Go Granada! Great, Grand ... grouse!

Greetings from Granada! (For real – I am one hundred percent in the city of Granada as we speak).

And I LOVE IT!!

To say I didn´t give Granada a fair go, in the beginning, is an understatement. After the gloriousness that was Seville, and the intrigues of Toledo, and the spector of Madrid, I think I was primed to hate it. I went to bed on the first night pissed off to even be here, and wondering just how long it would take me to run through the Alhambrah so I could leave. The gypsies were annoying me (a whole other story!), the food was crap, and I just couldn´t see what was so good about the place (sorry to those who recommended it. You will be vindicated!!).

Waking up on day two, the air had cleared a little. I was looking forward to spending my five minutes at the Alhambrah, and had good intentions of looking around the city a little more too. But then I was going to make tracks! I can´t fully explain what happened – what went right. It might have been the six full hours I spent at the Alhambrah, walking around palaces that date all the way back to the eighth century, enraptured by the history – cos that was pretty cool. It might have been the churros – best I´ve had in Spain so far. It might even have been the best bed/hotel room I´ve had in three weeks – spacious, and I no longer hit my head on the wall when I lean over to rummage through my suitcase (it happens. All the time). Whatever it was, I was converted! I signed up for two more nights in Granada, and if I wasn´t champing at the bit to get to BARCELONA, I would stay two more!

Perhaps it was the gypsy blessing!

I´ve had a lot to say about gypsies these past few days. And I´m sorry if I offend anyone – I don´t mean anything racist by it; it´s what they are. And it´s what they do that really gets my goat: manhandling tourists (yes, physically pushed and shoved) until we are persuaded to pay exhorbitant fees for twigs. That´s right, ten euro for a twig. Rosemary, thyme, I don´t know what it was and I don´t care; don´t touch me, I don´t want your twig!

But there is a back story here. Ten years ago, a young girl backpacking around Eurpoe, I spurned a gypsy twig and as a consequence, she spat on the ground and cursed my love and happiness for all time.

Bitch.

At the time I thought nothing of it, but coming out of the annus horribilus of 2010, when I saw the first gyspy woman and her twig in Granada, I was reminded to think twice. I´m not superstitious usually, but damn – something´s going wrong! So, paying two euro (still a lot considering it´s a souvenir I can´t bring through customs – but it´s my happiness at stake!) I was provided with my gypsy blessing to break the curse. I should be rich and married by lunch time, I reckon! Hooray!
It´s a crock though (shut up!) For that one blessing, I´ve since been cursed about fifteen bloody times because I can´t afford to by twigs off every crone in town! But I´m hanging on to that one blessing, the rest can get lost. Heathens! Lol.

But if one more of them grabs my arm … Jesus!

Other things I have done in Granada: strolled up to San Nicholas, the highest point, for which my thighs are still hurting – but awesome views! Then sat in the plaza there watching spontaneous flamenco dancing. I have spent countless hours looking for post offices that would seem to be like Narnia – it doesn´t matter how many directions I get, I can´t find them. They don´t exist. (Oops. That would imply that Narnia doesn´t exist. It does, it does!!) And I have been lost in some fabulous, quirky streets. I have eaten copious amounts of churros, shopped, and – best day EVER! - today I went skiing in the Sierra Nevada. Totally, awesomely, grouse!!! No superlatives will do the job, so I revert to the words of my ten year old self, because I was as excited as a ten year old on Christmas day. Best snow, best runs, best lack of injuries I have ever experienced! Wicked. Loved it. Amen! I have never been so tired, though, after just four hours of skiing. It´s a tough ask – Mt Buller has nothing on it! But I was laughing out loud the whole way down the slopes – especially when I got powdered in the face! Long time since I´ve done that (powdered, or laughed out loud!!)

Anway, tomorrow is another chapter – BARCELONA! Those who´ve known me long enough will realise what a dream come true this is! I am going to be in heaven, in Barcelona. Amigos Para Simepre, my friends. Hmm. That may just be a tortology.

So, on a ski-driven, Barcelona inspired high. This country just gets better and better. Love it!