And on the Next Hill...

There's a ravine in Granada. I don't know much about it. I peered down from the Albayzin. The wide promenade and the river I saw below seemed nice, but like most other tourists (who were smart enough to book ahead of time), I was headed to the next hill.

On it was perched a palace built in the 1300s by the rulers of the Emirate of Granada called Alhambra. Suffice it to say, that a lot has changed since then.

Detailed inscriptions litter the walls

OMG it's Jeremy Lin!

Court of the Myrtles - the central courtyard

Hall of the Ambassadors

The Citadel - the lost GoldenEye level!

Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, had his own palace built in the middle of the complex, effectively giving the Moors the finger. He was nice enough to not knock down the rest, though.

By the way, I should mention that after hours of walking around the palace grounds, I got a snack and the coffee from the central square. That was the most satisfying coffee I've ever had in my life. I then walked over to the Generalife, which is actually a big garden, not a medical insurance corporation like the name evoked in my mind.

Wandering the Hills of the Albayzín

Granada is the least "European" town I've seen in Europe. My course director expressed a haughty disdain for this town; he suggested I visit the Alhambra and get out; it's just small town with a bunch hippies. That's what he said. What I heard, however, was "perfect for backpacking."

I booked a hostel in the Albayzín, the old Moorish quarter. It was right around the corner from a narrow North African market street. It was filled with the scent of incense and tea, the walkway made of mosaically-arranged stones, the shops filled with deep red and browns and the occasional bright hue, a mixture of rugs, fabric, and nicknacks. After resting from my long walk from the train station, I wandered around the Albayzin. Around every corner was an Old World corridor, a row of Moor-inspired houses, a centuries-old tree, brimming with sunlight and a history I could not fathom.

The market near my hostel.

An interesting aside. My hostel offered a "Street Art Walking Tour." I jumped on this, as though this town was really fun to wander, a free tour can't hurt either. There were maybe 3 pieces of street are the whole way, though. The main event was the hippie who lived in a cave. Yes - Granada is a hilly place. And there is an entire neighborhood, Sacromonte, of caves. This hippie, who I will call Don Juan for the purposes of this blog and my perception of his former sexual prowess, showed us around his multi-room cave. We ended in the deepest, darkest, room of the cave, where he led us in a Buddhist chant and moment of silence.

Our hippie friend Don Juan. The green tarp is his garage. For his Ferrari. No joke.

Street art imitating life