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Spain just keeps getting better. I thought Madrid was funky? That's because we hadn't yet booked dorm beds at the Funky Hostel in Granada. We entered this place after getting lost for 10 minutes in the twisty streets, hauling our backpacks far too long uphill, and immediately we were rewarded: by caring, competent, English speaking reception; by a dorm room whose window looks down on the nifty tiled lobby; and by a magical roof top terrace complete with happy hour, friendly tourists and incredible views of the nearby cathedral, the white houses cascading down the hillside, and the far off mountains. After our 6 hour bus ride, it was so relaxing to recline with a vino tinto and watch the hoards of swallows taking over the sky.
The city itself has enchanted me. The old, cobbled streets are mostly pedestrian ways, full of people peddling art and tea and tobacco. Everywhere you turn there is some street art, ranging from scrawled graffiti to mural masterpieces by the mysterious El Nino de las Pinturas.
I haven't yet mentioned our original reason for visiting this town, the draw of Granada, once the star of the Muslim world: the Alhambra. I haven't brought it up because I hate to put it into words. But I know you're expecting miracles, so I'll at least tell you that I have encountered the most impressive work of architecture I think I'll ever see. I feel guilty in my luck that the Christian world once ransacked this beauty, allowing my entrance today. In each room of the palace, I had first to look at the grandeur, and then stare at each small detail (so many designs and poems cover every wall and archway) before I could even attempt to understand the complexity around me. And all this thanks to no proud Michelango or da Vinci, because (as the flourishing Arabic script reminds us countless times) "victory belongs only to Allah."
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