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