I’m in Marrakech, sitting in my underwear in my dorm room, its 43 degrees outside and I’m hot and sweaty. I’m trying to catch up on producing content that will one day leave me with a felling of nostalgia. I’m up to Granada and I miss this place terribly.
I never planned on going to Granada, but some friends I met along the way were heading that way and that’s all I need as a recommendation. I’m the type of person who will stick their fingers in their ears and yell repeatedly at the sight of a movie trailer from an upcoming movie I want to see. I don’t like spoilers, I like experiencing things fresh, when is Hollywood going to learn how to make you interested in a movie without giving the whole fucking plot away. Thankfully, Granada was fresh to me and a very fun week was spent there.
Home to free Tapas with drinks, which makes you feel like you are getting a better deal than you probably are, the south of Spain is a nice place to hang out. It was hot when I was there but meant lots of excuses to grab a beer and take a break from the camera.
A very pretty city with lots to see and photograph. Getting lost in the maze of the white washed streets of Sacromonte, where the level of perfection is a little unbelievable, being able to wander empty streets alone with your thoughts was very satisfying. I remember stumbling across an opening to a small square. I was led there by the sounds of a classical guitar being played. The square opened up and a very good-looking Spaniard, with beautiful leather boots, long hair that slightly covered his face was playing the guitar whilst his mouth navigated the harmonica strapped to his neck. He played with such emotion, sitting two or three metres to his left on a park bench a woman was sobbing silent tears the music was so moving. I sat and listened, when he finished he put his head in his hands and the two sat and cried together, but separately. Peaceful silence filled the absence of his playing, with only the occasional twitter of a bird, and I continued on my way through the maze in complete awe of what I just saw.
From exploring the other side of Sacromento where the people live off the land and live in caves just burrowed into the side of the hill, to wandering along the river where the cave hippies smoke their pot and have their once yearly washes. A very cool place to hang out with a relaxed atmosphere. The language barrier was fun here too, trying to order an espresso coffee and ending up with a beer and tapas made me laugh. Maybe they just thought they knew what was best for me.
That’s enough, I’m sweating places I didn’t know it was possible to sweat. Until next time, Granada.
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