Day 14

After our ”date night Friday night” dinner we woke up at 10:30. Wow. Off we went to Granada since we had “wasted” most of the morning. Although we were a couple of minutes by car from the Alhambra, downtown was another story. We caught the bus outside the hotel which took us straight to the center of town at the cathedral. It was a quick 15-20 minute trip, standing all the way.

Entering the cathedral one thing became quite obvious. Some architects are much better than others and it does not matter if the church was built in 1100 or in the 1500s like this one. Some are just better than others. I would not call it a disaster for us but $5 each was too much to pay to enter. I think that says it all. The cathedral is not kept clean and there was something not “lofty” in the scope of the space. I know I rant about excessive splendor and opulence in one cathedral then rant about lack of same in another. I guess I am just a complex individual – or one who likes to rant – you decide.

Leaving the cathedral, we went to an adjacent building which was the earlier Royal Chapel. It was commissioned by Queen Isabella, of Ferdinand and Isabella/Christopher Columbus fame, for their burial place. This was a magnificent, smaller structure which, I feel, outshines the cathedral. For this I was quite happy to shell out $5 each to see this.

Walking around the old town, we stopped for coffee, then walked a little more and stopped for lunch then walked around a little more and stopped for a beer for me and a sweet and coffee for Ann. We looked at our watch and it was almost 5:00 already. This would be the late in the day for Seattleites but more like the middle of the day for Spaniards. Dinner was still many, many hours away but lazing the day away on a fine sunny Saturday amid the weekend crowds of downtown seemed to be the thing to do - as most of the Granada folk were doing.

Back to the hotel on the bus we relaxed before dinner. At the bewitching hour of 8:00 we headed down to the dining room. In the dining room after ordering, in walked ol’ Ian and Elspeth. They are slightly older than us and quite erudite – great to talk with. Being Scots they can keep up their end of a conversation as can Ann. Yep, that leaves me.

They sat at the table next to us and we conversed over our respective dinners. When we finished our meals, I invited them to the bar upstairs for a wee dram of whisky, a single malt to be exact. Being a Scot it was, I believe, illegal for Ian to refuse a malt and he would be denied admittance back into Scotland upon his return. To save him this undesirable fate he accepted our invite, as did Elspeth who, I believe was “el jefe” – the boss.

In the bar upstairs there were only two single malts but both I had, amazingly, never tasted. I bought the first round; Ian bought the second. We talked, the four of us, for over two hours. At $9 a shot one would become destitute before inebriated. Ian even complained bitterly about the pour declaring it not to a fair measure. It was absolutely to no avail. We kicked over the table around midnight to the exchanging of email addresses and promises to stay in contact and visit. These poor folk do not know how blatant we are in this regard! Just ask Alistair and Judy Ross (and other friends we use for a free bed and breakfast).