The tapas origin story goes something like this: there were too many flies in [famous bar] in [amazing coincidence - city you happen to be in right now] and they were always getting into the customers' wine glasses, so [famous bar owner] decided it would be a good idea to cover them with small plates. And why not top these plates with a free sample of something delicious, to show off the chef's skill? (Alternately, something salty to increase thirst.)
In many places tapas are merely inexpensive rather than free, but the tradition continues in Granada. Order a drink by itself most anywhere, and you will be served something to eat with it. Carried to its logical extension, one could have a whole meal without ever ordering any food, provided you had enough to drink, and you didn't mind taking your chances. Challenge accepted! What follows derives from the notes I hastily assembled as the night progressed and sobriety decreased:
- I think this was the fish one. In... a sauce. Tomato? Or is this a flashback to the fish of regret? Close to the tourist center, on a street with "Ruta de las Tapas" signage.
- Patatas bravas y carne (fries and steak tips). I remember this one. The most American of Spanish dishes. Clearly visible from #1, which proved less awkward than I'd feared.
- Potatoes? Pork rinds? Not really sure. In some sort of gravy. And something else. There was definitely a second part to this dish. Was it the cheese? Must have been because there's no cheese in this list otherwise. Really nice cheese oil bread herb something. The menu looked suspiciously like #1's - not that I was actually ordering from it - so I think many of this street's bars were owned by the same company.
- Potato sticks and... Ribs? Very small ribs. From what, a squirrel? Best not to think about it. On that note, let's head for the modern city, retracing my steps from the previous night's cab ride.
- Pollo curry and olives served by a lovely tattooed butch woman. This bar didn't look too appealing from the outside, but it was certain to have a bathroom, which was the only thing that mattered to me at the time I entered. This was also the only indoor venue on the list.
- Crab potato salad with almonds. Served riverside. But not the river near my hostel. A different one, since I had walked a good deal at this point.
With that I was full, as well as pretty certain I didn't need any more to drink, so I headed bedward. On the way I passed a bar/bakery which I had read about: a popular stop for students after drinking due to the excellent churros which come in massive quantities. In a last-ditch effort at preserving a shred of dignity, I won't tell you how many churros I had.
Good night.
You know I love exploring, choosing random directions to wander in, and heading off the beaten path. But I had tourist days too: inevitable when you want to see the same thing everyone else does. My trip to the Alhambra was one of these, and naturally best experienced by photo gallery.
This was the most thoroughly planned part of my trip. I had read that you need to get tickets weeks in advance - very true! A few weeks before traveling I tried to get a straight Alhambra ticket that at least overlapped the time I expected to be in Granada, and I was unable. The only options remaining were as a combo ticket: either as part of a tour group (ugh, no!) or the Bono Turístico, which also works for local transit. I figured I'd need that anyway, so I made a purchase and got my half-hour window for the Nasrid Palace along with a stern warning about being late. The whole of my trip had to pivot around this point.
No point in wasting time: I'm up before dawn! (Not that difficult to do, since Spain is 2 hours ahead of the sun during daylight savings. I saw many sunrises, actually.) The sun is low and the grounds are mostly empty when I enter the Generalife Gardens. Hedgerows, trees, flowers, fountains, canals, waterfalls, and lovely views of the city, across to Sacromonte, the Albayzín, and beyond. Turn left to view the might of the Alhambra, our hilltop neighbor. The buildings of the Generalife are impressive too, intricately ornamented with Islamic calligraphy, though my understanding is that they're but a hint at the wonders to come.
On to wonder, then! The Alhambra walls dominate the hill, and in turn the whole city. On entering, there's a sign indicating that it's still a 15 minute walk or so to the Nasrid Palace, so you'd better have timed this correctly. I was very early, as planned, so I enjoyed the central area of the Alhambra. Judging by the ruins, there must once have been a whole city's worth of buildings up there. "Don't walk on this" said the sign. I didn't. Eventually I made my way to the Alcazaba (fortress) - the highest and most imposing part. Up a tower, see some amazing views, back down, rinse, repeat. It was amazing to me, but I am at a loss as to how to make sightseeing interesting to you, dear reader. Perhaps it's like the Matrix, where you have to see for yourself?
At last the appointed hour arrived. I was vaguely on time so they ushered me into the Nasrid Palace. One of the most amazing buildings I'll probably ever see, but again I have nothing terribly interesting to say about it! The only eventful thing to happen was that my phone battery died after taking so many pictures.
Finally after a hard day's work of standing around looking at things, my feet were exhausted. I rested a bit at the hotel, then went out in search of lunch. I hadn't gotten my fill of the Albayzín, so I climbed the hill in search of hidden viewpoints and cafes. I had more success with the latter: simple home cooking by a grandma, served by her daughter, on the sidewalk by a quietly bustling square. White wine and shade. Bliss. No English was spoken here, but a halting conversation with the representative of the youngest generation eventually conveyed that the bathroom had no light. Somehow this only added to the charm.
Not much else happened that day, and I'll leave the night to another post.
After my excellent bike tour it was time for an equally excellent nap. My schedule was open for the rest of the day, so I took the opportunity to arrange the next travel leg. Having learned a thing or two from my ticket purchasing experience in Barcelona, I arrived at the station prepared: exactly this train at this time going from here to there, not the more obvious option of the faster AND cheaper train with arrival times incompatible with my Ronda and Gibraltar plans. My Spanish must have been improving, because I managed to talk the sales-guy out of giving me the simpler ticket.
Back to the hostel area for the usual tapas. Ridiculous portions of meat. I really think these are meant to be shared. A little slower than I'd hoped but I know you don't rush these things. So I'm a little late to the Fútbol game: Rayo Vallecano (Madrid, but not the good team from Madrid. US equivalent = NY Mets?) at Granada CF. Neither are particularly good teams, and it did not end up being a particularly good game. Rayo scored the only goal, and that was in the overtime shootouts. Oh well. Still, the seats were excellent, and the quality of this matchup was probably instrumental in making it possible to get those tickets at the last minute. And I still had a fun time. I was surprised to find no beer available for sale in the stadium - wonder what the story is there? That seems to be such a big part of sporting events elsewhere.
The taxi rides to and from the stadium brought me through (modern) parts of the city I hadn't seen yet. Beautiful public squares full of life. Fountains, rivers, and people enjoying the evening. Worth a bit of exploration later!
One of the reasons I learned to ride a bike last year is so I'd be able to do tours when I travel. I'd heard wonderful stories of friends' experiences and realized that it's the sort of thing I'd really enjoy - if only I had the ability. I wasn't going to let this trip go by without taking the opportunity.
Granada's awfully hilly. That's why it became important: a river junction surrounded by good sites for fortifications. They worked well too: this was the last kingdom of Al-Andalus to fall to the Reconquista, in 1492. More relevant to this story is that it's not a great place to ride a conventional bike. But what about one with a boost? Play Granada offers electric bike tours, so I jumped on the opportunity to try one! A little hard to get used to at first, pedaling as normal but with a push. Hold on! The hills still required plenty of effort and gear shifting but the boost made a big difference.
We started by going up into the Sacromonte neighborhood - an area I expect I wouldn't have seen otherwise. This is where the Roma* settled in caves. Many "houses" were simply façades on cave openings, and many of these now host Flamenco shows. The road up was so steep and narrow in parts that half of us (raises hand) had to walk our bikes for parts anyway. Amazing views of the Alhambra from here too. I hadn't realized it was so close. Maybe I would just walk there tomorrow? (Spoiler: nope)
On to the Albayzín, where I got a completely different impression. City walls and portals, little squares lined with bars/cafes/restaurants. I'll certainly come back here! This led to the Mirador (viewpoint) San Nicolás, probably the best site for Alhambra views, or at least the best known. This is the site of the only picture of me from the whole trip, taken by our excellent tour guide Joaquín. (Due to the high-intensity way I travel, I'm basically a scruffy, poorly dressed sweatmonster the whole time, not very photogenic. On this tour I'm dressed in athletic gear appropriate for the occasion.)
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| Your narrator |
From the hilltop the only way down is... down. Barreling down a steep cobblestoned path in a foreign city (sometimes with cars and scooters) on a bike whose brakes I have only just met may be exciting, but it's frightening too. (Spoiler: I survived) I made note of a kebab place on our travels and returned there posthaste. Now you may be scolding me for not eating local-appropriate food, but remember the history of the Albayzín! Moorish cuisine, sucka. Also, it was AMAZING.
* My choice of term. Spain clearly never got the We Don't Call Them Gypsies Anymore memo.
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"Everyone in Spain travels by bus", the guidebooks say, because they're usually a good deal cheaper, and sometimes they're actually faster. But they're certainly not as enjoyable. Seats are cramped and the frequent high speed roundabouts are hard on the stomach. Unfortunately, there's not really a good train from Córdoba to Granada. They do appear to be building AVE tracks to fix that. Yay!
Aside: we saw snow up in the mountains from this ride!
My hostel is close to the main tourist nexus of Granada, Plaza Nueva, for easy access to the good stuff. And boy is it hopping! Tour buses, street Flamenco, artisans, Policía, bars and restaurants, and confused tourists like me. Eventually I manage to find the right kiosk to pick up my Bono Turístico (for bus rides and Alhambra admission, pre-ordering an absolute must).
Ok. Great. Now the hostel.
This is an adventure in itself. I'm staying in the Albayzín*, the old fortified Muslim hill town, one of the main things I'm here to see. From what I've read, this is about the only area in Andalucía that retained its Moorish character, and there are plenty of new arrivals from Morocco, Tunisia, and the like, and Arabic is often heard. It's a level up in difficulty from the Barri Gòtic even before you consider that it's mainly steep hills. Oh and this particular section is essentially a bazaar. Spices for sale! Scarves, rugs, bags! Your Name in Arabic, 1 Euro! Henna! Tea houses (euphemism for hookah/shisha room)! The tourist maps are inadequate, so it's a good thing it's only a few blocks. Hostel This Way signs at strategic points saved me, but I'm realizing I have this to look forward to every time I go home.
After settling in, I roam the area slightly away from Plaza Nueva in a successful search of the legendary FREE tapas. I'm hungry, so I order some food I pay for too. Also more wine. Apparently in Spain I drink wine instead of beer. The options are generally a lot better. I've been really enjoying fino, a dry white sherry (Jerez) which is quite different from the sweet sherry stereotype. I'll have to look for Tio Pepe or Manzanilla when I get home.
A short walk along the lovely bank of the river Darro (not to be confused with the Douro) and I'm ready for bed.
* often spelled Albaicín: not clear what the significance there is.
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- Audio: All About That Bass
- Video: What's Opera, Doc?
- Location: 50 km Southeast of Córdoba
- Destination: Granada
- Transportation: ALSA long-distance bus
- Condition: Regretting that fish
Córdoba was a nice change of pace from Barcelona. Once the capital of the great Caliphate of Al-Andalus, it's a moderate-sized city today. There's much less for a visitor to understand, so I think this would make a good choice for a first visit to Spain.
This doesn't save us from all of our foolish decisions, however. Like how I decided my hotel wasn't all that far of a walk from the train station. Oh, it's a flat less-than-mile through an attractive park and downtown, but with heavy bags and humidity, my comfort gauge dropped considerably from the AVE bliss I started the day with. At least I was in an actual hotel room this time, with my own shower! Air Conditioning! In-room Wi-Fi! (It would turn out to be the only night of 22 to feature this trifecta [edit: until the airline strike].) No matter that the room was tiny: I appreciate that Single Occupancy is even an option.
This schlep coincided with the siesta, so I found myself plowing through a mass of uniformed schoolchildren and their parents. Fun that I got to see that aspect of the culture, though. By the time I checked in and took a mandatory shower, I was concerned that almuerzo would be over. Unfounded: lots of options in the Plaza de las Tendillas, my center-city address. I drank a gazpacho (served in glasses here) and ate a fried ham roll stuffed with ham. Different foods and no Catalan to be seen anywhere. Maybe there's something to this idea that they're different countries.
Tourism in Córdoba is dominated by the Mezquita (mosque), also known as the Cathedral, which was constructed in the center of the mosque. Subtle, guys. Too late to really do it justice, I decided to save it for the morning. What to do until then? The Royal Andalusian Equestrian Demonstration, perhaps? The brochure said 21:00, a few hours away. How about a walk in the old city, then? That's my sort of thing. Like a smaller Barri Gòtic, I had a lovely time wandering and attempting night photos. I ended my stroll at the stables where they said "ocho" and some other things I didn't catch. When they saw me counting out 8 euros, they directed me to a brochure much like my own but with the time at 20:00. Oh. Ocho PM. Dammit, I had outdated info (and I thought they used the 24-hour clock exclusively)! Uh, dinner? A happier time, with more tapas of course!
I get up earlyish and head to old town. The Mezquita is huge, a little absurd, and beautiful. Red-white arches throughout. There's a window in the floor to an archeological site: the mosque was itself built over an earlier Visigoth church. I guess turnabout is fair play? Successive caliphs added wings to the mosque, attempting to match the existing style with varying degrees of success. You do have to look for these differences, however: rectangle + rectangle = rectangle. Try extending a church by planting more churches next to it, and see how silly that looks. There's lots of (Christian) religious art inside, including a nice collection of illuminated texts.
My tour complete, it's time for a snack. I acquire the customary elevensies bocadillo and perch myself by the river Quadalquivir. Here (upstream of Sevilla) it's a peaceful stream, but the heights of the bridge and banks imply it can get much stronger. Or maybe it did in the past. The bridge is low but imposing, dating from Roman times, and provides a fine view back to the Mezquita and the city. A tower at the far side houses the Museum of Al-Andalus Life. It fascinates me that an area of Western Europe was under Muslim control for centuries, and much of this trip is focused on exploring that era. Of course I had to check this out. I had read that it provides a useful counterpoint to what the Church has to say at the Mezquita. Well. If you believe the recordings at the statues and displays, Al-Andalus was basically the greatest period of human history ever, until the Christians came and ruined everything. That may be overstating things a bit. But there were certainly important advances from this era, and I enjoyed seeing things like medical instruments (yikes!), astronomy, and irrigation. (Foreshadowing: I seem to have a thing for plumbing. Yes I can tell you're excited.) Big models of the Mezquita (pre-Cathedral of course) and Granada's Alhambra, plus river and city views from the top of the tower, and that adds up to a nice little museum. A synecdoche*
of Córdoba, really.
My time's up but for lunch. I choose poorly: an enormous bland fish filet in (tomato?) sauce. I can barely finish half. Oh well. Not every meal can be amazepants. (Most are!) This time I make the wise decision to hail a taxi to the bus station. It's a fun ride in a nimble little car through tiny streets. ¡Adiós, Córdoba!
* I'd like to thank my book club for this vocabulary lesson
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