Granada, who knew it meant ‘pomegranate?’

I’ve been here before. The first place I’d travelled to and thought, “Hey, I could actually live here.”

Five years later and I’m living in Spain, but five hours from Granada. Two bus rides. And I also happen to be one of the few people who enjoy bus rides; sometimes I don’t want them to end. My mind can entertain itself for hours – even longer if I provide it with an iPod, a book (I’m reading The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared – I highly recommend) and a tattered journal….because what authentic writer doesn’t have a journal which isn’t tattered?

Tapas gratís – devoured.

On the four day trip to Granada I hope to: have a break from the classroom, meet some new people, indulge in nostalgia from my last trip to Granada and hear some Aussie accents. Normally, like all other Aussies, I am trying to get away from Aussies. But living in my small city in Spain I haven’t met any others, even in my brief trip to Seville. So I’m kind of feeling a little Aussie-sick. Oh, to hear that accent again. I’m sure I’ll get over it quickly. On the bus ride I am listening to Sunk Loto and Xavier Rudd: I am overeager.

the famous Alhambra
A real-life impressionist painting is right outside my window. As we reach the province of Granada, I remember those trees: bright red, brown and green. Earthy tones fanning into the sky. I arrive at the bus station and meet my Aussie friend. What a novelty for me, somebody to meet at the station. I love this trip already. I remember the bus station in Granada well, strangely, better than I remember the Alhambra. My memory can be funny like that.

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