What Eating Your Body Weight In Crepes Looks Like.

I arrived in Granada filled with the same salty feeling you get when you jump into the ocean with your mouth open. I kicked myself in the shins and cursed at my shoes when I realized I had forgotten my phone charger, camera charger, and a proper change of clothes. As I walked up to the hotel I couldn't help but think of the situations in which I would need the three items I had left behind. Seeing as I knew as much about Granada as I do about women's rights, I had no idea what the city had to offer (oh, no he didn't just make a women's right joke!). The three things I left behind could have been mandatory to their daily lives. I quickly envisioned them having super-soaker fights, making collages, and communicating only by text message. As soon as I realized the ridiculousness of the thought, I found myself in another predicament.

I was staring at seven flights of stairs due to the hotel elevator being filled with sweaty, spanish speaking bodies wading in luggage up to their necks. However, these steps were different than other steps. The length of each step was as awkward as Charlie Roherty's armpits in a public venue. If I took the steps one at a time I could have potentially grown a mustache before I got to the top (I'm not sayin' I'm just sayin'). However, if I took two steps with each stride I could hear my corduroys warning me not to take them for granted because they would rip if they had to. In my opinion, walking up (or down) steps is suppose to be as constant as a heartbeat. However, I found myself switching pace, stride length, and general outlook on life with each floor I conquered.

Little did I know, when I reached the 7th floor, my lungs were throwing a party for me. They were standing there, holding balloons, and wearing those cone shaped birthday hats with the strings that uncomfortably strangle the bottom of your neck. They were pointing and laughing at me with a homemade sign hanging behind them that read, in a variety of sharpie colors, "You're out of shape, and you look stupid in that sweater." However, I could tell they didn't plan out the spacing of the poster before they wrote it because the word "sweater" was scrunched together at the end of the sign like it was half-caterpillar. As soon as I caught my breath, my lungs and the party disappeared, leaving me to put the caps back on the sharpie markers (bastards).

I got to the room, threw my lighter-than-usual bag down on the ground, and checked my compatibility with the hotel bed. We were made for each other. Now, the only thing I could think about was a nice long shower. Over the past month and a half I have narrowed my shower time down to a minute and a half. After a minute and a half my host mom comes rapping at my door like an angry neighbor with a noise complaint. She has created a lot of competition between my body parts because each shower I have to select three or four body parts to wash. You have no idea how hard it is to look my shin's in the eyes after denying them a proper scrub down.

After my shower, a few friends and I went out and explored the city. Granada was much bigger than Toledo, and seemed more like a college town with young people walking the streets at all hours of the night. After making our way around the city for a while, hunger took over. We started to walk the streets quickly, without words, popping are hunger possessed heads in and out of local restaurants. We struggled to find anything that agreed with our tummy's and our wallets (my stomach is more of a liberal while my wallet has conservative tendencies).

The next thing I knew we were sitting indian-style, excuse me, native american-style in one of the neatest places I've ever been. We must have used a portkey to get there because I can't recall the directions. The lights were dim and the mood was heavy as it was already making its way into the pours of our skin. However, we were still unsure of the restaurant as we reached for the menu (as neat as the ambience was, I didn't want to find myself forcing down a $9 artichoke egg-roll). Sure enough, the menu gave us a light slap on the face for doubting it and then slowly revealed all of itself like a hippo rising from the swampy water. We slapped our knees and chanted, "TEA, CREPES, SMOOTHIES, HOOKAH!" Then quickly pitched a tent and declared residency.

We filled up the waitresses notepad with all different types of crepes, teas, and smoothies and before I knew it there was a banana chocolate crepe and some kiwi tea sitting delicately in front of me. The crepe was the size of a chipotle burrito and the tea's natural scent filled the air around me. Instead of eating the crepe, I wanted to name it, and then ask it to prom. The whip cream sat on top of the crepe like a snow-capped mountain as the chocolate drizzle ran along its sides like bordering rivers. To avoid looks from the others I calmly closed my eyes, and cut into the crepe. It's softness alone made me feel like I was committing a million murders. My hand, now wavering and unsure of itself, slowly brought a bite of the crepe to my mouth. I had to convince myself that I was just helping it fit into its prom dress before I could take a bite. I opened my mouth wide and craned my neck back a little like snakes do before they are about to strike. I snapped, bit, and enjoyed the sweet taste of Granada crepes for the whole night. Talking with my mouth full has never been such an issue.

The next morning we went to La Alhambra which is an old muslim castle that was utilized back when Granada was the muslim capital in Spain. It is also the number one tourist attraction in Spain, and for good reason. La Alhambra was different than the other castles and cathedrals I had seen because of the massive gardens and fountains within the castle walls. As we toured, it was impossible to not find yourself astonished at the carvings on the walls and the architecture of the building. The construction of everything appeared to be incredibly tedious and monotonous, and I couldn't imagine the time it took to finish the smallest part. Lifetimes were thrown into this castle at a king's order, and the history was overwhelming. Here is a link below if you find yourself intrigued..

http://www.alhambra.org/eng/index.asp?secc=/inicio&popup=1


Also, I think it is important that we take a little time to give thanks to the great tour guides in the world. With out you, many of us would be fact-less and lonely, wandering in and out of castle rooms thinking it is less cool than it actually is. A good guide makes all the difference.

Arcades and Hand Grenades,
Coop

Córdoba!

Hey Lazy Bones!

This past weekend I took a trip to the south of Spain. After a 5 hour bus ride of vanilla-bathed oreo's, ice cold coca-cola's, and restless knees I found myself peering out at the shy city of Córdoba. As we drove, I could tell it was not revealing all of the beautiful things it had to offer. Córdoba was like one of those girls in middle school who hadn't realized how pretty she was yet. There were apartment complexes upon apartment complexes that lined the streets in an almost repulsive manner. I thought to myself, "This isn't what the south of Spain is suppose to look like." Then in a flash of brilliance, Córdoba let its hair down, threw its big-framed glasses in the trash (put in its contacts), and wore one of those pretty summer dresses that showed more leg than it ought to.

There were blooming flowers, orange trees, lemon trees, and the gorgeous old buildings that I had grown accustom to in Spain. I felt like an overbearing boyfriend as I hopped off the bus with my knees screaming, "I kneed more space!" After a moment of standing and absorbing the surroundings, my knees took to their usual form of boney and reliable.


A native guided us through the city dropping facts on the ground while still maintaing her stride. As it turned out, Córdoba was the home to many great philosophers. It was easy to recognize as I rested my hand on the knee of the bronzed version of muslim philosopher Averroes, and tied my shoes at the foot of jewish philosopher Maimonedes (I'm assuming they were more likable in person).


It was a real treat because Córdoba is also the home of one of the most well-known pieces of religious architecture in the world, The Mezquita Catedral de Córdoba. It was one of the largest, most magnificent places I have ever seen. It held more history than your local library. I'm pretty sure even its cobwebs were older than anything I know. It was an interesting piece of architecture because you could find out its roots by just looking around. There was arabic written on the walls surrounding me, hinting that it was a giant mosque during the Muslim reign in Spain. Then, as we toured more, the christianity within the building became extremely evident. There were large, inviting altars, replicas of Cardinals, Bishops, and Popes, and unbelievably high ceilings with painted angels prancing about atop of clouds. The tour guide spotted the confusion on our faces as we tried to put Christianity and Islamic religions together (It's not exactly peanut butter and jelly). She explained, that the Christians re-conquered Córdoba during the "reconquista" and built a Christian cathedral inside of the Great Mosque leaving the two, very opposing religions together within one building.


Both religions brought beauty to the building. The muslims contributed to the delightful wall art (The arabic language written is beauty in itself), and the vast forest of marble pillars. The christians provided spiritual paintings, finely carved wooden palettes, and a golden tabernacle the size of a car.



Córdoba opened my eyes to the religious history in Spain. The religious diversity became even more evident when we packed up our bags and headed towards Granada. However, I will get that info to you in the next post because there are some real decent stories and it deserves its own post!

(Always) Knocking At Your Door,
Coop