I’m perched street level on Calle Tablas, within eyeshot of Plaza de la Trinidad, GraNada, and for the first time in almost a week an idle moment presents itself. The late afternoon sun of Andalucia is still intense into September; per tradition the locals avoid the heat, deserting the streets for some ciesta nap. Along this main pedestrian thoroughfare all the shops have shuttered their doors save for the corner cafe at which I’m perched with coffee in hand. A low trickle of locals pass by going about their daily routines. Nothing unusual is happening… But glorious it is to enjoy this blink in time.
Accounting the last few days, it is certain I’ve passed through many a city gate and port, so much distance traverse in hasty pace. I’ve descend the Hight Atlas, passed through the former imperial cities of Fes and Meknes, walked the Roman ruins at Volubilis, dined at night by Tangier’s waterfront, ferried across the Straight of Gibraltar, bused from Tarifa to Granada hugging the Spanish southern coast — all to catch the early rays at the fabled Alhambra! Although the grand architecture is truly impressive, it has been tremendously taxing on the body. Certainly, it is not the preferred pace, but with time being such a crucial constrain, it is the best one can hope for. As such, these idle moments alone bemused among the locals is appreciable.