granada

what would have taken four and a half hours by train, took us over six on the bus. after switching buses, twice, and waiting for an hour in between we rolled into the hot granada just in time to find our hostel, settle in and realize that somehow by cruel fate we have been transported back to morocco (minus all the dirt and aggressiveness, plus zara). the city center resembles a mini version of paris with alhambra looking over the hill. we hiked to see it early in the morning, and good thing because we needed at least half of the day to see everything, including the beautiful nasrid palaces. we reserved our tickets ahead of time as recommended by many people we met along the way. they let people see them in 30 minute time slots according to the appointed time. unfortunately the most important, and possibly most impressive, ‘the palace of the lions’ was undergoing renovation, we could only have imagined what it once looked like, and hopefully what it will look like soon again. the most annoying thing about granada was the people. nobody spoke english and when we tried asking for help all we’d get is a bunch of pissed off locals who threw little hissy fits, as to show us how unwelcome we are. it was especially hard when we were trying to leave the city to go to valencia (where everyone is dearly helpful and welcoming, by the way and what i thought spanish people were all about to begin with). ‘granadians’ in my mind are a million times worst then the stereotypical french from paris. for the last part of our day we went on a street art tour with a local ‘cave dweller’, which sounds worst then it is. more on that in the next post.