Caves and Flamenco

When we fleshed out the plan for this trip, today was marked for a hike in the area of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Last night, when we followed our host Rafa, down the narrow streets winding up and up and up the hill of Albaicin, finally pulled into the safety of the parking garage, we vowed not to move again until we absolutely had to. That meant changing up the order of things just a little and pushing the hiking back a few days to when we would be travelling out of Granada towards Sevilla. It also meant an extra day for exploring this curious little end of the world.

Rafa, super-excited to have us staying at his place, spouted off a whole list of things that we just HAD to do while in Granada, and I think he left us enough to fill an entire week, so map in hand, we headed out in search of his must-do items in the Albaicin. We started close by, first locating Plaza Larga, the closest square, and stopping for our morning coffee. Here, we tried molletes for the first time - fresh-grated tomato smeared on a toasted roll, served with olive oil and salt. Mario believes that he has found his new favorite breakfast!

Onwards, we climbed higher and higher in the town, eventually emerging from the maze in front of the Monasterio de San Miguel, situated on the very top of the hill. So high, in fact, that its roof was littered with satellite towers! The plaza out front offered fantastic views of the valley, Granada and the Alhambra, but other than that, it was basically a pitstop for campervans and boho vagrants, a common sight in this town.

Back down the hill, we wound our way around the side, into the valley of the Rio Darro, to the neighborhood of Sacromonte, the birthplace of flamenco. Here, in the small hillside caves over looking the Alhambra, gypsy families sang and danced their emotions, creating the moving and passionate art. Here, we were able to visit some of these caves, restored to how they looked long ago. Elsewhere up the hill, other caves are still home to families living in Granada, while still others offer nightly shows of flamenco to small, intimate audiences.

Through all of this exploration, with less-than-spectacular maps with which to guide our way, we inevitably made a few wrong turns. At one point of the climb up to San Miguel, we made a turn down what we thought was an alley, and found ourselves in a private square, face-to-face with a sandy brown dog that seemed to shake his head at us. From this point on, the sandy brown dog became our sort-of spirit guide, "showing" up whenever we made a bad decision or a wrong turn, shaking his head at us. Eventually, he morphed to have the sound effect of the stupid dog in the classic Nintendo game "Duck Hunt", if that rings a bell.

After a rather disappointing lunch of bits and bites and nearby restaurant(where the sandy dog should have suggested otherwise), we spent the afternoon enjoying the sun from the balcony of our comfortable apartment, Mario napping in the loft bed, while I took in the sights and sounds of the outside garden.

This evening, we made a reservation nearby to watch a local flamenco show, and, as it happened, it was the last night of some travelling performers, so the show was extra emotional. The floor-shaking stomps of the dancers' feet were interspersed with the claps of the singers, whose lilting songs mixed perfectly with the harmonies of the violin and Spanish guitar. It was powerful and sad, exciting and angry, and every emotion in between. It was amazing, and a need-to-see to appreciate kind of experience. This was not the type of thing that could be conveyed through photos, or even video. What can I say? It left me completely speechless.