Two Sketches of Spain, Part II: "Playing pianos filled with flames!"

I said goodbye to probably my favorite city yet and caught a sleeper train to see my friend Laura in Granada. I think that's where pomegranates come from but I could be mistaken. I nervously greeted my three Spaniard bunkmates from behind a huge, thick language barrier. No English, no Spanish. Me llamo Mateo, buenas noches Jesus, Juan, Mario. But I awoke fine and was greeted by the dry, magnificent workings of the Sierra Nevada outside the window. With next to no money at all I needed two and a half weeks of free accommodation, but I had no clue what Laura had done for me until we were walking past the Moorish buildings of Granada and I about did a double take: I could stay in her sister and niece's house for a whole week while they were less than a mile away visiting Laura's parents. I never even met these people yet I wrote this when I was sitting on their den couch. I reminded myself that I'm in Andalusia and as with Santiago, this is the place where the universe conspires with you.

So in my haphazard way Barcelona and Granada were to be the two cities of my Spanish picture. Barcelona because it was cheaper than flying to Alicante or Madrid, Granada because that's where Laura lives. Yet multiple people have told me that I visited the two best places in Spain. There's much more to see here...the northern beaches and San Sebastian, the Mediterranean Costas, Madrid, etc. Another trip, another day, because I love Spain so much. Just like Daniel in the Elton John song. So Laura dropped me off at my new home in the village of Santa Fe, western border of Granada city. Santa Fe is small town Spain! No English here. I went to the supermercado and ordered enough chorizo and cream cheese to make a grown man cry, came back and locked the door, and PARTAAAYED!!! with some Corona. You must understand dear folks that living by myself still retains its childish novelty of freedom, and though I was standing for a week on the exact same spot, I couldn't have been happier in my traveler's shoes. I kicked my feet back and flipped through twentysomething channels of Spanish trash (excluding the gem of Star Wars Episode III dubbed into Spanish, with Anakin calling Obi-Wan "maestro" and R2D2 "are-dos"...I couldn't help but wonder if they were screwing up this translation as miserably as the Chinese so famously did). I sang loudly in the nude. I watched the dusky Sierras from the top floor balcony. I developed a domesticated routine for the happy alone mornings. And in the afternoons I would take the cheap bus into Granada and explore ("Uno para Granada, por favor").

Granada, as my guide picked up from the tourist office remarked, is the "bridge between the East and the West." I'm fairly sure there are a lot of those in Europe, but Granada has an argument for itself. The area has been tossed back and forth between the Spanish Catholics and the Nasrid Muslims for quite a while. The 600 years' influence of Eastern rule struck me as far more exotic and mysterious and fascinating than the (certainly beautiful) Catholic architecture and culture, and as in Barcelona, wandering through the narrow alleys arrested my senses. These winding, climbing passages brought fountains, "teterias" (atmospheric haunts for drinking tea and smoking hookah), whitewash, cobblestone, cave-homes, bushy flowers in pots, oh and by the way the most authentic flamenco in the world. I spent a few hours in the Alhambra, a massive castle and gardens (the most famous in Spain) and secretly picked a delicious fig from one of the gardens' trees. At night Laura proved herself an excellent tour guide as we walked the streets and squares and ate tapas and ice cream and other such things. Here's some good photography: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tochis/sets/72157603622921037/

I also have to send my thanks to the enormous hospitalidad of Laura's whole family. Despite the fact that communication was sparse and difficult, they had me over multiple times for food (Laura's dad's paella is worth its reputation in gold letters). And two days ago we took a day trip into the Sierra Nevada and visited the jaw dropping Alpujarra district, where we rambled and ate a traditional meal in the small town of Pampaneira. I wish I spoke more Spanish. Who wants to encourage me to keep learning it so I can take it to my next destination, South/Central America? Sadly, toeing dangerously close to imposition and bankruptcy drove me away from my dear Laura and dearest Spain, which I believe I enjoyed even more than the UK. So in one day i trekked from the Other Santa Fe, surrounded by the Other Sierra Nevadas, .....uh...doubtless over the heads of some Other Football players, to the Other Birmingham. Tomorrow I will head to my final destination London, where I will proceed to throw down with my friends Dorian and Veevs for a week. Then all will end. And that about catches you up, my friends.