Granada

I arrive in Granada, this picturesque town nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada's, in the mid afternoon. The train ride was nothing adventurous. I really like train travel and the mountains in the distant were wonderful to see.

This is not a city, it's more of a large town. Population around 250,000. I somehow manage to miss my bus stop to my little hostel and take a cab their instead. I have to ration out my cab rides as 5 euros here and 5 euros there really start to add up. I'm thankful that I did take a cab here as there would have been no way that I could have found this place on my own. It's on the south side of the Albaicin(the ancient Arab district) and the streets are tiny mazes. The cab can't drop me off at the door so he directs me up this very pebbly side street and assures me that it's up the hill. I don't really believe him given the location, but my options were slim. So I set off. I manage to find the hostel. Only because they have signs pointing to it. I settle in and decide to take a walk around the Albaicin as I read that it's a maze of Arab streets. The receptionist tells me to head to the Placa de St Nicholas which is supposed to have the most amazing view of the Alhambra. (The Alhambra is the ancient Moor palace where King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella lived in the 15th century....and the reason people come to Granada.)

I was directed to head up the hill because that would take me to the plaza(supposedly) so I set off. Immediately I feel uneasy. I'm not gonna lie, the Albaicin is a bit dodgy. All the white washed houses and the tiny maze like streets give me a not so good feeling. I had seen alot of hobos at the train station and around the Albaicin(not that all hobos are bad...) Mostly Arab shops line the street and sell stuff from Morocco and India. Very cool souvenirs, but the men sitting outside yell out lines towards me as I walk. I have my big sunglasses on and manage to avoid the I'm starting to get a bit antsy, and I hardly ever get antsy, but the farther I walk up the hill the less crowded it becomes. Suddenly I find myself very alone on a street and I have no clue where the hell I'm going. Not good.

As I continue walking up I run into a Spanish family and a bit of chatting on where this plaza is leads me to tag along with this family. They are from the north of Spain, but now live in London and they are visiting Granada to show the daughters British boyfriend the Alhambra. I ask if I can tag along with them and the mother insists chiding that these streets are not very safe for young pretty girls. The dad had grown up in Granada so he knew where going. I was thankful that I had company on the lonely streets. We talk and get to know each other and find out that the girls boyfriend is going to law school with one of my friends in London. Small world. So we climb the rather large hill, full of cobblestone, and arrive at the Plaza of St Nicholas. As promised the view was well worth it. The palace is in the background and the Sierra Nevada's are behind the palace. Breathtaking. The Plaza itself is lined with gypsy and hobo looking men smoking what sheesha and what was most definitely NOT cigarettes. The family is climbing down on the other side of the hill and let me know that I am not to stay at the plaza by myself. I was most definately not planning on it. We make our way down the plaza and I quickly figure out that going down the hill is much more difficult than going up the hill. The roads are all cobblestones, and not cobblestone that's been worn down to the cement in between the stones. Nope, these are tiny, very smooth rocks sticking out of cement. Having had millions of people walk over them over the thousands of century the rocks are all very smooth and slick. Naturally, I was wearing my flip flops and kept loosing my footing. I almost had a bad tumble a few times. I definitely do not need to break my other foot, especially not in Spain. Yes, health care is free, but getting back home would be horrendous. Thankfully, we all managed to make it down safely.

The family was going to dinner with some other friends and they invited me to go with them. I hesitated as it would be dark soon and did not want to be out after dark. I ended up going with them to dinner at this nice Spanish restaurant and meeting the entire family. It was very nice to spend the evening with them. It was still light outside after dinner so I bid my farewell and headed off to the hostel. I wander over in what I think is the right direction, but find myself in a plaza that is full of families celebrating the Feast of Corpus. The plaza has kiddie rides and balloon animals and clows(I hate clowns.) I manage to push my way through and keep walking. An older looking well dressed man approaches me and in Spanish asks where this street is. I answer that I'm not from around here. He inquires as to where I'm from and I tell him that I'm from Barcelona(my spanish accent is so so Spaniard.) He then proceeds to tell me how pretty I am(uh thank you) and ASKS me to spend the weekend with him. I was caught so off guard that I mumbled some sort of thanks, but not thanks and quickly sped off. I was speechless! Outraged too, but have to quickly get over my shock as it is starting to approach dusk. I keep walking down the street and come across this rock band behind the cathedral rocking out popular spanish songs. Old couples are dancing in the square to the music and families are swaying their children back and forth. All really fun to watch, but I decide to keep walking. The rock band starts a new song and I recognize it as the Camisa Negra! This hugely popular song by the Juanes(Columbian rock group), of which me and one of my favorite people had gone to see back in April in Austin. So I stay and kinda dance along with the music.

I finally manage to find the main street and find my hostel right before the sun sets. Crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep until the morning.