Hiking, or Oh My God, Liza finally posted PICTURES!!???

Blurry picture of the Alhambra lit up at night. This was the first night of my entire trip. IT was amazing.
A Little Artsy Shot of Inside the Alhambra
One of the many white-washed mountain towns I walked to in the past two days. Correct, CLIMBED to...like, for real.

So, now that I lured you in with my advanced photography, let me tell you why I have been away for the past two days.

I am in no way a nature person. As a kid, I lied to myself, walking through a rough and tumble prairie shortcut on my way back from school, coming home bruised and cut by the grasses that were often talled than me. As I aged, I found myself drawn to the hustle and bustle of city life, the roaring crowds of people, the chirping of taxi cab horns, and the gusty blows of the L zooming past you. I am not an outdoorsy person. I have, some how, managaed to climb two mountains, never really on purpose, never really wanting to, and yet, somehow, there I stand, on the peak of the giant monster of earthen gravel, wondering, how the hell am I gonna get back down?

Well, so, I signed up for a hiknig trip, a bonding thing with my classmates, why not, right? I can handle nature, and sometime, if I accept that the world is my bathroom, I even enjoy it. But, then, I came, a pair of jeans, a urban outfitters printed tshirt, an old pair of pumas who were more decorative than logical (but still the best shoes I got for the job) and sunglasses, to walk the mountains. When I was in South Africa, our professor warned us, this will be intense, you don´t have to go if you don´t want to, blah blah blah. As a challenge to myself, I did it, and I was greatful. I felt this trip to the Sierra Nevadas would run along in somewhat the same way.

Oh was I wrong. Before even starting our hike, the usual bocadillo reserved for about 2pm was devoured. Hmm...thats a lot of carbs before noon, I thought, but I brushed it off, blaming the Spainairds love of carbo loading. Then our guide came, about 5'2'', she was a tiny, almost sprite like woman, who was tan, and tiny, smaller than small, and yet somehow, undeniable healthy looking. I began to grow increasingly nervous.

So, we began, our walk, up and down and up and down and up the mountains. And, after six hours of hiking, I thought to myself: exercise can be rewarding, but right now, I would be okay with just never doing this again. What was it like, you may ask? Well, while our hikes uphill were tiring, as an uphill trek will be, our downhill times were a master class in agility, and for someone who lacks any agility, it was really a simple means of darting death. The paths were not those I myself am used to, these were made mostly of rough large rocks that had an innate ability to wobble nervously underneath you when you least expect it. The walkways never had railings, instead there were many sheer drops, where one could easily fall and never return. Walking miles and miles uphill, often in sweltering heat, and stopping only every so often to make sure that no one had fallen to their death, or so far behind that death was probably immenent. And our guide, the little sprite, just skipped and ran along as if she was a three year old running in the park. I hated her, I truly, strongly hated her, more than any other living person in the entire world. I suddenly began to believe in the devil, this woman, jumping and skipping, tralilila, while all of us stumbled and slipped and skidded down the rocky mountain ¨path.¨ Yes. It was hard. Really hard. And my focus, so centered on not dying, left me little time to breath in the mountain air and love life and do all those things that hiking is supposed to do.

We came back to our hostal, yeah, apparently no camping for me, and I devoured swordfish. At least that was nice and surprisingly fancy. All of us were drained, discussing not only the horror of another day in the mountains but the logisitcs of the entire thing. We, all inexperienced hikers from the great plains, placed into what seemed like an advance hike, were being draggged through paths so unruly and wild that all of us were still nursing our wounds. Scrabs, bruises, cuts, sores, sitting as an open reminder of the adventures of the day. How was this legal? How did no one DIE? How could one women be so evil!?

Then came day two. The night settled over me while my feet throbbed in pain, and I woke up to aches all over my lower body. So, then, I climbed again. This time almost two hours of straight uphill climbing. We walked, and walked, and the roads kept zigzagging, and we kept moving higher and higher, and the high altitude reduced our oxygen supply, and I was going to die, the higher we walked the steeper it seemed to get, and we tried to make her stop, and we hoped she would let us breath, and then, suddenly we were at the top. Yes, the tippy tippy top. Although we were fifty miles away, we could see the Medditeranean, and we could see everything, and there, in the distance, a white blur of houses, was our starting point. We had climbed to the top of a mountain. Somehow I had managed to make it all the way up (and not the last person to do so!), I had conquered my second mountain top, and I was impressed with myself. I also did not even want to think about the fact that I still had four more hours of walking ahead of me. But I did it, and I didn´t die, but wow, did I come close, and wow, did I think I was going to.

All in all, I mastered some mountains, but I also came close to crying not once, but twice. And you know what? I NEVER EVER EVER want to do it again. Towards the very end of our walk, a girl slipped and twisted her ankle. I felt awful. It could so easily have been me. Well, now I am back in the city, and I am happy, and I will sleep tonight knowing I had one of them most intense workouts of my entire life, and that I have truly climbed a mountain, and that tomorrow, I don´t have to do any of that crap.


Now, some more pictures.....


We ran into some sheep while hiking through the mountains. Just for clarification, this was the nice, leisurely, post mountain climb walked where everything was flat. Don´t call me a baby, trust me .... it was STEEEEEP.
This is my bedroom. Yesterday, my señora actually asked if I would like the picture of the Saint weeping taken down from above my bed. I said it was okay, I am fine with it, it doesn´t bother me. I actually have a desk across from my bed. But, just so everyone understands, when I sleep on this bed, my feet hang off the edge, it is designed for midgets or something.
These are the mountains we climbed, just to give you an idea, see that little white town in the center we climbed from there to where I was taking the picture. And that was only the first half of the first day!
A view of the town of Granada from the top of the Alhambra.
The main square and meeting place for people who live really far from Granada.