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