Alhambra Now, Sleep Later: The Granada Chronicles Part I

Considering the visual dent I made on Facebook with my 200+ pictures of Granada, it is no secret that this past weekend, I traveled to Granada. For the geographically challenged (don't be ashamed, I once thought Ireland was somewhere near Italy myself), Granada is located in southern Spain in the autonomous community of Andalucía. Andalucía is the biggest autonomous community in Spain and was once ruled by Muslims. Muslim influence is very visible throughout the city, particularly in the architecture of the older buildings, and, of course, the Alhambra itself.

It would be unfair to say that the trip began once my feet touched the Granada soil--or cement. The trip commenced approximately at 12:50am the night before, when I got on the metro headed towards the airport. Was my flight at 3am or another crazy hour that, crazy as it was, could merit my arrival at Barajas at 1:30am? Absolutely not. My flight was at 6:30am, but a taxi ride to the airport is about 35E, so my logic should be rather evident here. Upon our arrival at the airport, my friends and I discovered that we were not, in fact, the only ones who had had the idea of spending the night at the airport for the sake of saving money. Terminal 1 was lined with people curled up under fleece blankets, jackets, sweaters, and each other. Finding a small piece of wall conveniently by the Ryan Air check-in desk, we settled down and tried to get some rest, although that soon proved to be impossible considering the floor was freezing. By the time we were herded onto the plane at 6:15am, we were gasping for some shuteye.

Two and a half hours later, I got off the bus in el centro*. I looked around, the city strange to me. Following the directions to the hostel that I had written down, I walked through small, café-laden, cobblestone streets. It was still relatively early and the city was just waking up. Shopkeepers were slowly opening doors and waiters were lazily setting up terrace seating under the kindling sun. On my left was a massive, Gothic cathedral: the Granada Cathedral, home to the tombs of the Catholic Monarchs. Palm trees sparsely surrounded the cathedral, creating an unusual view.

Passing banks and little cafeterías,** I found my street, a charming passage with old, European buildings and a cozy feel.

After a rejuvenating nap--not factoring in the disturbingly close cooing of pigeons that I expected to see fly through the open window--I set out to explore Granada. During the hours I had been napping, life had sprung up around the cathedral. The perimeter was surrounded by a bustling market selling everything from weight loss herbs to earrings. One side of the cathedral was lined with baskets of teas, herbs, spices, and sugared donuts. I lingered to smell the sweet aroma of rooibos and to marvel at the vibrant color of the azafrán molido.*** Just around the corner, I discovered paradise: endless tables piled high with every variety of candy imaginable and mounds of pastries and freshly baked breads. Chocolate-covered palmeras**** and citrus-glazed shortcake smiled at me as I wrestled the crowd's arms out of my way and fought for a narrow path to go forward. The narrow streets opened up to a square filled with artisan booths selling scarves, bags, and hand-crafted jewelry. Burning incense and drums filled the air. Vendors were roasting chestnuts and grilling corn; the savory smoke danced into the blue skies.

As I approached the entrance to the cathedral, a woman stuffed a rosemary stem into my hand. Knowing better than to accept random objects from random people on the street, I murmured muchas gracias***** and tried to give the rosemary back to her, but the lady insisted that it was free, so I shrugged and tried to keep walking. Tried. She stopped me, grabbed my hand, and started reading my palm. Eh, what the hell, it's free, I thought. I waited patiently for her to finish because I don't need lines on my hands to tell me that I'm intelligent or that I will have one great love in life. Bitch, please. Ahora paga.******I snapped out of my stupor. Crafty, conniving, crooked-toothed gypsy. Me dijo que es gratis. Sí, solo el romero. No. Paga, todos pagan. No. Venga, una moneda. Dije que no.******* I won, but as I walked away unscathed, I heard the woman mutter, que rompas tu cabeza. No entiendes nada de la belleza.********Yep, I'll get right on that.

The cathedral itself was interesting, mainly because of the tombs of the Catholic Monarchs and the small exhibition of their relics, such as scepters and robes. I have been to so many cathedrals in my life that only dead royalty could lure me into another one. There was also a collection of Renaissance art, but let's be real here, why would I want to see more Jesus paintings? I think I have seen enough Madonnas, crucifixions, St. Whatevers (and their lambs), and tryptichs of whatever assumption. But the tombs were cool.

*the center

**cafés

***ground saffron

****elephant ear pastries

*****thank you very much

******now pay

*******You told me it was free. Yes, only the rosemary. No. Pay, everyone pays. No. Come on, a coin. I said no.

********I hope you break your head. You know nothing of beauty.