At the crossing of Atlantic ocean and Mediterranean sea, southernmost part of Spain, lies beautiful, eternal, dreamy Cadiz, reportedly the oldest continuous settlement in Europe.
I arrived on Monday evening on a train from Jerez , full of expectations for my Andalucian adventure…
Cadiz turned out to be everything I expected it to be and more.
Squares, white and yellow streets….
Shore that reminded me of malecon in Havana…
Flower market with the curious street vendors…
Beautiful sandy beach surrounded by two castles..
Empty boats that the low tide leaves on the shore and the high tide rocks slowly…
Breathtaking view from the old tower..
Walking, walking, walking, up and down the narrow streets
cold cerveza and a tapas plate in a corner bar on a hot afternoon
The family where I lived and the beautiful 3 year old granddaughter with huge blue eyes and golden hair, who got angry with me every time I could not undertand her wibliwobli spanish..
I spent my mornings wondering in the old streets of Cadiz..
I spent my mornings wondering in the old streets of Cadiz..
My afternoons on the beach, enjoying the lazy quietness of the day, lying on the golden sand and watching the tides slowly come up to my feet.
My evenings walking at the seaside, along the atlantic coast, empty gardens in the twighlight and the smell of azalias…
and danced away my nights at half dimmed salsa club on the mediterranian coast..
Part 2 - Sevilla
Upon arrival Sevilla felt like a burning hellhole. Too warm to breath at first, easier once you find a spot where you can sit under the water spray and don’t move..
Checked into a small hostel in the jewish quarter.
Loved the area, narrow , atmospheric streets with almost a surrealistic feel.
Came across the most famous flamenco place in town that was “fully booked” for tourists in front of me, but I managed to get a ticket after speaking my version of spanish with a cute andaluz at the entrance.
Unforgettable flamenco !
Half dimmed courtyard, where the dramatic cry of the flamenco singer broke the silence of the sticky, heavy air.
Ole!
Dinner on the street leading to the cathedral, full of tapas bars and bustling with the locals: students, artists and wonna-bes, chatting away the evening over a glass of wine..
Then the salsa bar, mojitos and and the crazy italian who spoke a mixture of spanish-italian with brazilian accent and a sprinkle of english as he was swining me to the night tunes.
Took the wrong turn on the way home and got lost, finally finding my way to the cathedral.
a couple kissing next to the cathedral, the rest of the people on the square quite drunk, or perhaps lost like me..
a stray cat that escorted me home..
Part 3 - Granada
Three and a half hour train ride later I arrive in Granada. When I first decided to move to Spain and was contemplating where to go, my basque friend said: “you have to go to Granada, that is your type of city”. and he was so right! well, where do I start? …
Walking up the cobblestoned streets of Albaicin, the arabic quarter of Granada, a kaleidoscope of white buildings, narrow streets, marrocan shops, carpets and rugs outside, teterias everywhere, offering tea, baklava and waterpipes with oriental flavors.. Lanterns hanging outside..
“come inside, taste some tea! “ - Shopkeepers stealing my smiles.
“green apple with melon please”…
it’s such an intoxicating feeling:
sitting in a teteria,
listening to arabic tunes,
taking in the flavor of the waterpipe,
slowly sinking into timelessness...
*
Lunch together in the café across the street every day.
“When does the break finish? “
” It finishes when you come back. “
- in that case: “Un medio tostada con atun y café con leche por favour.”
I think, still, what will haunt me most, is the site of alhambra at night, seen from the side of albaicin. I walked up the narrow, dark and deserted streets of albaicin for half an hour. most people have already finished dinner, it’s late even by spanish standards.. from some homes I can hear the sound of someone washing dinner dishes..from others sound of a lonely guitar.. and then, after one more turn, I come up to the vista point and to my right, on the hilltop on the opposite side across the river, is alhambra! I remember my spanish teacher’s tales about the ghosts of alhambra and at this moment I have no doubt that it’s all true.
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and of course, I can not leave without visiting sacromonte, el barrio gitano de Granada.
I follow one of the world’s most beautiful streets leading to gypsy caves, a street that looks more like a threater setting, with Alhambra topping the hilltop on the right side, plane trees and a promenade next to the river, tapas and wine bars on the other side. there is always enough time to have a glass of wine at the bar with the locals.
Seeing a flamenco show in a gypsy cave was something out of ordinary. So much flair, passion and drama on one dance floor.
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Last day I search for a shelter from the scorching sun of Granada and indulge in the absolute delight of arabic baths.. smells, sounds, the touch of water keep me grounded into my very own andalucian dream.
