Taking photos one-handed
Granada
Synchroniously a friend of a friend of a friend – an english speaking german woman – was driving to Granada, so I hitched a lift. We took the inland route through naturally desolate dry, dusty plains of various brown and yellow tones;
and industrially desolate cities that literally pack and litter the coast line.
The atmosphere was set by the sweeping saharan winds of dust that danced and settled across the windscreen.
I arrived in Granada in the arabic quarter with its winding cobbled streets, too narrow for cars, too steep for bikes – a maze of colourful corridors packed with market stalls and wandering people. I found the teahouse Pervane owned by the Sufis that were to meet me. I spent a couple of nights with the Sufis – which was challenging since only one man spoke moderate english – but we managed. We spent each night at the teahouse with random individuals pulling up a stool; sometime for a few minutes, sometimes for a few hours.
Time has a different quality in Spain. Everything goes at a slower pace and at a different rhythm. While the days can be quiet and crawl along, the nights are warm and lively. Life is lived passionately and without pretense, which is at once shocking and liberating. From Granada I continued alone onto Sevilla, my last stop.
Sevilla
If Kolkata is an assault on the senses, Sevilla is a gentle caress. The sight of gothic architecture. The sound of flamenco guitar. The taste of olive oil and sangria. The smell of men and women dressing up for a night out. The touch of a warm breeze. On my first night I found an exsquisite vegetarian-friendly tapas place called T de Triana. It has little tables that back onto a stone-carved seat which runs along the bank of the canal; I got there just in time for sunset.
There’s something about the one long seat that makes sitting alone less conspicuous, like sitting at the bar. Indeed, sitting at the bar became my breakfast habit, not only is everything cheaper, but its a good opportunity to practise Spanish and pretend to be intrigued by other people’s conversations. Breakfast in Spain consists of fresh bread toasted and ladelled with olive oil, and then sprinkled with sugar ‘tostada’; and of course a strong black ‘cafe solo’.
Sevilla has a lot to offer the pedestrian tourist. I was most impressed by the Alcazar palace and gardens which has remnants of the moorish (muslim) architecture before it was partially erased by the christian monarchs that took control of the city and re-decorated the palace according to their own tastes.
The cathedral, one of the largest in the world, was equally impressive.
The Spanish Art Gallery was a little disappointing since 10 of the 17 rooms were closed for renovation, and the ones that remained open each had paintings of various men suffering sin, guilt, shame, self-loathing and repentence. On my last night I saw a powerful flamenco performance with singing, dancing and guitar.
Now this is a trinity that I get.
Tags: Spain
Jyai