Still in Spain
Up at four in the god-damn morning today, so we could check out and haul our asses to the train station, where we stored some of our luggage in lockers utilizing a clever Jenga-inspired approach to stuffing things in other things. Ewan had to piss, but he decided for some reason not to wait until we were on the train, electing instead to run back to the hotel to do the deed. But eventually we all got on the train, and soon enough we were heading seemingly backwards down south, eating some of the delicious Guatemalan biscuits Carlos had brought.
It was pitch black outside, rain streaking the windows all the way down. The sky didn’t make itself noticeable until after 8 a.m., and of course it was pouring as we pulled into the station at Cordoba. We shouldered our way through the downpour to get on a bus that took us out to the Roman bridge, which we crossed to go see the cathedral. “No hats,” said the the guard as we entered.
“Ok, ” I said. “Can I have something to keep my head warm? Like a slightly stiff piece of cloth or something?” Apparently I couldn’t. But the cathedral was impressive, even more so when I got an audio guide to tell me about all of its history, being passed back and forth between Christianity and Islamic forces.
Afterward we had some “tortillas” at a place just outside the compound, though the chunks of potato were the farthest from the word “tortilla” I could think of. The pigeons liked it though.
After walking down some alleys, we chanced upon what appeared to be Roman ruins, which turned out to be home for many stray cats. Down at the riverbank, I noticed a bleating/clanging sound, and I noted to Chenbl and the others that there was a large herd of sheep charging across the opposite bank. It took a bit of convincing the others that this was actually happening, but eventually I got through, and we rushed over the bridge to observe the phenomenon.
The weather was nice and hot by the time we again crossed the Roman bridge. Tourists were everywhere. But we got on a bus back to the train station and another one to Granada. The ride was amazing, gorgeous, winding through ever more mountainous terrain with rolling fields of meticulously space olive trees and white-walled towns crowned with ancient castles and cathedrals as the sun cast longer shadows. Occasionally we would stop in a town to let someone off, the big bus maneuvering through tiny alleys with surprising alacrity. The sky was barely light by the time we pulled into the old grey bus station in Granada. A local bus ride later we were at our hotel, next to giant old city gate. It took a while, but we here now.
