Day 11: Granada, redux

We were a little slow getting up in the morning. Understandable, since we went to bed so late and may have imbibed a bit, but I will plead the fifth on that for now. We started by walking around the beautiful area where we were staying and stopped for a bit to listen to some music and look at the Alhambra from across the river. Andalindsia lost her shoe over the edge of the wall we were sitting on and a little boy ran the shoe up the hill for her. It was cute. And not a small hill. We wondered how often that happened.

 

Then we went to search for the houses built into the caves on the hill. It wasn’t particularly obvious how we should get there through the winding streets. We stopped often to ask for directions. Let me clarify, Andalindsia stopped often to ask for directions because I was useless trying to talk to the locals. My Spanish isn’t rusty, it is absent.

 

We finally found the caves and there was a little museum of houses. We weren’t sure it was worth the money or the walk up the hill, but looking back at the photos now, I think it was. They look like regular houses of white stucco from the front, but when you walk inside, the walls are not flat or straight. The rooms are recessed into these caves covered in white paint. In the museum, different houses had different functions. A bedroom, a kitchen, a workshop, or the stables filled each of the houses. It was really quite interesting. And unlike all of the Moorish places, these were fully decorated for the time.

 

From there, we walked back down into the main area of town and wandered around a bit. We watched some of the kids dancing at one of the Crux de Mayo sites. Then it started to rain and we took cover in the little streets of shops while waiting for the cathedral to open. No photos were allowed, so I don’t remember too much about it now. I just recall that it was big and gaudy and filled with more relics. Why churches like to keep bones of dead people in weird containers totally escapes me.

 

Eventually, we headed back home.  We had to get there before the sun went down due to the missing headlights. We stopped and picked up some groceries. For the most part, Spanish grocery stores are a lot like grocery stores in the US. Some differences were that we had to put a euro in the cart to get it to detach from the other carts, and then we’d get the euro back when we returned the cart to the proper spot. This keeps people from leaving carts next to your car and dinging your door. Another difference was the dried meat just hanging around. Big shanks of it. Like it was used for decoration almost. I saw it everywhere, but you could buy it in the grocery store.

 

Lastly, there was the non-alcoholic champagne with a clown on it for kids. We have this in the states, but it is sparkling cider and is not marketed for kids birthday parties. Bizarre. The drinking age there is pretty much nonexistent, so I guess this isn’t entirely unreasonable. Andalindsia’s kids were funny when the subject of alcohol was broached. They have no interest in it and find their school mates who over indulge to be uncool. It was nice to hear from them that they realize that it isn’t cool to show up to class drunk.

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