Mountains down to the Sea

The Mediterranean is only about 40 minutes away from Lanjarón, it appears, if you go directly. So, before moving more deeply into the mountains, if I wanted to take another last look at the sea, it seemed prudent to go today.

So I hopped on the 8:00 am bus, before breakfast. Ah, but the bus does not go directly; it first meanders over to another mountain town, Órgiva, before going South to the sea. Instead of taking the superhighway, we took little mountain roads, and the journey lasted an hour and 15 minutes. Here are a couple of views through the window of the bus:

This is the Rio Guadalfeo, big as a lake because it's dammed just below this point. 

We make "S" curves through the mountains, through pine trees.

One moment we're up in the piney mountains, and the next we're down in palm trees, as suddenly as that. 

The city of Motril is NOT on the tourist agenda. Across from the bus station, I see this remarkable travel shop — the only photo I took in town:

Naturally, I went inside to inquire. It costs 80 Euro to get from Bucharest to Motril by bus. I failed to ask how many days that would take. Nor did I ask about the price of a trip to Warsaw.

A quick trip in a local city bus and I was at the seashore. The first thing I notice is the bike path, running parallel to the shore, between the beach and the road. Very nice. Two bicyclists passed, and then no one at all. I wished I knew where to rent a bike!

And then.... the beach. It was gray. Gray sand. Sun hiding behind clouds. One couple walking two dogs.

And then they left and there was nobody. 

Nobody to the west.

Nobody to the east.

My plan had been to eat some good fish, fresh from the sea. I remembered the Huachinango a la Veracruzana I had in Tampico in 1977, one of the most memorable meals of my lifetime, there on the beach in a little shack of a restaurant, on the edge of an ugly city, oil slick on the sand. Alas, it was too early in the morning today. There were restaurants on this beach, but they would not open for another two hours. I picked up a few pebbles, said goodbye to the sea, promised Morocco I'd get there some day, and headed back to the mountains.

Back at the bus station, an elderly woman at least my age fretted around our bus, worrying if it was the right bus. You can see her here. She had auburn hair.

I mention her hair. On the bus coming down, there were seven passengers, every one of us at least age 70. Five of the seven had auburn hair. They were all women. I looked for gray roots. Nope. Plenty wrinkles, no gray hair. Is this a local genetic trait? Or do they all visit their hairdresser regularly?

The bus ride back up was as glorious as the ride down.

I like Lanjarón. There's a sweetness here. Maybe it's the water. Most of the tourists — and there are not many — appear to be elderly and Spanish. People come here for the baths, for the cure. This lovely sculpture in the center of town seems to capture it:

Tomorrow I'll be moving on to Pampaneira, higher up into the mountains. Lonely Planet suggests I may have to hike to the next town to check my e-mail, so there may be a break of a few days before the next blog post. Happy Halloween!

Las Alpujarras

Granada is near Spain’s Sierra Nevada mountains. I decided that I’m done with big cities and museums and monuments.  Now I just want to hole up in a little place of beauty, take long walks, nap in the afternoon, and disappear into a novel. It’s called a “vacation” and I can’t remember when I last had one of those, except maybe the annual three days on Rock Island.

This morning started with breakfast of chocolate caliente con churros in a little hole-in-the-wall place where the mail carrier had stopped in for a cup of coffee.

A sidewalk vendor selling fruits displayed these wonderful pomegranates! Ha ha! Now I'm seeing pomegranates everywhere!

On the way back to my hotel, I stopped to buy some soap from this man who makes it himself in his home. 

I got to the bus station just in time to catch a bus leaving in 4 minutes to Lanjarón, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. It’s only about half an hour south of Granada. As we neared the town, through the bus window I could see windmills spinning! Yes!

After settling into my hotel — a 1940s sort of place that’s been well maintained — I went to the restaurant next door for a bit of lunch. Here’s the Ensalada de la Casa:

Note the elegant GLASS bottle of water. This area is famous for its spring water that bubbles up out of the ground in several places around town. Sorry I didn’t take a photo of the seafood soup that followed, or of the woman who served it, ladeling it out with such pride and pleasure.

Drinking fountains abound here because of the springs. A map of Lanjarón shows no fewer than 15 fountains in this very small town!  Each one is accompanied by a charming quotation, artfully painted in blue on white tiles.  Several are quotes from Federico Garcia Lorca. Here are just a few:

I had time for just one quick walk this afternoon, and I was eager to see a bit of this part of Spain which is called "Las Alpujarras." I chose a walk up to the ruins of a 14th century castle. This one was built by Nazarian kings Yusuf I and Mohammad V to protect Granada from possible invasions from the Southeast. 

The walk begins alongside a little stream .... yep, fed by those springs. About half an hour along the wooded path, I catch a glimpse of my destination far ahead:

Below is the view of Lanjarón from near the top of the castle. It was windy up here, a great howling wind that had me clutching my camera tightly and clinging to the stone walls.

On the walk back to town along a different path, I encountered more olive trees. And a Siamese cat that kept me company for quite some time! He was un-photographable, refusing to pose nicely.

Tomorrow I get up early to catch a bus that will take me down to the sea. Just for the day. 

Alhambra!

Yes! I got in! Without having procured a ticket in advance! Here's what I had to do:

I got in a taxi at 6:30 am and by 6:45 I was standing in line, in the dark, waiting for the Alhambra ticket office to open at 8:00 am. There were about 8 people in line ahead of me. Conversations, such as they were, were very quiet .... in Spanish, German, French...

For the first 45 minutes we stood in darkness, the line behind me growing. It was cold; we were all wearing jackets. A couple from Australia came to stand right behind me, and they were my salvation! We chatted happily and the time flew. Around 7:30, the lights inside the building went on! 

Look! They've turned the lights on inside!

By 8:00, when the doors opened, it was already light outside and there were hundreds of people behind me in line.

There is no way that my little photographs can capture the grandeur of this place, the magnitude. From the outside, it doesn't look like much more than a big fort. Inside, it's a wonder of light and grace, of lacy detail carved into every inch of stone on the walls, and into wood on the ceilings. Here are some little corners:

This is looking up into a corner at the ceiling in one of the rooms.  That's not wallpaper — it's carved stone.

Look up at the ceilings! They're carved out of wood. And the ceiling of each room is different.

And then there's this ceiling!

And then... look down at the floors!  These tiny little tiles, one-of-a-kind.  Is this a radish?  A beet?
(Thanks to Betsy and Nina, who point out that this is a POMEGRANATE! Of course! The apple of Granada!)

Between rooms...   graceful outdoor patios

and gardens...

reflecting pools...

and little peeks at the outside world. 

Outside the Alhambra proper, I walked through the "Wine Gate," which inspired Claude Debussy to write his "Puerta del Vino."

The Puerta del Vino separated the Alhambra from the Medina — the old city, long ago demolished. What remains is the ruins of the city and the fortress.  It was fun to climb it!

Yes, I climbed to the top of that tower! Very slowly!

At the very top!

Here are the two young Australians, Martina and Ruben. We kept running into each other as the morning progressed.

At the very end of the Alhambra, a walk through the Generalife Gardens, graced by the all-important water.

Come here if you can. Bring a friend along. And get your ticket well in advance!