Tuesday, June 20, 2006
I am now in Granada, Granada of the Moors, of the Catholic Kings, of the Alhambra. Thanks to my mistake with the train from Santiago, I have only one day to breathe in this place. Between the nine hour train ride from Santiago to Madrid, about four hours sleep at Max’s (who is the greatest, letting me show up on last moment’s notice just to sleep a few hours), and another seven hour train ride to Granada, I’m afraid my energy is not its highest. The train ride was easy this morning. I actually enjoy the train rides. They are the perfect time to catch up on my writing and not feel I am missing out on some new place outside my door. In fact I can see everything that is going on outside my door – well, windows. The most amazing thing on this trip was the olive trees – miles and miles, actually hundreds and hundreds of miles of olive trees. Now obviously, having lived in Italy, I’ve seen olive trees before, but never have I seen every square inch of land for hundreds of miles, up the sides of hills, down into valleys, as far as the eye could see in every direction, perfectly- lined groves of olive trees. No houses, no towns, just an occasional road, the train tracks, and rows upon rows of olive trees. Like a never ending beige colored green polka dotted quilt….
The car was empty except me and one of the happiest couples I’ve ever seen. They must have been about sixty years old, comfortably dressed, relatively fit, and talked with each other the entire seven hour trip – laughing, joking, sharing. They got into one little tiff about something and there was silence for a moment then a simple apology and they were off talking again. They enjoyed each other so much I began to think they must be having an affair and were slipping off for a little rendezvous together. When the train pulled into the station and we were waiting to get off, I tried to tell them how much I enjoyed just being in their presence. It took a little effort with the language barrier, but finally the wife finally understood what I was saying. She laid her hand on my arm, and told me they had been married for 34 years! Thirty four years and still they could still carry on a seven hour conversation – amazing.
Knowing I would only have one day in Granada, I decided this time rather than wasting my time researching hotels on the internet, I would just stop at one of the dozen hotels that are always outside every tourist city train station in Spain. Unfortunately I decided to try this approach in the one city in Spain that has NO hotels outside the train station. There was one down the street and around the corner – 44 euro. I was sure I could do better than that. If I had known it would take me an hour and a half of lugging my bags through the feverish pitch energy of the University area, on a 90 degree day, following hostal signs that never seemed to lead to a hostel, trying hotels that were rich, rude, or full, all to save 14 euro, I would have paid the extra euro. At last I actually found a hostel, with rooms, for 30 euro. My clothes were so drenched with sweat, I had to wash every stitch. A nice bath and fresh clothes and I was out the door – for another walk in the feverish pitch energy, on an 85 degree evening, following directions that never seemed to lead to the post office, carrying the surprisingly heavy bag of things I had decided I didn’t need and souvenirs and gifts I had picked up along the way. After an hour waiting in the post office, my patience with Granada was wearing thin.
If you ever go to Granada, trust me on this, pick a hotel in an area you think you’ll like – near the Alhambra, in the small winding hill streets of Albaicin, in the shopping district of town, wherever and Take a Taxi! You will be in a much better position to enjoy what the city has to offer, and it does indeed have a lot to offer. You see everywhere elements of the Islamic/Muslim influence and the European/Catholic influence, living side by side. In some ways, they haven’t done a very good job of preserving their heritage. The Cathedral is built up around on all sides with ugly fences barring the half dozen entryways so that it is absolutely impossible to get a decent shot from any vantage point. Much of the lower Albaicin area has been let go to waste, shops closed, buildings abandoned. Yet it still holds the charm of times gone by, along with the scattered flower pots of today that add so much to these old Spanish dwellings. Despite what seems to me to be a lack of foresight for their tourists, the city is thriving and vibrant. Between the people of all ages running around with locks, more piercings per capita than a Marilyn Manson concert, street singers and beggars with their dogs, students all around, music from every culture playing in bars and hotels and stores, and about sixty percent of the female population in long wide skirts that almost drag the ground the city has a wonderful bohemian feel.
My favorite spot thus far is the alcaiceía. A little street done up with the flair of the Grand Bazaar in Instanbul with men on stools, awnings overhead, miles of bright, ornamented fabrics, and every Arabic handicraft a person could desire. I walked until the sun was about to set and then found myself a little tetería at the end of the bazaar row where I could write and eat and people watch as the shops closed down and the kids gathered in the street. My frustrations of the day drifted with the setting sun as the ease of night approached. I couldn’t help but think of my best friend Cheri who has long held a fascination for the Arab culture. She would love this place. It is surprising how immersed I feel in the Arab culture in this little area of Spain. Arabic hangs in the air spoken by people of obvious Arabic descent. The smell of curry lingers all around. At each table sits a little silver Arabic style teapot with the little crystal and gold rimmed glasses I have seen only in movies. Many signs are in Arabic and Arabic music pours from the stalls that line this narrow winding street. As you look down the street you see booth after booth, pressed tightlt together, with shelves out front boasting slippers and outfits straight from the set of I Dream of Jeanie. Piles of ornate pillow coverings spill over from one booth into the next and beautiful skirts and blouses are hung from the doorways. As you actually walk down the street, you realize that several of the little “booths” are far larger than meets the eye. As you peak inside, past all the colors and fabrics, the hookah pipes and the souvenirs, you see a narrow hallway that then opens up into a showroom beyond, brimming with silver and gold, ornate fabrics, beautifully crafted wood pieces polished to a mirror-like shine. If I had a thousand dollars, another suitcase and a porter to carry it, I could spend a week here. But I don’t and so I enjoyed the feeling in the air, window shopped, without the window, and kept my money
It is one of the lovely advantages of not having a home. Before I would see the “perfect thing” to go in some particular nook or crannie, the shelf in the hall or the mantel over the fireplace.. I would look at the price and battle with myself about spending the money, carrying whatever it was, whether it would actually match, etc. etc. Now there is no nook, no crannie, no shelf, no mantelpiece to fill. Now I just walk and admire the craftsmanship, the colors, the energy of the particular place. Before shopping was a quest. Now it is a simpl experience – a particularly enjoyable experience at an Arabic bazaar.
Oh my god – I just had my first bite of food. I had to come the Spanish land of the Arabs to find good food – and oh my god is it good. Couscous, sweet onions, chickpeas, and raisins ladled over a big bowl of couscous. The tea is to die for. It is called Sueño de la Alhambra - Dream of Alahambra. It is a mixture – black tea, bergamot, cinnamon, rose, and fruit teas – and oh so yummy.
One of the unique qualities of Granada that I just love is the pavements. Yes the pavement. The older streets were cobblestoned, much like European streets though the rocks and the stones seemed to be a little different. But throughout the city, particularly in parks or plazas or the entrance ways to cathedrals are these patterned designed sections of pavement. Small, long thin black rocks are used against rounder white rocks are contrasted against each other to create an amazing array of designs. Such a simple thing and yet it gave the city an ornate feeling, such as generally pervades churches and other monumental buildings. We spend so much time looking at the ground, especially in these many cities upon a hill, it made me wonder why man stopped decorating the ground sine the fall of the Roman Empire. The best we do is lay marble in office buildings.
My dinner was wonderful, the service kind (for a change). I love sitting at outdoor café’s typing to my heart’s content – especially with something to eat besides a hunk of bread and meat. The day could not have ended better, and then it did. On the way back to the hostel I spotted a little internet café called “Central Perk.” Wasn’t that the name of the coffeeshop on Friends? I had to go in and check it out. It was a internet café but with the feel of a full service bar and a bartender who not only spoke English but was very friendly. I had stopped a couple other places and had the same issue as previously with hooking up my computer. He was kind enough to tap me into his own personal wireless service and share tips on the Alhambra.
Thanks to him, I made the tour the next day. Another tip for the future – you have to buy your Alhambra tickets in advance during the summer. They sell 5,000 tickets a day (at $10 a pop). The travel services get 4,000 and the remaining 1,000 are generally sold out at the door by 8:30 am. I think they are making more money than the Sultan did!
The Alhambra was amazing. So amazing I am too tired to describe it and the pictures simply can’t do justice to the intricacy of the craftsmanship and luxuriant embellishments throughout the palace. You’ll just have to see it yourself.
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