Spanish Fever.

I’m not sure if I’ve been Churro-fied, or Churro-lated but I could certainly eat churros y chocolate for breakfast every day for the rest of my life. Alastair, Ruth and I left Gibraltar to spend four days in Granada Spain. At the foot of the Sierra Nevada, Granada is a densely packed and beautiful city. All of the things I learned in Spanish class when I was about twelve years old started flooding back at me. The heat was beyond oppressive, reaching over 100 degrees Farenheit in the midday sun, therefore, local people would take a “siesta” during that time, closing up business or just going inside for a rest in the shade. Thus, people didn’t make their way back out for dinner until well after 9 o’clock when the sun finally resigned. Families would be out having dinner up until midnight. The “churros y chocolate” I learned about from my Spanish books were not just a myth from my youth, but an actual delight to partake in. Long tubular donuts called churros were dipped into thick drinking chocolate for a perfect breakfast. I can’t imagine a better way to start the day. My intention to capture a picture of these treats never manifested into an actual photograph before I shoved them all into my face making them disappear.

Granada, Spain.

Alastair and I enduring the heat.

The Alhambra Moorish Palaces were built for the for the last Muslim Emirs in Spain and its court, of the Nasrid dynasty. The fortress was impressive to say the least and offered breathtaking views of Granada below and the Sierra Nevada in the distance.

On the expansive grounds of The Alhambra.

Alastair and I are giving a wave.

Walking the grounds.

Alastair and Ruth amongst the Cyprus Trees.

Small restaurants boasted free tapas at every turn. Tapas, little plates of food, are typically given as a complimentary dish with each round of drinks ordered. Unfortunately, most of them contained meat so I wasn’t able to try too many. Nonetheless, I was able to find a place that offered up my favorite food…


We spent a day walking up through the Sierra Nevada where freezing cold mountain water traveling down in a small river was the only relief from the parched landscape and the unrelenting sunshine. We lost the trail but managed to come across an elderly mountain lady herding her goats and telling us to turn back. We made it back to Granada alive and enjoyed the delights of Spain before driving back to Gibraltar, meeting Alastair’s parents and Grandfather, and returning to the UK.

The street our hostel was on, walking distance from all that Granada had to offer.

Away we go.


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