The Amazing Maze of the Albaicin

GRANADA, SPAIN -- April 20, 2006

I allowed myself to sleep in this morning, in my little attic room. Last night, Alessandro, the Italian hotel staff member who showed me to my room, gave me a visual tour of the city from the rooftop terrace, reachable by a small set of stairs just outside my room. I dreamt that I woke just before sunrise and, with my tripod in position, captured some beautiful images of the sun rising over Granada. I was quite disappointed when I woke to realize it was just a dream, and I was still tucked, undisturbed, under my covers.

This morning, I had a staff member call ahead to Ronda to reserve a room for me there. I suppose that my romantic notions of dropping into a new town and finding a place to sleep are entirely unrealistic, given the popularity of Europe. I would prefer not to spend two hours wandering around a strange city, having doors shut in my face because there is ¨no room in the inn¨, again any time soon.

After a light breakfast of marmalade toast and milk, I began wandering in the general direction of the Albaicin, twisting alleys filld with little white houses and some excellent views of Granada, located on the other side of the Daro River from the Alhambra. I must have taken a wrong turn because, before I knew it, I was illgaly walking among paying ticket-holders in the Alhambra.

I stayed as long as my curiosity could manage the security risk. But when I approached a ticket checkpoint, I slipped back out the way I had entered. (This site, one of the most exquisite palaces in all of Europe, is limited to only 7,000 daily, and lines are hours long! My plan was to wake long before the crack of dawn tomorrow and wait for the ticket window to open in hopes of snagging a ticket, and my only chance to see the real Alhambra.)

I found a tiny market and bought a loaf of bread, two bananas, and a package of salami for my picnic lunch. Then I headed again for the Albaicin, intent on finding it the second time around. I did. On the way, I met a middle-aged foursome traveling from the States. What a small world, they were also from Pennsylvania! It has been such an unexpected pleasure to rub shoulders with so many travelers, and meet so many people as I move from one place to another!

We climbed up the hill together to the small gypsy caves carved in the Sacromonte, in the side of the mountain. I was amazed to learn that over 3,500 of these caves existed in 1950, occupied by gypsis looking for cheap housing. Inside each cave, we glimpsed at traditional life -- weaving looms, horseshoes and an assortment of reins, cups, saucers, ladles fashioned of brass.

I continued alone to the Mirador de San Nicholas, a fantastic lookout point from high in the Albaicin. From this point, I could look across the river to the forested hill with the Alhambra resting majestically upon it (for some climactic reason, the hillside on which the Albaicin rests is covered with cactus -- two completely different ecosystems in one relatively small space). And behind, the Sierra Nevada mountains filled my view, snow still powdering its upper reaches. Here I picnicked with a crowd of others enjoying the view. Someone played a guitar. Sun washed over me. It was a beautiful moment.

As I left the mirador, an older gentlemen struck up a conversation with me. His name was Rafael, and he was an Italian, long since living in Granada, where he worked as a painter. We enjoyed some fascinating conversation about culture, the creative process, and Granada´s Arabic roots. He pointed out buildings still standing since the 10th century, when the Moors rules this land -- a minaret now converted to a church´s bell tower, yet still dressed with the Arabic-style cutouts in its stone face. I joined him for some home-brewed Japanese tea, and he gave me a tour of his art gallery and studio.I left to continue on to the Catedral, but not before stopping for a small scoop of helado (ice cream).

I passed down a road cluttered with shops selling Moroccan art. And I thought fondly of the country, now left behind, where I spent three intense yet magical weeks. As remarkable as Granada may be, it was having a difficult time living up to my expectations. Morocco did me in with its fantastically dramatic, bold, and outlandish sights, sounds, smells, and colors. I am alreading missing a hot tajine and steaming mint tea, missing the dinner ritual that always turned my fingertips the color of saffron. But Morocco is in the past. I am switching gears to something new. And I have high hopes for Spain. I have yet to journey to a place I haven´t fallen in love with... and Spain will be no exception!

~Melanie --Posted by Melanie to The World Beckons. And She Moves. at 4/20/2006 04:03:00 PM

Last Night in Morocco

TANGIER, MOROCCO -- April 20, 2006

I take an afternoon bus from Chefchaouen to Tetoan, and on to Tangier, the busy, less-than-scenic port from where I will catch my ferry on to Tarifa, Spain tomorrow morning. My last night in Morocco is not without hassles. Everywhere, people want to sell you hashish. Maybe I'm finally ready to leave this country, but I feel I'm seeing Morocco with jaded eyes. The novelty seems to have worn off, at least in this crummy town. The streets are smelly, the people uncultured (one man stepped into the sidewalk to empty the contents of his nose right on the pavement), and everything is so dirty. My 9AM ferry couldn't be soon enough. Spain, here I come!

~Melanie

Grinning and Bearing it in Granada

GRANADA, SPAIN -- April 19, 2006

After snaking my way through Morocco´s port authority, I found myself aboard the cleanest surroundings I´v seen since leaving London -- the ferry to Spain. I happily stored my luggage in the racks and took a window seat, from where I caught a good glimpse of the Straits of Gibraltar during the 35-minute ride to Tarifa.

Arriving at 10:00 AM, I went off in search of a bank and bus connection info. An hour and a half and several requests for help later, I managed to find myself at the bus station where I would catch my connection to Granada.
I had originally thought to head first to Ronda, cute little town of white houses in the Ruta de Pueblas Blancas, located a few hours north. But the bus connections weren´t so favorable, and Granada was an easy second choice (rather, I was anticipating this town would be even more fascinating). I was a little sad to leave the small beach town of Tarifa so soon -- it looked like a lovely, relaxing place to spend a few days, and by all the advertisements, a well-known sot for windsurfing.

I caught my bus connection to Algericas, stopover on the way to Granada. I waited for what seemed like forever for my bus. Several hours later, I managed to locate a time-and-temperature sign, and realized that I had long since missed my bus... I hadn´t realized that Spain´s timetable was 2 hours ahead of Morocco´s!!

It was nearly 7:30 PM by the time I managed to catch the next bus and roll into town. I spent the next 2 hours wandering the city like I was on some kind of nightmarish scavenger hunt, trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night. Every place I tried was full, and they would send me on to another hostel or hotel on the other side of town. Each street was a discovery of winding, meandering cobblestones lined with touristy markets, cafes, and residences, and at many points, I felt much more lost than found.

Beginning to think all was lost, I was contemplating the idea of spending the night on the streets, curled up in some quiet alley, and wondering whether I would wake to find all my belongings taken. That was a bit discomforting.

Eventually, I managed to find a double room available for the night, for 38 Euro... a budget- blower, to be sure, but I was absolutely out of options. Before long, I dragged my tired body to the top of the narrow building, where my 4th-floor attic bedroom was located. The ceiling was so low, I had to duck to crawl into bed. But ohhhhhhh, what a deep sleep I enjoyed, curled up on a soft mattress under down-filled blankets. And oh, how absolutely marvelous to have a Western-style toilet back again!!

~Melanie

The Blues in Chefchaouen

CHEFCHAOUEN, MOROCCO -- April 17-19, 2006

After 4 hours on a chicken bus leaving Fes at 6AM, Said and I arrive in Chefchaouen a bit tired. But within minutes of arriving, there are smiles on our faces. It's contagious; it's in the air here.

Chefchaouen is quieter, more peaceful, more relaxed. It is the perfect place to end my stay in Morocco. It has a different vibe, a different look, even a different color. Nearly everything here is painted white or blue, and set against the lush green Rif mountains.

We wander the narrow, hilly streets. It is market day in the village, and women are displaying their vegetables for sale among the villagers. The streets are lined with blue-painted doors, walls, stones. The dead ends are easy to tell, as the entire set of houses is painted blue from top to bottom.

The views into the Rif mountains are amazing, setting off the white Andalusian-influenced architecture of the houses spilling down the mountainside. A lonely mosque, now only an empty shell, sits majestically on a small but lofty ridge, its minaret a brilliant white against a backdrop of emeralds. A small stream tumbles down the mountainside, a cascade of small waterfalls in its wake.

We wander the kasbah, peeking out of austere windows at the mountains and charming village all around. We handle the iron wrist and ankle cuffs now rusting in the lifeless prison cell.

Back in town, we munch some sweet dates and walnuts, and follow the sounds of a Moroccan band banging away from a small stone room. We join them, and Said impresses us all with his musical skills as he demonstrates his proficiency on not just one but two different instruments!

We wander to our hearts' content, and dine on bread and harire (soup) before crashing on backache-inducing mattresses.... Oh well, I guess nothing is perfect... Being in this tranquil place, with a good friend, and realizing my time in Morocco is dwindling to nothing, leaves me a bit nostalgic. I know there is much to look forward to. My adventures have only begun. But oh, the memories I have made here!

~Melanie

Northern Explorations: Up the Coast to Casablanca

EL JADIDA & CASABLANCA -- April 16, 2006

The adventure begins today with breakfast at a classy cafe. I have the best omelette yet in Morocco -- the fromage (cheese) was perfect -- smooth, tangy... I ate a huge plate and washed it down with freshly squeeze orange juice.

We moved on to El Jadida, a UNESCO World Heritage site and former Portuguese port city. Said and I climbed up and around the ramparts for some fantastics views inward to the medina and outward to the ocean.

I descended down some dempt, dark steps to the belly of El Jadida's ancient cistern, and marvelled at the simply beauty that lie here. In this earthen spot, made beautiful by artful architecture rich in arches, soft light fell through an oculus in the center of the ceiling, creating stunning reflections of arches in the shallow water collecting along the cistern floor.

We then drove on to Casablanca, largest city in Morocco. On entering the city, I was impressed with its initial appeal -- beautiful white houses lay in clusters along the shore, with the deep blue of the ocean beckoning just beyond.

Working our way into the city, the famous Hassan II Mosque made a striking appear- ance. The minaret is incredibly tall, breaking into the blue sky with its intricate blue and green mosaics. Arches throughout the design are graceful and eye-catching. The main prayer hall is so large that St. Peter's Basilica would be swallowed whole by this impressive structure. Its location, right along the Atlantic, makes for a beautiful setting.

Here, Said and I catch a train to Fes, where we will stay one night, and then finish our journey on to Chef- chaouen early in the morning. I catch a few peeks at the immense medieval city of Fes, but am not terribly impressed. The alleys of the medina echo those I have seen in other cities, chiefly Marrakech. There is not enough to hold me here any longer, and it is just as well. My time in Morocco is running out.

~Melanie