Early rising is never easily done in a 6 person hostel room. Nonetheless, with the help of phone flashlights and pre-laid out clothing, Greg and I were able to flee the scene without a hitch. Our stay at Yes! Lisbon had not been a luxurious one, but as far as hostels come, this truly was a Portuguese gem! The staff went above and beyond, the facility itself was spotless with all the amenities one could need, and it was in an ideal location. 
Greg and I had an early flight through TAP airlines to Seville, where we were going to pick up our rental car to drive to Granada. I was not too stoked about the propeller plane, but it actually turned out to be smoother and quieter than most flights. Greg had major anxiety about driving this rental car the evening prior… well let’s be real, he had anxiety about it since the moment he booked it. I assured him it would be just like driving at home. 
We were able to pretty seamlessly get ourselves to our rental car, and before we knew it, and whether Greg felt comfortable with it or not, we were hitting the Andalucian roads full speed ahead. To my relief and assumption, Greg discovered that driving in a European country is not all too disconcerting once you’re out on the open road. Signs are pretty universal, especially signage featuring graphics. I’ll insert some of Greg’s own commentary he relayed in an e-mail to our family post the experience: “Driving in Spain was super easy – there were lots of gas stations for potty breaks. Hans and I stopped at a few Shell stations to support the family brand (and by family brand I mean both Shell and constant potty breaks).” For those who may not know, my dad co-owns a Shell station… and our family has a pea sized bladder reputation to uphold.

  
Once in Granada, a very small, bohemian town with ample backstreets clad with dread loc haired gypsies, we couldn’t really locate our hotel. The GPS told us that we had arrived, but we saw nothing resembling a hotel. Greg had to navigate cobble stone back streets that could have easily been pedestrian only alleyways. I felt like we were in a video game or Alice in Wonderland, as the streets became increasingly more narrow with more and more obstacles coming our way. Greg was abnormally calm, while I may have drawn blood from clenching my leg so hard. I leaned in, ducked, and sucked in, as if that might have made the car shrink or narrow itself. Before I could roll my window down to turn in the side view mirrors, I heard an abrasive, “scraaaape!” I bit my nails rapidly, waiting for Greg to have a massive eruption of anxious anger, but rather he calmly pulled over onto the first turn-off we had seen in the town and hunted for the map. Lost, worried about the car rental mirrors, and squirming with the pain of a full pea sized bladder, we sat in tourist dismay. Then, right when I was about to call our hotel for reinforcement, I noticed a tiny yellow sign that was on the back of the buildings to our right. “Wait, what’s the name of our hotel?” I asked myself, regaining hope. And surely enough, by back alley accidental luck, we located our hotel which was tucked away on a stone stepped hill that opens up to a pedestrian only walkway, which explained why we hadn’t seen it or been able to access it when we had first entered from the main drag. 

    
The hotel was very interesting, with levels of balconies creating a square around an open courtyard in the middle. Our room was huge, and we both reveled in the pleasure of splaying our suitcases and removing our items without needing a lock. 

  
We were hungry and eager to explore this new city that drastically contrasted with our first destination, so we set out on foot in the 100 degree afternoon heat. Fortunately, nearly all the Granada street shops and cafes had misters hanging from their awnings to keep tourists sane and awake. We stopped at the first tapas cafe that seemed somewhat lively. It was siesta time, so the streets were rather quiet, but we did notice an inordinate amount of young people. We figured that there may have been a university nearby. I had read about how in Granada, tapas places loyally believe in providing patrons with a tapas on the house whenever you ordered a drink. There are many stories or explanations for the origin of tapas, but I think the one that makes most sense is that King Alfonso X of Castile was feeling ill and his doctor instructed him to drink some wine and eat small amounts of food with the wine. Once the king heeded the doctor’s advice, his health improved, and he then decreed that all of Spain should consume little bites of food when drinking. He especially wanted this for his soldiers, as they would feel sick from drinking wine without eating, thus impairing their performance on the battlefield. Regardless of the true origin, tapas is one of my favorite aspects of the Spanish culture, and I was excited to indulge in my first tapas gratis! 

   
Greg and I then decided to go on a mini self guided tapas and vino tour through the charming streets of Granada. We wandered and photographed and ate and drank, does life get much better than that? One of my favorite tapas I tried, that became kind of my Spanish go-to, was anchovies in vinegar on lettuce, called boquerones. I also savored the combination of authentic Manchego cheese with a dry vino blanco. 

  
I suppose it’s now time to explain a bit more about Granada and why we chose it as a destination within Andalucia. Granada was the last Moorish or Arab city in Spain to be conquered during the reconquest, or Reconquista. This was possible because of Granada’s claim to fame, The Alhambra. The Alhambra was a fortressed city built atop a huge hill in the middle of the city of Granada for sultans and the elite. It’s the first thing you see when you enter Granada, and it’s a site that couldn’t possibly ever fade from your memory. 

    
Greg and I learned from the beautiful girl at reception that the best place to take in the unique beauty of The Alhambra and the city was this lookout point called Mirador San Nicolas. Needing to walk off our tapas, we began the ascension up to San Nicolas, which took us through zig zagging stone streets sandwiched between white walls of beautifully classic European flats and restaurants. It was a steep climb, but when we made it to the top, it was well worth it. The spot was crowded, filled with kids, families, tourists, locals, street vendors, and musicians. Everyone talking, but not looking at each other, because who could when in front of you is a landscape and structure one could only conjure up in a medieval fantasy. We took countless photos before tromping back down to our hotel. We shared a hearty laugh over Greg’s backpack shaped sweat stain he acquired due to the San Nicolas hike, and then called it another perfect Spanish night.