THE SETTING: Granada, tired travelers, rooftop terrace – Albaycin, Massive Attack – Teardrop playing.
The three of us lie here in rainbow hammocks, reading, sleeping and writing. The breeze ripples through the sun-bleached cloths hanging from the ceiling and plays with the leaves of floating ferns and creeping vines. Ashtrays and atmosphere speak of high, hallucinogenic evenings. Candles and lanterns speak of romance and lust. And here we are, welcomed into Granada.
THE FACTS
After three hours of sleep, we took the 5am bus to Barcelona airport and took a sleepy flight to Granada. We had found a hostel on internet called the Flophouse, but no one seemed to have heard about it. Determined, we wound our way uphill through the Albaycin area. Finally we found James who has taken drugs one too many times. “Yeaaaah, so Yeaaah, let me check if we have rooms.” Well they did. Yay! They have two houses. We are in the one right next to Mirador St Nicolas, the view point from where you can look down onto the whole city and across to the Alhambra. The other house is further up the hill. As James says, “Yeaaaah, it’s the party house, it’s the stoney house, no the stonnery house. Yeaaah, not to say that this house can’t be the party house, yeaaaaah.” The guy is a bit cooked. Anyway, we picnicked at the viewpoint and then came to lounge here in the hammocks. The town has gone to sleep for siesta time. We are well rested and ready to tourist-it-up here.
