October 12, 2011
Columbus Day.
Chilling out, an expression which means, resting by doing as little as possible, is exactly what I've been doing since arriving in Granada. I haven't even gone to see the world famous Alhambra palace, as I don't much care for such: seeing it from the outside suffices, and anyway a ticket to get in most be purchased in advance. I am staying at a hostel, but not the backpacker-type, instead there are boisterous school groups, and presently, a big group of Spanish pensioners that are every bit as loud. In the time I've been here, I haven't found another with something in common to socialise with. But at lease I've got a room to myself. No dormitories here. There is no kitchen as well, so I've got to eat out, which isn't ideal on a budget. And-moreover portions are small, so often after spending ten Euros for a meal, you leave the table still feeling hungry.
The modern city is dominated by a long through avenue called "Camino Ronda" which is lined with drab nineteen-fifties and sixties blocks either side. Though it could be much drabber if it weren't for the weather, which is everyday clear sky-warm sunshine, as clear as skies can be allowing for all the traffic smog. Walk off this main thoroughfare however and the street layout is stupid, it being next to impossible to find your way, and I usually end up getting lost for a while until, I find myself again in a street I recognize from before.
Today was a normal weekday, or so I thought until walking along Camino Ronda at nine o'clock, and saw the shops with their shutters still down and, I was puzzled to know where all the usual work-bound march of people-the usual morning rush-hour traffic had gone. The street which is usually a hive of activity, was eerily empty. The thought that this is a public holiday then came to mind. Columbus day perhaps. Although I am not sure of the exact date, it is this time of year.
The only place open for business was a Chinese barbershop. A good thing, as I really needed a haircut, so went in. There not being any other customers, I was back out again shortly, with a close crop and neatly trimmed beard.
Now feeling somewhat like Samson, I made my way to the old town and up a narrow winding street to a hilltop, where there's a vista of the Alhambra with it's Sierra Nevada backdrop. The tourists came forth pointing their cameras, and many handed their cameras to strangers, to take that memento snap of themself arm in arm with companion, the Alhambra in the background. Lots too satdown wherever there was shade, resting, listening to a busker play guitar. There were artisans sat with homemade jewelry laid out on the ground, explaining their craft in English to interested novelty seekers. I sat there too on a low wall, mind far away thinking over all I'd experienced on the road this last two months. I thought too of my time in South America. An emotional moment then came over me as a tear came to my eye. The young girl sitting next was looking and asked was I okay. I met her eye and assured her I was.
Later, downhill in town, I'd lunch of Kebab sat in the street and a smile came to my face on hearing the build up of commotion from the approaching parade, which when it came by, was a barrage of sound; each country of South America was represented in national dress, waving bandeiras, big speakers with loud music and dancing. It felt must like being on the streets of La Paz as the Bolivians passed, small people in their bright multi-coloured jackets and distinct horn music. No doubt I was right about it being Columbus Day.
Finally, I've got to get back home. I could cycle but it's getting cold this time of year; and furthermore, I don't much fancy riding single-speed any more. I've been to a bikeshop, which although they stock Merida bikes, don't have the required spare-part, the illusive gear hanger: NO SURPRISES THERE! I will take a train to Madrid therefore and from there fly.
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