No Strangers Here

The American short-story writer, Washington Irving (Rip Van Winkle, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow)

visited the Andalusia in the spring of 1829. In recounting his journey from Cordoba to Granada, he wrote:

The dangers of the road produce a mode of traveling, resembling, on a diminutive scale, the caravans of the east. The arrieros, or carriers, congregate in convoys, and set off in large and well-armed trains on appointed days; while additional travelers swell their number, and contribute to their strength. In this primitive way is the commerce of the country carried on.

Pa and I saw nothing of the sort on yesterday’s journey, traveling as we were at 185 mph. Perhaps caravans are still there, somewhere off in the distance. But if not, one can imagine, as the arid deserts, fertile plains, and plantations of subtropical fruits still dominate the landscape.

There are certainly differences. The small, multi-colored homes now sprout antennas from their roof tops. Roadways, narrow and wide, are populated with modern, four-wheeled carriers. And commerce is carried on as much by smart phones as by convoys.

But step off the train in Granada, and the sight is much the same now as it was for Mr. Irving nearly two hundred years ago.

At one time, Granada was known in Arabic as Ġarnāṭa - “the hill of strangers.” It’s hard to believe it was ever referred to as such. On our thirty minute walk from the station to the Palacio de los Navas Hotel, we witnessed nothing like that.

Friends were congregating,

and dining together.

Couples walked hand in hand.

Young people “chilled”

and strollers were everywhere.

Come five o’clock and the streets were empty. But at seven, they came to life again.

Today we’ll visit the Alhambra, having read something of Mr. Irving’s account. We’re hopeful nothing has changed.

But if so, we can imagine.