Granada old town street



One of the locals?




Check out the girl in the black coat...is she Spanish?




Street Art

Cathedral from the Alambra

We went to Granada for a few days over New Year’s Eve, Noche Vieja, as it’s called here. Our hotel was on a one way street in the old town, a one-car wide cobbled street that twisted around the door of our hotel and linked the main roads on either side of a large church. Very picturesque, unless one is concerned about blocking traffic. When we arrived we practically threw ourselves and our luggage into the hotel and even though we were fast the traffic was faster. Nelson and the hotel desk clerk were anxious to get the car out of the way.

The “public parking close by” advertised on the hotel website was full, so the desk clerk directed Nelson to the next nearest lot and off he went. Then she demanded all our passports for check-in to the rooms. I don’t have all our passports, I said, Nelson is carrying his and John’s. As I was explaining this I saw our car pass the hotel door, fast, in reverse, and disappear out of sight around the corner. “Bueno. Your husband must present the passports as soon as he arrives. Now I must have your VISA card.” The car went by the window again, fast forward this time, and around the corner in the other direction. The car appeared for the third time as the desk clerk handed me the VISA card reader and asked for my PIN number. I could tell by the look on Nelson’s face that he needed a translator/navigator more than the desk clerk needed any more registration information. I punched in my PIN number as I was running out the door. She was left holding my VISA card and looking at John, who was looking at his parents driving away down a back alley in a foreign city.. Alison had already picked up her key and gone to her room. She’s done too much Cobra traveling to be concerned by a little parking problem. Ten minutes later were back at the hotel, where John had found his way to the TV lounge and the desk clerk had decided that we really did not need to go through any more formalities. She gave us our key and we collapsed into our room. Nelson was more than glad to trade the car for the tourist bus for the next three days.

It was a budget hotel, in the shopping district and on the edge of the pedestrianized old town. The lobby and breakfast areas were decorated with tiles and fountains and looked gratifyingly “Spanish”. The staff were very helpful and patient with my Spanish. The rooms were basic, the window blinds stuck, the balcony door fell off, TV was so old it didn’t have a remote and the beds were a long way from comfortable, but we weren’t there to hang out in the room, we were there to explore Granada. It was 5 p.m. and shops were reopening after the siesta. The flower boxes on the lamp posts were filled with pansies and poinsettias. The Christmas lights were glowing and there were fountains splashing in the squares and along the boulevards. People of all ages were out on the streets shopping, visiting, talking and showing off, so we went to join them.

Alison, looking as Spanish as possible, blended into the crowd and disappeared. We found the basic services: internet source, grocery store, beer and wine store. Fortunately, these were all in one place just a block from the hotel, and John was able to go to and fro on his own when he wanted to spend some quality time playing Runescape on line. We were very close to the city hall, and the square in front of the city hall was the focal point for celebrations while we were in town. On the evenings of December 30th and 31st there were vendors selling silly string, streamers, funny hats and noise makers on the street. We figured it was going to be a fun New Year’s Eve.

We are getting accustomed to the Spanish schedule of dining, so we did not even go out looking for supper on Noche Vieja (Dec 31) until about 9:30 in the evening. The streets that had been packed with people the night before and most of the day were deserted! Lots of the restaurants seemed to be closed, but we found one place that advertised pizza., which appealed to John, so we went in. We were immediately surrounded by noise, light, people and food. “Four? We only have the menu of the season. Upstairs” So upstairs we went, and realized that everybody in town must be in a restaurant just like this one having the menu of the season and celebrating. We had a fantastic traditional meal and unlimited local wine, beer or soft drinks to go with it. Sliced ham as a starter, variety of ham dishes on the main course, ham for dessert (well, actually not for dessert, but it could have been!). The servers were working hard, and having almost as much fun as the guests, who were all Spanish (as far as I could tell) except for us. It is worth waiting until 9:30 at night for an experience like that.

John has still not forgiven me for the fact that we were enjoying our last glasses of wine when the hour struck twelve, so we missed the fireworks and streamers outside. He was only somewhat mollified when we made it to the town square a few minutes after midnight and he scored a half-liter class of Fanta from one of the official drinks vendors. We got cava (Spanish champagne) from an entrepreneur who was walking about catering to the crowd from a shopping cart full of bottles. Alison and I hung around the square for a while, but the energy of the crowd soon shifted away from the public spaces to we headed back to the hotel to join Nelson and John. We were wakened between 6 and 8 in the morning by the sounds of people heading home from the clubs. Discos in Granada open at midnight and close in the early morning - and there was one next door to our hotel! We might have missed hearing the bells at midnight, but we certainly did not miss hearing the party.

Our New Year’s day was spent sleeping (wishing that those beds were a bit more comfortable) and exploring. Each street in the old town had a different style of Christmas lights, which helped us when we got lost. We watched the January 2nd celebration of the taking of Granada by the Christians from the Moors. I expected lots of pomp and ceremony and military music. We got that, through the gaps in the crowd, but what really impressed us was the noise and flag waving of the protesters who surrounded the crowd that surrounded the town hall. It seemed wild to me, but the riot police on every corner did not look concerned.

We made our way back to Puerto de Mazarron along the Mediterranean coast, where the settlements along the road are a narrow strip of green between the sea and the desert. The sun was shining and it was warm, we stopped for lunch at a beach side restaurant and interrupted the waiter in the middle of a big game of computer solitaire. I suspect we were the only customers of the day -- it is the off season!