Granada Part 1

I got to the bus station with my bag, and a nation of options stared me in the face. At the train station, names like "Madrid", "Barcelona", "Valencia", and "Sevilla" flashed across the departure list, with trains leaving several times an hour. At the bus station, Sevilla, Cordoba, Cadiz, Granada, and other smaller towns were options. I could even get a bus to Romania, but I quickly ruled out that option. I remembered reading a description of a route encompassing Ronda, Granada, Cordoba, and Sevilla in a book which we had on our coffee table at home called "National Geographic's 500 Trips of a Lifetime". That intrigued me and I considered these cities especially, a consideration which was not hurt by the fact that they were far closer than Madrid or Barcelona; all of them were within Andalusia. Check a map if you like. I had previously asked the guy at the desk in the hotel and the girl next door who sold flamenco dresses. They both listed Granada as the top city they would go to, and each of them liked either Sevilla or Cordoba and were ambiguous regarding the other one. Also influencing the decision was the fact that I read that there would be a big bullfight in Sevilla the following day, and this was considered, along with Ronda's, to be the greatest bullfighting ring in Spain. However, I realized I couldn't do everything, and I decided to start off with Granada.


I got my ticket, hopped on the bus, ate a pear and part of my sausage, started reading my book, looked at some of my pictures, and fell into a fairly uncomfortable sleep on the way to Granada. The scenery was mountainous, much like the way to Ronda. Three hours and about 9 Euros later, I arrived in Granada. I heard some girls next to me speaking English and saying they lived in Granada, so I ran out and asked them what to look for in the town. While I was still in the train station, I sadly noticed that my camera wasn't in my pocket, I rushed back to the bus, less than 90 seconds after leaving it, and it was gone. The next few hours were an ordeal, talking with the station information desk, tracking down the bus number, sitting outside what I thought was the bus, etc... the long story is, I couldn't get it back. Theft is widespread in Spain. I was unspeakably disappointed, as I love that camera (I still hold a fool's hope of finding it again), and it cast a cloud over the next while. I realized how much easier things would be with Abe, who spoke Spanish.

Eventually, I realized I had to go, though. Thus began the process of exploring the new city. I can safely describe the process of seeing a new city in Spain in terms of several stages.


1. Arrival. Arrive in the city. Mentally tell yourself, "I am in x. Cool." And, in the future, carefully check your person for everything valuable you should have.

2. Initial let down. You get to the city and were expecting beautiful architecture and history. Instead, you are surrounded by Spanish convenience stores and dilapidated sticks. You realize that you are outside the city centre, and you ask where the city centre is in your best Spanish, which, if you are me, is pretty bad indeed. Bonus points if you ask an interesting person.

3. The journey to the centre. Whether by bus or by foot, you get yourself to the historic downtown, and you begin to be relieved that it doesn't all look like a let-down.

4. The search for housing. You realize that you need a place to stay that night. You feel slightly anxious, fearing the worst. You wander narrow cobblestone streets, dragging your big bag, looking for anything that looks like a hostel. You want something decently nice, but not too expensive. You drag your bags up an entire set of stairs to reach the front desk, only to find out that the rooms are 90 Euros. Too pricey. You keep walking, and your standards start to slide. Maybe you already had a reservation, but you are trying hard to find it on unlabelled streets. You finally find one, and pay slightly more than you told yourself you wanted to.

5. Settling in. You put your bag in your room, feel relieved, and start thinking you could enjoy this new town. You find a map, explore, and get some food in your belly.

6. The visit. Check out everything you want to see.

7. The nudge. You start feeling like you've enjoyed this city, but it is time to see the next one. You hop on a bus, and start the cycle again.

That's the basic pattern. I felt really selfish just living for Stevo, sleeping where I wanted, eating what I wanted after being responsible for a bunch of people. It was like being a bachelor on steroids.

Back to Granada...
After doing everything I could (and I mean everything, spending several hours) to find my camera, I made a booking at the bus station for a hostel, as they had a little booth there set up to get people hostels. 17 Euros. Not bad. I realize the booth may have taken a cut, as you can get places online for about 11, but I was in no position to be picky. The guy at info told me he could get me a cheaper hostel, and he gave me the address for one for 15. Stepping outside in Granada, it looked unimpressive mainly, with a road under construction, some fairly seedy restaurants across, and a McDonald's just up the street. However, off in the distance were the Sierra Nevadas, huge mountains which keep a snowcap year round, even in that hot climate. It was cool seeing snowcapped mountains there. I was told I had to take a city bus to the city centre, so I lugged my huge bag on the bus, paid my fare, and strained my ears and my eyes for "Real Porto" my stop, asking people around me fairly regularly if they knew where it was. You feel kind of vulnerable in a new city by yourself, particularly when your bank card is not working.


I got off at Real Porto, and the city centre was quite different. Busier, narrow cobblestone streets, fountains, old churches, etc. But I would check that out later... I had wasted my afternoon looking for my camera, and I needed to find a place to stay before I thought of anything else. I tried to follow a questionable map to the cheaper hostel, but the old man at the place I came to gave me a quizzical look when I tried to tell him I should get a room for 15 Euros. This one was much more expensive. I went back into the streets and tried to look for the place. I was tired, I was hungry, I was ticked off at losing my camera, and I was getting sick of not having a place to stay. I was even feeling a little bit lost. Granada is a really student-y town with a lot of hippy stores with statues of Buddha. I decided to try and find the first hostel, and, after not too long, I walked past a convent and arrived at it. It was like an oasis. I walked in, and was greeted by a landing with Catholic iconography and a picture of Jesus that said "Jesus is a friend who never fails" written in Spanish. It felt welcoming. Off to the side was a room where a Spanish grandma watched TV. A girl I assumed was her grand-daughter confirmed my reservation, took my passport, and gave me some keys, taking me to another, close-by building, walking me up the stairs and showing me my room. It was much better than I expected, spacious, with a sink, a bed, a desk and a chair, and two windows opening out to the street. She didn't even want me to pay her until the morning. It felt like a Godsend. I still think of the YMCA song when I think of that place, for some reason. What a relief it was. I left my bags in the room, freshened up, and prepared to go out and explore the city.

Let me give a brief intro to Granada. Granada was the last city occupied by the Moors, and it surrendered to Ferdinand and Isabel, a famous Spanish King and Queen, in 1492. That's not too long ago. Partially as a result of that, the city feels quite Arabic. Parts of it really felt like Morocco. The most well-known place in Granada is the Alhambra, an old Moorish palace with fantastic architecture. I believe it was there, in 1492, that Isabel and Ferdinand met with Christopher Columbus to commission him to make his voyage of discovery. The Alhambra is on a big hill, and there is a lot of up and down in the city, with cobblestone streets. Also well known, across from the Alhambra, is the Albayzin, an old medieval Arab neighbourhood, with incredibly narrow and winding streets. Granada is a big student city, with a famous university and loads of students, and some male students there have a dorky habit of growing one really long thin braid. They will regret having pictures of that when they are older. Granada is also famous for its tapas culture, where free tapas are given with every drink that one purchases.