Granada is one of those cities with the capacity to break one’s heart. I know because as I left this morning – in quite a frantic state – I felt a part of me being torn away as the train left the station.
Its steadfast in its ways, welcoming in its demeanor, demanding you get to know “it” because it is not changing for you. Its views are awe inspiring, its afternoons and “tea time” the most relaxing of your life, its vibrant spirit sweeps you away and takes a piece of your heart. At least that has been my experience.
When I first embarked on its cobbled streets (often with no name, or at least not one that corresponds with the map), I had no clue what I was doing there other than to see the Alhambre, and that my step-brother, Andrew, had said it was amazing – a “must do”.
The first afternoon was full of getting lost and finding my way, realizing it didn’t matter the street name, if it was headed up the mountain it would take me to where I wanted to go--the same with going down. All streets and roads all lead to the same place, and in a city like this, you can never be truly lost for long.
Sitting in the Abyzine yesterday, watching the sunset while locals played drums and chanted, drinking tinto de verrano (red wine of summer) with new friends and watching the most amazing sunset. It was truly one of the best moments of my trip, and something I will remember for quite some time. It wasn’t about the people, or the place, but the way I felt that made that moment and that evening so spectacular.
There is something about small towns that evoke a stronger spirit than these big metropolis areas. Madrid and Barcelona with both wonderful, and while they have a character of their own, it was difficult to separate out the various experiences in each place. For example, did I see that on the Gran Via or Las Ramblas? Did I have the Serrano and fig dish in Chueca or Barcenoleta? The experiences there run together, into a mishmash that is basically “big city Spain”. But the moments spent wandering the seaside of San Sebastian, gorging on a meal for a king in Donibane, becoming irked at the ways of Bilbao, and going back in time in Toledo were all true experiences that are held by that city, and that city alone.
Visiting the Alhambre with its amazing architecture, seeing the city from far away and meeting locals who had never left Granada and never would, helped define this place for me, and I realize there are few places like this. It is like a river, bending in time, going nowhere quickly, and has the capacity to soothe one’s soul, even if one had no clue they were in need of soothing.
Granada, for me, is one of those places that you would learn Spanish for, just to come back and converse solidly with its people. Their eyes are intoxicating, and I am sure their stories are equally so.
Fourty-eight hours was all I gave this little place, but I know I will be back, and with a much better vocabulary. Sometimes a single breath is all you need to fall in love, and this tiny place truly took my breath away.
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