Life: Idiotropic

It rained all night and into the morning.  The sound was soothing, but the forecast not.  Another wet day of vacation and though no one really felt like walking in the rain, the fridge was fairly bare and we didn't have enough to keep us full all day - or warm. We needed firewood too.  Hemming and hawing, then finally a decision to go.

On a nice day you can easily park in the Alhambra's vast parking lots and walk down to Granada's Albaicin district.  On a nice day without children, it would be a leisurely walk.  Today, with rain and clouds and cold and wind,  we thought it best to park closer.

So we left the parking lot, and drove into town.  I was using my internal navigation system with a general idea of where I wanted to go based on the view I had a couple days prior from the top tower of the Alhambra.  Lucky husband to be driving a car down tiny little cobbled streets in and out of illogical traffic with his wife's "internal navigation system."  Of course, I was using my GPS too and my iphone and the poor man somehow stayed sane enough.  Parking garages were hard to find, or full, or being painted.  A lot of driving in circles and we finally found one near the Plaza Real and parked.

It had a bathroom.  The girls used it.  Kirk used it.  Kirk didn't come out of it.  The door was stuck.  The lock was broken.  I heard the door handle shake, keys and coins jingled.  He was looking for his Leatherman and trying to take the door apart.  Tiara and I rummaged through our purses trying to find anything that would work to take apart the door handle from our side.  Coins, keys, tweezers, and eyelash curlers are not valid replacements for a small phillips head screwdriver.  We know that now.  I also know that although it's really fun to kick in doors, I just don't have the strength.  I tried twice and failed twice.  15, 20 minutes later we'd all given up.  Screws, handles and various parts were all piled up on Kirk's side of the door, but it remained completely locked.  The girls and I ran up a few flights of stairs to the little help station in the garage and I told them that my husband was locked in the bathroom on the 3rd level.  They weren't surprised.  Apparently it's a reoccurring problem.  Before Elise and I caught up, the door was open.  No idea how.  Kirk handed the man a pile of brass parts and we all walked away.  Our first 20 minutes in Granada and all we'd seen was a stinky old parking garage.

The silver lining was in the sun that had miraculously made an appearance during that time underground, so without umbrellas, we found our way up the street, down pedestrian only cobbled streets to a nice plaza set up with a small market near the church.  I had a map in my head and my iPhone maps in hand, so I could track where we were according to where I wanted to go.  The black tiles that covered the ground in the plaza by the church were just wet enough to reflect the Cathedral in their smooth surface.

We never did find the Cathedral's entrance, so we never ventured inside, but we did walk around it noting several old fountains and two herb and spice sellers - tables filled with baskets heaped with herbs, teas, and spices all sold per gram in bulk.  The saffron is so intensely neon that it looks more like the cheese powder in Kraft's macaroni and cheese.

A lady in the gift shop told me that the old Albaicin district is too far to walk.  "Take the bus," she said.  "With the children it is too far."  We walked a couple blocks, stopped short at cries of "I'm hungry," and found a treasure.  A tiny Indian restaurant tucked into a tinier ally near the Plaza Nuevo.  Beautiful, quiet, and the most delicious food.  Everyone ate.  Elise loved the cheese stuffed naan.  Luci ate Elise' tandoori chicken.  Everyone just thoroughly enjoyed each dish although my assumption that the medium spiciness might be too bland was wrong and I missed the days of free all you can drink tap water as I ordered yet another large bottle to wash away the heat.  We left this time with a printed map and the good news that the Albaicin is not that far.

The Carrera del Darrio leads from the Plaza Nuevo along a narrow sunken stream between the edge of the old Moorish neighborhood and the hill where the Alhambra sits.  The road is so narrow in parts that when traffic goes by, people immediately dart into doorways and paste themselves flat along the walls.  The car passes and people relax again and spill into the streets.  Peak over the side of the old stone railing and you'll see the creek below, the grassy bank, and about a hundred cats.  Not all together, but grouped into small groups, wild cats are everywhere.

The historic Albaicin.  This is what I really wanted to see in Granada - the old neighborhood of narrow passageways and cute shops.  I didn't have a plan or an agenda.  The Moorish bathhouse that I'd hoped to see was already closed and that was ok, really.  I just wanted to walk, see, photograph, and soak up a bit of the famed atmosphere of this special part of Granada.  We walked along the creek until nearly the end of the road there, then cut in to the quiet residential streets, stretching gently upwards towards the San Nicolas church.  Walked up one, cut over, walked down, then over, then up again... a zig zag of curiosity down absolutely silent streets, many with a clear view of the palace on the hill.  An occasional local, or an occasional tourist, but little else stirred there.  Eventually we neared the southern end near the Church of San Gregorio where the neighborhood sprang to life very much in the style of Paris' Montmarte.  Artsy, crowded with tourists, with a bit of a rough counter-culture.  Brightly colored Moroccan wares spilling out of shops onto the sidewalks, insense, and rows upon rows of hookah pipes.  Through tea shop windows groups sat around tiny tables taking their turn puffing on the hookah pipes in the center snapping souvenier photos as it went around.  The sun had set and the streets here were getting livelier.  After all, it was New Year's Eve.  We looked in a few shops looking for the genie lamp that Arianna hoped to find, didn't find anything that we couldn't live without, though looking back, the prices were fantastic.  Seville and local shops here are much more expensive.

Dark and time to head home, we made our way back towards the church.  The holiday themed lights hung over the streets, each street with different lights.  Poinsetias, angels, ribbons, and chandeliers.  The girls paused at the shoe stores.  Tiara went into a crowded clothing store.  It's the week after Christmas, but there aren't any sales here yet.  The Spanish don't get gifts until January 6th, so this is the busy week for last minute shopping.  We hoped to get ice cream for the girls, but all the local ice cream shops in the plaza were closed and the churro shops, though they sell ice cream as well, were so crowded, there was no way we could find a place for 6 to sit, so we circled the Plaza de Bib-Rambla then headed back towards our parking garage finding a Ben and Jerry's next door.  Not what I'd hoped for.  Not local, not new, way too American, but convenient and open on a night that the girls needed the ice cream treat we'd promised.  New Year's Eve we let them get the big chocolate and candy coated cones.

We didn't have any grapes and still needed breakfast things, so we stopped at the Corte Ingles just before leaving.  They have a beautiful grocery store - high end, but nice.  It was packed, and difficult to navigate, but we were able to get grapes (a Spanish New Year's food) and enough snacks for the remainder of our time in Granada.  It showered as we came out and we ran for the car.

New Year's Eve is Spain is a quiet family holiday.  Families and friends stay in together, share a nice meal, relax, and watch the New Year arrive in relative quiet.  Crazy parties happen after midnight if they happen at all.  We'd hoped to do something different for New Years.  I'd looked for concerts or shows, for city celebrations or special festivities that we might participate in, but not here.  In some towns they go for a run in red underwear, but not here and not this family.  So, we celebrated in traditional Spanish style, together as a family in the quiet of our home (our vacation rental), and with a bunch of grapes.

As we waited for midnight,  Kirk played Skip-Bo with the girls while I blow-dried the rest of our wet laundry.  Elise fell asleep early.  I counted out grapes.  And as we neared the last 12 seconds, as if the bell of the church was audible, I tried to eat one grape with each ring of the bell.  It's a tradition.  12 grapes with each of the 12 rings of the bells striking midnight.  12 eaten brings 12 months good luck.  I only ate 6 in time.  It's harder than it sounds.

Another day tomorrow.  Happy New Year.

More  Photos:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=181665&id=674507268&l=a63502bdc4