Yesterday: The Albaycin winds uphill towards quaint corners and tilted cafes. Most of the porches hold potted cacti or crawling flowers. The parks, at seista time, are busy with kids too young for school, and fathers with strollers. On this particular afternoon, a sign reading "Marroqui" caught my eye and in my best North African Arabic, I treated Kaye to a late birthday meal of cous cous, pasteyla, les epinards, and shebekkia. Thus far, the epicenter of our diet has been Andalusian tropical fruits - the occasional loaf of bread is purchaced from certain bakers or young ladies on the street. But mostly, it is just naranjas. So, this was a lovely, and rare treat for our aching stomachs.
On this evening, Antonia began her conversation with translations - different animals, certain tenses, and so on. Lets just say she is a very, well, persistant lady.
Today: Eight o'clock a.m. Slowly rolling out of bed, we made the trek across one road to see La Alhambra. I am certain that this, more than anything, is the most breathtaking structure that I have seen and touched. The calligraphy is cold and the ceilings drip with passages from the Qur'an. The gardens surrounding the marble palace are pungent from pink roses and giant trees. It was like walking in the Redwoods, or the Sahara, so very divine, but so much more finite.
We walked downhill to our favourite corner of town, and were more wholly satisfied, after such emotional stimulation, with toasted bread and marmelade from our little cafe.
The sky here is so blue, so absolutely blue, and perfect, just like mangos and caqui for breakfast.
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