How many impressions fit into 24 hours?
We want to get up early, from 6am you can queue for Alhambra tickets. We wake up at half past nine. Our hostel life is rotting away. The young things go to bed late and sleep late. We do too now. At 10 we sit comfortably at breakfast for 3 euros. Toast. Coffee. Muesli and strange juice. It is cosy. Very much so. People from all over the world are here. Languages are spoken from all over the world. People are reading emails here and charging their mobile phones there. In the middle of it all, the toaster beeps unmistakably, indicating that it has done its job. I would love to stay here, immerse myself, dive in. Listen.
But at some point we'll have to go and try to get tickets for the Alhambra. Everywhere they wish us luck, wanting to go to the Alhambra on an unplanned Saturday in high season. They smile tiredly. We do as we always do. We take what comes.
First we book one of those tourist buses with hop-on-hop-off, which takes us through the city. It's unbelievably hot again, around 33 degrees for sure. Not a breath of air. Arriving at the top of the Alhambra, we stand in the ticket queue and 4 minutes later have our tickets in our hands. Please, what was so difficult about it? Or are we just lucky again? Either way, we are delighted and drink another of our beloved espressos and soon we are off into the huge area.
First the Generalife, which are super beautiful gardens with fountains and water features and whatnot. I imagine taking a stroll here with my girlfriends and having afternoon tea in one of the little domes, surrounded by orange trees and rusty canes. The footman would bring us pastries and perhaps he would be of service in other ways. Because up here, with the view over Granada, that would be something.
Either way, we walk the marked paths in our flip-flops and can't believe that such beauty exists. The camera clicks and clicks and I'm a little scared to sort through this mass of pictures. But these thoughts are beside the point, because as soon as I turn a corner, the next beautiful view appears. Sometimes with Sierra Nevada in the background, sometimes with Granada. Sometimes with fig trees, sometimes with plants unknown to me. And mind you, we are only in the Generalife, the first of four parts of the Alhambra.
We continue across the walls. Here a ruin, there an old palace. Here a flower garden, here a recently restored dome. We are now in line for the Nesrid Palace. After more than 2 hours of heat, I think to myself, oh, what will be important there? We queue up. And stand. In the blazing sun. I don't even like it any more, but everyone is brave. And the Arab family with their lively toddlers entertain the whole queue. Especially the dad, who tries to talk some sense into the rascals, is an entertainment for us. Sometimes I think his carotid artery is about to burst with rage. The boys really do everything they're not supposed to. They jump over barriers, they just run away, the mega made-up and fully clothed women, mothers, sisters run across the hot square after them and catch the boys. The dad roars and the spectators are happy about the distraction. Gerd and I wonder if the kids enjoy indulging in Moorish art in the scorching heat of medieval walls?
All the waiting is worth it. I have never seen such beautiful wall decorations. Decorations made of marble, wood and stone. Filigree and beautiful. Every wall is different, every pattern is different. After about 20 rooms, the camera's memory card and my head are already overflowing. So much richness of detail is intangible. I am thrilled and also a little overwhelmed. For the first time, I look forward to the peace and quiet at home, when I can look at the pictures again in peace.
Gerd would like to continue through the Alhambra, I can't. We take a break in a small hotel with an enchanting courtyard. Here I can slow down a bit and relax. And I would love to go on seeing everything, I've seen it all for today and just want to take a siesta. Our plan is to do only as much as it suits us and not how much "one" has to do.
So off to our tourist bushes and once again across town down to our hostel. Here we sleep in different rooms this time, I go into mine and talk in my bumpy English with a Frenchman who is 2 floors above me. The Taiwanese, who is still sleeping between us, is on his way.
After an hour's sleep, I wake Gerd and we meet downstairs in the kitchen and in the courtyard. Because we want to be low-budget on the road (which we manage less and less), I cook spaghetti pesto this time and we fill our stomachs. For dessert, I invite Gerd for an ice cream. I had already seen the gelateria the night before. Many people were queuing up to eat ice cream. And it was worth it.
Besides cooking in the hostel, we get a chance to talk to the receptionist. She is German and has lived here in Spain for many years. She loves life and tells us a lot about the conditions here. We ask and she answers. We are happy to finally talk to people from here. We would love to chat with her more, but unlike us, she has to work.
So we let ourselves drift through Granada for a second evening and take our bus again. This time it takes us high above the city to a district that I would call the artists' quarter. From here we have a fantastic view of the Alhambra illuminated at night, and here people sit with tapas and wine and enjoy the evening, which is still almost 30 degrees.
A little later we stroll back to our bus and drive home. We are full and only want one thing. To bed. Shortly before 12 we fall asleep in separate rooms.
