and ate free tapas, tried the absinthe, and slept not quite like a baby, but well enough. 

The Alhambra stands in mythological proportions in my mind.  Which is funny, considering I knew next to nothing about it before I came.  Did I imagine giants and fairies and kings?  To be quite honest, I´m not sure what first captivated me about the Alhambra, but I wasn´t about to come to Granada and miss it.  I bought my ticket for 9 am entry (groan, who talked me into absinthe?) and spent this morning wandering one of the most extraordinary old places I´ve been.  No, there aren´t any fairies, or at least I didn´t see any, but the Moorish architecture and engineering is brilliant, all the more impressive for it´s antiquity.   The intricate carved details and extravagant interiors are mind blowing- one kind of may wish the Christians stayed the F*&% out and let the Moors continue to grow and build the Alhambra.  But alas, the Christians came and conquered, and sent the Moors back to Africa (even though most of them were born here, in Granada, and had never stepped foot in Africa).  The Alhambra was a palace and a fortress and many, many other things throughout history.  While touring the palace was amazing, it is still kind of strange to stroll through a home without any furniture.  Weird, that of all things I could be thinking, I kind of dwelled on the fact that there were no couches or chairs or beds or tables.  I must have been quite sleepy...

The photos don´t do the place justice, but if I´ve been able to convey even a tiny bit of my love for this city and possibly inspire the same fascination and imagination as captured me, then I´ve done well.  You may be wondering (if you´ve even made it this far!  Sorry for the length) if I´m coming home, or if y´all will have to fly to Spain to retrieve me.  My love for Wes and my family and friends brings me homeward.  I´m fighting Granada´s spell and am off to Seville tomorrow.  Love and miss you all.