Granada – Part I (The Albayzin)
On the Friday after the Festival de San Juan, I decided to make the trip up to Granada and spend the day wandering around the more historic parts of the city, as well as make my way to the grand Alhambra. I left the apartment early, in order to have enough time to walk to the bus station, and after a leisurely 90 minute drive, was unceremoniously dumped off in Granada. I’ve learned that it takes a little while to get used to local transit, so I decided to take a taxi to the Plaza Nueva, an area in the heart of Granada, located at the base of the Albayzin and where it is very easy to catch a bus to the Alhambra. After grabbing a quick café con leche at one of the many cafes that dotted the Plaza, I consulted my guidebook and decided to spend the morning walking around the Albayzin.
The Albayzin, for lack of a better description, is a sprawling neighborhood within Granada, with most of it’s identify the result of the fact that the Moorish history is still vividly evident there. It’s full of steep winding streets that seem to go up and up and up, until you are sure you are walking into the sky itself. Filled with a variety of interesting buildings to stop and see, it’s another place where Spain’s Muslim and Christian histories live side by side, with a tranquility that makes one forget the violent past. As you wander around the streets of the Albayzin, you can see the Alhambra standing off in the distance, daring you to scale the mountainside for a better view. Teahouses and souvenir shops line the narrow streets, harkening back to the bazaars of yesteryear, and as you ascend higher into the heavens, caves hollowed out into homes can be glimpsed through the lush palms and cacti lining the rock walls that jut out from the street. The caves were originally settled by Spain’s Roma population (the Gypsies) and many are still used today. Indeed, there are lots of places within the Albayzin to go and watch Flamenco dancing, which is deeply rooted in the Roma culture.
Because I cannot resist a challenge, I started at the bottom of the Albayzin and resolutely began climbing. And climbing. All of the streets go one way – up. In the beginning, there were random places to stop dotted along the way, so I stopped in one historic building that appeared to be the original town hall. There were maps displayed all along the courtyard, many of them depicting Granada in its various historic incarnations. Whatever the building was, it is still currently of some importance, as there were staff setting up for an event later in the day. I didn’t stick around all that long, though, as there was a large tour group that included several teenagers – best to get out while I was ahead.
So I kept walking. It was still early in the day (before noon), so I knew I had a little time before the heat would be too much. I didn’t have to be at the Alhambra until 3:00, so I thought I would walk for another hour or so and then head back to grab lunch. Plus, I didn’t want to run into the tour group again, so I thought it was best to put some distance between them and myself. As I walked, I noticed a funny little statue that a lot of people were photographing, so I did too. To be honest, I’m not sure if this guy is a fisherman (unlikely, given that the city of Granada itself is not on the water), a toreador (bull-fighter), or flamenco dancer. The latter two are the most likely, given the location of the statue. But clearly, he was important, or 12 old ladies would not have been taking his picture. So here he is!
Alas, he was also my downfall, as I turned the corner at whatever street this statue guarded and continued my trek up into the sky. By now, I had completely abandoned the map (or, if I’m being honest, gave up trying to pretend I could read it) and was just going up. As I walked further, there were signs for many interesting places to stop, including the Museum of the Roma Women and a Flamenco Studio. Unfortunately, neither was open, so I just kept walking. There were stunning views out along the mountain side and I assumed (incorrectly, it turns out) that whatever went up must eventually go down. So up I went. And I saw some interesting things, like this house completely decorated with Spanish pottery.
I have no explanation of why this house exists, who thought it was a good idea, or whether it has any special meaning. I just know it was absolutely hysterical and I especially liked the sign asking for money for upkeep. I’m imagining that some enterprising Spanish couple realized that people were walking by their house in great numbers and decided to do something different to capitalize on it. Who knows, maybe it was inherited pottery that they didn’t even like?
It was after the pottery house that I began chatting with another traveler, a solo female probably a few years younger than myself. By the time we reached the pottery house, we had both realized we were traveling in the same direction, so we said hello and commented that the owners must be crazy (sounds way more fun in Spanish, when you’re calling someone loco). After another 20 minutes of walking and not seeing a soul, we started chatting some more about where the heck we were! It turns out that we kept going up but somewhere along the way, had wandered off the Albayzin path and were now just randomly walking into oblivion. Now, the owners of the pottery house weren’t the only “loco” ones around.
It turns out that my companion (whose name I never did get, which is a shame) worked in the hotel industry and was originally from Torremolinos (a town on Costa del Sol, in the Malaga province – maybe 90 minutes by car from where I live). She was working at a hotel in Granada and had the day off, so she decided to take in the sights. She has also previously worked in Madrid and in Costa Rica and was scheduled to leave for a yet unknown destination in a few weeks time. We had plenty of time to chat when we realized that we were not going in the right direction and decided to sit and wait at a random – and deserted – bus stop. And I’m proud to say that the entire conversation was in Spanish!
As we sat in our random bus stop, we realized that there was a group of young people nearby; it turns out that they were a band breaking down from a party the night before (that had to be an interesting party – we were not in a place where there would be any complaining neighbors!). As luck would have it, we were at a bus stop that no one uses, so the drummer advised us to head down the street a bit to a place where a bus would actually stop (this, it seems, is a Spanish phenomenon – buses that adhere to their own routes and schedules, no matter what the printed materials would like you to think). Thirty minutes and a lot of nervous glances back and forth, we were finally on a bus! This was great, until we realized that we had absolutely no idea where the bus was going.
I must say, it was a pretty interesting experience as far as bus riding goes.
But 20 minutes later, the driver dropped us off at the aforementioned Plaza Nueva, we both breathed a huge sigh of release, and said our goodbyes. I decided that now was definitely the time for lunch – and a drink (tinto de verano, anyone?). As I looked around for a place to grab lunch, I found a square filled with cafes advertising their Menu del Dia. In Spain (and a lot of other European countries), the mid-day meal is the big one, so restaurants offer an appetizer, a main dish, a desert, a drink, and some bread for a fixed price. Usually, there’s gazpacho or melon con jamon (my two favorites) for the appetizer, a variety of meats, fishes, and tortillas espanolas for the main course (best described as a thick egg and potato omelet – in the good restaurants, they will actually season it with stuff), and coffee, ice cream, or fruit for dessert (the amount of ice cream consumed in Europe is mind boggling). One dish that I’ve been very excited to eat since getting to Spain is paella (seasoned rice with fish, shellfish, meats, chicken, and anything else they decide to put in it), but it’s usually only served for 2 or more people. Luckily for me, I found a restaurant in Granada that was happy to serve it to just me (I have yet to convince any of the Spanish wait staff that I can in fact consume enough paella for two people, so they usually won’t serve it to me) and I enjoyed a lovely lunch of gazpacho, paella, ice cream, and tinto de verano. And my waiter has lived in Denver for 10 years. Go figure!
And as I ate lunch, I was hoping that the afternoon would not quite so eventful.
The Albayzin, for lack of a better description, is a sprawling neighborhood within Granada, with most of it’s identify the result of the fact that the Moorish history is still vividly evident there. It’s full of steep winding streets that seem to go up and up and up, until you are sure you are walking into the sky itself. Filled with a variety of interesting buildings to stop and see, it’s another place where Spain’s Muslim and Christian histories live side by side, with a tranquility that makes one forget the violent past. As you wander around the streets of the Albayzin, you can see the Alhambra standing off in the distance, daring you to scale the mountainside for a better view. Teahouses and souvenir shops line the narrow streets, harkening back to the bazaars of yesteryear, and as you ascend higher into the heavens, caves hollowed out into homes can be glimpsed through the lush palms and cacti lining the rock walls that jut out from the street. The caves were originally settled by Spain’s Roma population (the Gypsies) and many are still used today. Indeed, there are lots of places within the Albayzin to go and watch Flamenco dancing, which is deeply rooted in the Roma culture.
So I kept walking. It was still early in the day (before noon), so I knew I had a little time before the heat would be too much. I didn’t have to be at the Alhambra until 3:00, so I thought I would walk for another hour or so and then head back to grab lunch. Plus, I didn’t want to run into the tour group again, so I thought it was best to put some distance between them and myself. As I walked, I noticed a funny little statue that a lot of people were photographing, so I did too. To be honest, I’m not sure if this guy is a fisherman (unlikely, given that the city of Granada itself is not on the water), a toreador (bull-fighter), or flamenco dancer. The latter two are the most likely, given the location of the statue. But clearly, he was important, or 12 old ladies would not have been taking his picture. So here he is!
Alas, he was also my downfall, as I turned the corner at whatever street this statue guarded and continued my trek up into the sky. By now, I had completely abandoned the map (or, if I’m being honest, gave up trying to pretend I could read it) and was just going up. As I walked further, there were signs for many interesting places to stop, including the Museum of the Roma Women and a Flamenco Studio. Unfortunately, neither was open, so I just kept walking. There were stunning views out along the mountain side and I assumed (incorrectly, it turns out) that whatever went up must eventually go down. So up I went. And I saw some interesting things, like this house completely decorated with Spanish pottery.
I have no explanation of why this house exists, who thought it was a good idea, or whether it has any special meaning. I just know it was absolutely hysterical and I especially liked the sign asking for money for upkeep. I’m imagining that some enterprising Spanish couple realized that people were walking by their house in great numbers and decided to do something different to capitalize on it. Who knows, maybe it was inherited pottery that they didn’t even like?
It was after the pottery house that I began chatting with another traveler, a solo female probably a few years younger than myself. By the time we reached the pottery house, we had both realized we were traveling in the same direction, so we said hello and commented that the owners must be crazy (sounds way more fun in Spanish, when you’re calling someone loco). After another 20 minutes of walking and not seeing a soul, we started chatting some more about where the heck we were! It turns out that we kept going up but somewhere along the way, had wandered off the Albayzin path and were now just randomly walking into oblivion. Now, the owners of the pottery house weren’t the only “loco” ones around.
It turns out that my companion (whose name I never did get, which is a shame) worked in the hotel industry and was originally from Torremolinos (a town on Costa del Sol, in the Malaga province – maybe 90 minutes by car from where I live). She was working at a hotel in Granada and had the day off, so she decided to take in the sights. She has also previously worked in Madrid and in Costa Rica and was scheduled to leave for a yet unknown destination in a few weeks time. We had plenty of time to chat when we realized that we were not going in the right direction and decided to sit and wait at a random – and deserted – bus stop. And I’m proud to say that the entire conversation was in Spanish!
As we sat in our random bus stop, we realized that there was a group of young people nearby; it turns out that they were a band breaking down from a party the night before (that had to be an interesting party – we were not in a place where there would be any complaining neighbors!). As luck would have it, we were at a bus stop that no one uses, so the drummer advised us to head down the street a bit to a place where a bus would actually stop (this, it seems, is a Spanish phenomenon – buses that adhere to their own routes and schedules, no matter what the printed materials would like you to think). Thirty minutes and a lot of nervous glances back and forth, we were finally on a bus! This was great, until we realized that we had absolutely no idea where the bus was going.
I must say, it was a pretty interesting experience as far as bus riding goes.
But 20 minutes later, the driver dropped us off at the aforementioned Plaza Nueva, we both breathed a huge sigh of release, and said our goodbyes. I decided that now was definitely the time for lunch – and a drink (tinto de verano, anyone?). As I looked around for a place to grab lunch, I found a square filled with cafes advertising their Menu del Dia. In Spain (and a lot of other European countries), the mid-day meal is the big one, so restaurants offer an appetizer, a main dish, a desert, a drink, and some bread for a fixed price. Usually, there’s gazpacho or melon con jamon (my two favorites) for the appetizer, a variety of meats, fishes, and tortillas espanolas for the main course (best described as a thick egg and potato omelet – in the good restaurants, they will actually season it with stuff), and coffee, ice cream, or fruit for dessert (the amount of ice cream consumed in Europe is mind boggling). One dish that I’ve been very excited to eat since getting to Spain is paella (seasoned rice with fish, shellfish, meats, chicken, and anything else they decide to put in it), but it’s usually only served for 2 or more people. Luckily for me, I found a restaurant in Granada that was happy to serve it to just me (I have yet to convince any of the Spanish wait staff that I can in fact consume enough paella for two people, so they usually won’t serve it to me) and I enjoyed a lovely lunch of gazpacho, paella, ice cream, and tinto de verano. And my waiter has lived in Denver for 10 years. Go figure!
And as I ate lunch, I was hoping that the afternoon would not quite so eventful.
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