March 17, 2023
To Granada
Act II of my three-act tour is a month-long loop in Andalusia, beginning and ending in Granada. It opened this morning with 4:55 am cab ride to Orly Airport, normally a much shorter trip than out to Charles De Gaulle. And it was quick, at least until we hit a major traffic jam at the entrance to the airport. Our pace varied between a stop and a crawl as three lanes merged into one. Inside the airport was slightly less crazy, though I was spared waiting in the long check-in line by the fact that I had a business class ticket. I’m not certain why, but I vaguely remember when booking that the price for coach fare plus a checked bag was less than the price for business class, which included a checked bag. Go figure.
I enjoyed the perks of my business class ticket - connecting through Madrid meant two small meals, each containing a slice of Iberian ham - and arrived in Granada on a bright, sunny afternoon. My criteria for choosing a hotel was based on it's location in/near the old city and a willingness to store my bike bag for a month. I booked a nice place within walking distance of Alhambra, but I’d neglected to pay sufficient attention as to where exactly the hotel was located. Thus, I was a bit surprised when the cab driver indicated that he could not take me directly to the hotel as it accessible only on foot. Ah yes, the pedestrian only zones that are found in most European cities. I just hoped it wouldn’t be too far a walk.
The driver deposited me, bike and bag on the sidewalk in front of a small restaurant and pointed up a set of stairs to the hotel. Fortunately the stairs were neither steep, nor the distance to the hotel far. Figuring I needed at least two trips up the stairs, I asked a waiter if he could watch the bike for a moment. Instead, he took hold of the bike bag and offered to take it up the stairs. I slung my Black Hole Bag over my shoulders and the two of us carried the encased Vivien George up the steps to the hotel door. Thanking the waiter profusely, I promised I would come back for a meal.
The hotel itself was not without challenge as my room was upstairs, there was no lift, and there was not much space to assemble the bike downstairs. It worked out though, and I managed to get Vivien George put back together again before I collapsed on the bed and took a nap.
| Heart | 8 | Comment | 1 | Link |
| Heart | 5 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 2 | Comment | 0 | Link |
I was refreshed after the nap and ready for a little exploration of Grenada. I’m staying in the Albayzín area, the former Muslim quarter that drapes a hillside across from the Alhambra. Mirador Saint Nicolás is located at the top of hill and seemed a good destination for an early evening walk. After a quick trip down to the stairs to make a dinner reservation, I headed up the narrow twisting alleys to the Mirador. The place was jumping with activity, vendors selling trinkets from blankets, buskers singing on the wall, and scores of folks like me enjoying the sunlit Alhambra against the backdrop of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 1 | Link |
1 year ago
| Heart | 6 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 10 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 9 | Comment | 1 | Link |
| Heart | 8 | Comment | 3 | Link |
I took a circuitous route back down the hill, toward the Mirador de La Lona with views overlooking the modern city. I wandered through some of the University of Granada where students excitedly gathered for the latest art exhibition. The Albayzín seemed to be mostly a residential area, with a youthful vibe that included young adults, children and family gatherings. It was a city that made me feel welcome, warm and comfortable like a pair of Chuck Taylors – not too flashy but definitely wears well.
| Heart | 6 | Comment | 1 | Link |
1 year ago
As I'd promised earlier in the day, I went back to the restaurant whose waiter had helped carry my bike bag up the stairs to my hotel. It was an Italian restaurant, not too fancy and a place I might not have chosen were it not for an act of kindness by one of its staff. The pasta was fine, but it was the tiramisu that stole the show. The dessert was carefully assembled table-side: first a long slender ladyfinger laid down, doused in amaretto-flavored espresso, and carefully layered with quenelles of mascarpone; then a second ladyfinger and another layer of mascarpone, all topped with a fine shaking of cocoa. And it tasted divine, certainly among the best of the many tiramisus I enjoyed in Puglia last summer. And though Italian in origin, it was the perfect end to my first day in Spain.
| Heart | 7 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 13 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 3 |
El Granada is the only one of Burnham’s planned towns to be actually laid out, although only the streets were ever done. It’s rather grand, if you look at it from the air, but it’s not grand at all from the ground. Funky is most of the vibe, I’d say. The Ocean Shore never got as far as Santa Cruz and lasted only 12 years, mostly because it kept falling off the sides of the mountains (see Devils Slide). But it did give us a string of lovely little hamlets along the San Mateo County coast and a great bike path called the Coastal Trail.
I like my town a lot but I now long to see the real Granada because of your photos.
Buen viaje!
1 year ago
1 year ago
1 year ago