Some shots from the Sierra Nevada, specifically by request.


A picture of the two of us, for Dad.



This one´s for you Mateusz.

We´ve uploaded a few photos from the Alhambra as eye candy for your viewing pleasure. The moors (moops?) in medieval Granada really knew how to combine their building architecture with gardens, reflecting pools,... just take a look and you´ll understand:






Monika looking hot in front of a garden view.



A shot of the two of us. I´m doing a weird leaning over thing, but Monika looks hot again so I couldn´t resist.

When I visited Egypt, one of the first things I needed to learn in Arabic was "No, thank you" (La, Shukran). "No, sorry" also comes in handy depending on the situation.

The shopkeepers in Spain are not quite as assertive as those in Egypt, but we´ve still needed to figure out how to deal with beggars and other people on the street approaching us.

Yesterday morning I didn´t have it quite figured out yet.

A small older Spanish lady grabbed me by the hand as I loitered outside the cathedral. She started babbling quite quickly and shoved a sprig of rosemary into my grasp. I began protesting, but not being armed with the right phrase yet, she managed to dismiss what I was trying to say.

She tried to trace her fingers over my palms. I didn´t let her, but she somehow managed to figure out my fortune anyway. She spoke really fast, but I managed to pick up "vida larga" and "dos bambinos". Once she got to the asking for money part, I continued to say "No" as before, and finally thought of adding "No habla espaniol".

Disgusted by my reluctance to give her 2 Euro, she snatched back her rosemary and let me on my way.

A few photos from Granada:


Monika passing a tiled wall along the way to her conference at the University.



Orange trees grow everywhere here. It´s quite amazing.



They even have a courtyard with orange trees growing inside this Ministry of Defence building (on the job perk, I guess... just a little envious).

With all these orange trees growing everywhere, of course, Monika and I decided to be suckers and buy our oranges at the supermarket.



The Alhambra at night.

"¿Ola, abla ingles?"

These are the first three words of Spanish I´ve learned. The ticket agent at the Iberia Airlines desk at Madrid´s nice new Terminal 4 thankfully responded with "yes, can I help you?"

We had arrived in Madrid with 7 hours before our connection to Granada, and I was trying to see if we could maybe get on an earlier flight. After about 4 hours of sleep out of the last 48, I wasn´t quite ready to attempt this sort of conversation in Spanish.

The attendant´s English was very good, and things were going very smoothly until she said something that made no sense: "You are not flying today."

"Sorry?" I said, thinking the communication must have broken down.

"Your flight is not today. It is June second today, your flight was May second." My heart sank as she traced her pen around the date printed on my sheet. I quickly leafed through to Monika´s... same thing.

I still don´t know how it happened. Monika and I booked our flights separately (though one just after the other) a couple months ago. Either we both selected the wrong date or there was a glitch with the website, but somehow we ended up with tickets for a plane we had no intention of taking, and no tickets for the one we had.

After finding out that last minute tickets for that afternoon´s flight would cost us a cool 325 Euro each, we decided to figure something else out. I went up to an internet booth they had set up in the terminal. I placed some change in the slot.

Nothing. The money just came out the coin return. The screen remained blank.

I flagged down an airport information employee. She let me know the booth was brand new and not hooked up yet. She thought the ones down on the main floor worked, though.

After 15 minutes on the internet, and another half an hour on the subway, we arrived at Estacion del Sur - the main intercity bus terminal.

"¿Ola, abla ingles?"

"No." Apparently bus station attendants don´t get paid as much as those at the airport.

I fumbled through some words from my phrasebook and ended up with 2 tickets for the 15:30 bus to Granada.

The bus ride actually turned out better than expected. Five and a half hours on a bus may not sound that great, but it was modern and comfortable, and we actually managed to get a few more hours of precious sleep. When not dozing, we got to take in a bit of the passing countryside... hills upon hills of perfecly lined olive trees, medieval windmills sitting still as if just waiting to be challenged by a Don Quixote wannabe, a huge field of solar panels, and finally winding roads through the steep foothills of the Sierra Nevada.

Here´s a shot of Monika at our rest stop on the way - still smiling:



And another as we climb up the "street" where our hostel is - still kind of smiling:



End of day 1 in Spain - still married.