Posted by: Team McSlade | June 9, 2010

Granada…todavia, de nada

Three days in Granada has been ace.

Jo has declared that Granada is her favourite city in Spain and that had the university been here instead of Gandía that would have been alright in her books.
This city has soul, it has style and it hasn’t sold it out to the highest bidder. Sure, as the  blog showed there are a few idiot tourists to fight your way through, but on the whole Granada knows the gravy train it is on and it’s riding it to the coast.

After Alhambra we decided that the bus was the order of the evening to get back into our old town area and then we wandered in search of dinner. One waiter accosted us in a friendly fashion, told us to see Alhambra from St Nicholas’ square and then to return to eat at his restaurant.
We went to St Nick’s and then found a better restaurant with a cheaper feed. No visa accepted here, cash only, so off to the bank and then back for two courses, a drink and dessert for 7,90€ a head. As the 2nd course was tranquila-ed out we checked the time and it was only 10 o’clock.
Yes, we have finally become Spaniards eating when one normally thinks of having a kip. Kids were out kicking balls around, tours of the elderly were parading about while we soaked up the vibrant air and watched geckos run along the walls. A wander back through a small square, then a bit of Spanish teev finally packing the evening up at about 1am.

The next two days followed along in a simple rhythm. Arising when the noise on the street kicked in through the windows; then having a feed, before strolling across to the bakery and getting a fix of treats. In case you haven’t been to Spain, la panaderias – the bakeries are both plentiful and cheap. Napolitana con chocolate is a family favourite, it’s a pastry filled with a Nutella-ish chocolate and usually will only smash an 80¢ hole in your pocket.

Back to the day’s meanderings, we strolled down the hill into the city and scoured various ‘Arabic’ shops, taking in the various items that luggage space will not allow safe passage back to Australia. Large metal lanterns, stained glass light fixtures and ceramic tiles were on the ‘look but don’t buy’ list.
Fortunately, hand fans, leather sandals and leather loafers were not on that list and they were purchased. Having larger-than-Spanish feet again caused me heartache (I also got stitched up in Ibiza), as I was told on several occasions ‘Sorry, not that size’, but luckily a couple of shop-keep’s had the right size and the golden slippers were mine.
As we had plenty of time to peruse the mean streets of Granada, we stumbled across a few Jim Dandy’s; one being a ‘Moroccan’ street, with tea vendors, clothes and fabric merchants. One massive bearded Arabic guy who heard our English, then asked where we were from and when Australia was the reply grabbed Zach in a bear hug and professed a love of ‘canguros’. Ahh Skippy, bless that little crime-fighting marsupial and all his furry little friends.
We stopped at Cafe Kasbah for a mid-arvo snack, the kids milkshaked it up, I got the house coffee (which was piled with whipped cream, not so awesome for a black coffee drinker, should have gone for the Turkish or Arabic ones on the list) and Jo had a unique tea named Sueños de la Alhambra – Dreams of the Alhambra, the waitress told us it was ‘sweet’, not big on describing words, but a fine brew, none the less.

Rock the Kasbah - Shariff, don't like it, but Jo does

On night two in Granada we went to a Flamenco show and had pizzas to boot. A ‘free’ entry show (just place a ‘tip/donation’ in the boxes provided) which had two ladies dancing, a dude strumming a guitar and one guy singing. It seems that the castanets and big frilly sleeves are only for the tourists and little kids as both were conspicuous in their absence.
Still, the girls clapped and danced up a storm, with intricate hand movements, fancy footwork and a bit of skirt action. Meanwhile the singer was at pains, literally, singing away. Again, my Spanish failed at the crucial stage, however it held up enough to pick out in Spanish ‘I want’, ‘I have’, ‘You have’, ‘I love you’; thus I concluded it was a bit of ‘boy meets girl, boy loves girl, boy loses girl, boy wants girl back’.
We left 10 bills to say ‘muchos gracias’ and had funds allowed we would have bombed a few more bucks on them.

After the Flamenco gig, and retreating to our apartment we were offered the best few hours of free entertainment. The bar across the road had a Spanish band on, who sang their little moustaches off (admittedly, I couldn’t see if they had moo-tangs, yet if they did, they sung them off). One song they played we have heard here in Spain several times, yet the title still eludes us – it is however the ‘One Tonne Rodeo, One Tonne Rodeoooo’ ad from Australia.
Good work Holden, way to knacker my cultural experience (and sorry Mum for that last sentence and use of ‘knacker’, but it’s true).

Oh, and men and kids rode on horses randomly through the streets, with the men drinking beer and riding.

Our final evening in Granada saw a feed of Kebabs; the kids watched Miley Cyrus on the TV doing Joan Jett covers and other deplorable pulp; and Jo and I tried on our new shoes. Zach capped the evening off by managing to land a whole roll of toilet paper in the throne and then push it through the S-bend trying to retrieve it with the scrubber.
Tears, a plastic bag and a lack of fortitude didn’t fix it the problem, thus ‘All-star-fix-it-parental-unit’ aka me, plunged a plastic-bagged mitt into the waters and fished out one very soggy roll. Needless to say the neighbours heard my disgust at having to correct that error.

The drive home shall follow shortly, but Granada…de nada.

¡Viva la Granada!

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