Day 16 - An Ode to the Spanish Olive

Poetry is not at all my forte, so all efforts to rhyme I'll aborte.

Today has been a classic example of how great we are when let loose. There's nothing really special about it except for it's total lack of anxious pre-arrangement. We simply got up, had tiny European breakfast at the hotel, walked over to the bus station, and boarded a bus bound for Granada.

It was a two-hour journey made into three as the bus stopped along the way in several towns to pick up additional passengers. The weather was perfect and the big bus windows were clean. The driver pulled out of the Cordoba station at 10:30 am on the nose.

For the next three hours we were witness to more olive trees than I knew existed. The landscape reminded me a lot of western Washington State except for the cultivated mile upon mile of olive trees. I certainly have new respect for the humble olive and the oil it affords. I have always had a thing for olives but now that fondness has turned to awe.



We got to this city without any plans. We didn't succumb to the desk for anxious travellers in the Granada bus station. We simply made our way to the front of a building, read the map at the shelter, got on #33 and got off the bus just as it was approaching downtown. We had seen signs for hotels and pensions from the street. After walking about one block, we went 50 meters up a side street and inquired at Pension Olympia. Thirty Euros a night. Good. Clean. Perfect.

We did quite a lot of walking around and I really like this city. I like seeing mountains as a backdrop. The Al-Hambra tomorrow. Hope we can get up early enough to beat the tourists ...