We all opted for a minimal breakfast after last night's feast and were out the door and on the road by 9:30 - quite civilized. And yes, it continues to rain which yet again caused abandonment of another planned hike. This is the easiest trekking adventure I've ever been on!
Our first plan B activity was a visit to Fortaleza de la Mota, a hilltop fortress with the whole history of Roman, Visagoth, Moorish, Christian, and even Napoleanic upheavals. Umbrellas unfurled, we marched to the top to study ruins and gaze in the distance for any hope of sunshine. This has been the coldest of our days so far and I missed a beat this morning by donning only one wool sweater. Thank my packing strategy that made me choose an insulated raincoat for the trip. Climbing to the top of the tower, we pretended we saw surrounding mountains (which have snow), checked the views around each wall, and concluded that yep, it's raining and foggy.
Until now, the landscape has been generously populated with olive trees (did you know that Spain is by far the world leader in the production of olive oil? I did not!). However, heading to Granada took us to a whole new level of orchard vistas.
Below is a view from the town of Moclin where, executing plan C, we took a brief wander around town (unfortunately it's castle was closed), and actually started seeing some patches of blue -- as in sky. Gazing down the trail up to said castle, the striated hills of olive groves seem to stretch endlessly to every horizon.
Rendezvousing back at the van a little earlier than most, I was getting pretty cold so I took advantage of remaining engine heat and literally hugged the front of it. I'm not proud. Not to worry, the van is remarkably clean from all the rain we've been driving through. As we zigged and zagged quickly down the road from Moclin, Antonio tried to lift our spirits by pointing out the trail we would have been hiking up into town, and shared that previous clients all complained about how steep it was. Worked for me, I'm lifted.
After a lunch stop (another three course meal), we drove to the heart of Grenada. There was a coriographed exit from the van in a temporary (perhaps illegal?) parking spot as we had to very quickly grab all our luggage and scoot up the street to our hotel. We had VERY clear instructions not to leave any bag unattended on the sidewalk. Interpret as you will.
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| View from our window in Granada |
We are back in the lap of luxury and have six pillows to choose from, AND a hairdryer that doesn't turn itself off after 9 seconds (that was in Cordoba).
Our event for tonight was a flamenco show at a very small theater. This was traditional flamenco, not a lavishly costumed and highly Hollywood/westernized production that an ignorant Alaskan might expect. There was a guitarist, a singer, and two dancers performing in various combinations. The guitar playing was excellent. The singing may have been if you are an officonado of traditional flamenco. To the untrained ear, the songs resemble (quite a lot) the call to prayer from a mineret, but not as lovely. Imagine a woman crying in pain, albeit rhythmically, during a difficult childbirth, then overlay that sound with vocal fry and a wah-wah pedal. The dancing is dramatic and I do appreciate the skill. I'm also quite sure seismometers within a 10K radius were triggered by the impacts of shoe to stage. And the clapping (by the performers) attained firecracker volume. I enjoyed it for both the skill and novelty, but Mark was far more sparing with his clapping. We were still full from lunch so did the wise thing and skipped dinner.
Off to bed now, and my own three pillows (and that little bag of crackers I stashed in my purse a couple of days ago).
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