uptempodemonplumsauce: "It's a bummer that Kirk Cameron is such a biblehead..."

...I text my high school besties when I read about his religious take on hurricanes. (Hurricanes are punishment. According to Kirk Cameron's understanding of the bible, I mean.) I loved Kirk Cameron in middle school and fantasized about being best friends with Candace Cameron and marrying into the family. I'm actually pretty happy now, that it never worked out.

Sept 9, Saturday

I look so bad at 5am
I needed a picture of it?

I sleep! For three hours, which is progress.

A few months ago my dad revealed he'd had traveled in Southern Spain and that Ronda was his favorite town. Since then, I've worked to get Ronda into my itinerary, and that had been part of the appeal of renting a car. I could make Ronda a day trip from Granada and return the car after, because as I confirmed yesterday, having a car when you live in Granada's tourist hot spot is a real pain in the ass.

I snap fully awake around 5 which works for my Ronda trip. I easily find the parking garage where I left my car yesterday. It turns out driving and walking in circles, lost and anxiety-ridden, imprinted certain details and landmarks in my mind. Is this what it's like to have a sense of direction? You people are so lucky!

Proud of my budget bfast of leftover cafe bread
& olive oil I swiped from my dinner last night.

I start my car. It's not good. It won't hold an idle. At all. I start and stall and start and stall and start and stall, etc, etc, etc. Shit, shit, shit.

I've had standard cars since I started driving and I've had lots of different mechanical problems, but I've never had this one. I assume the burning oil I smelled yesterday when I had to ride the clutch or roll backwards to my certain death was either a symptom or cause. I'm not too excited about overrevving again, but its the only way I can think to get the hell anywhere.

I rev and burn my way in fits and starts out of my parking spot, through the pay gate, and up, YUP, A STEEP INCLINE, out onto the street. All I can think is, thank God it's 630 in the morning and streets are sleepy. I can't say the same for the groups of partying students who walk the streets in packs. A guy offers me a driving lesson in Spanish when he hears me riding the clutch past him. "No!" I snap. Fuck him.

Gorgeous market, fresh everything!

Once I get to a thoroughfare I can drive on for longer than 10 seconds without having to idle, the car behaves better. But not road trip better. I try to make peace with skipping Ronda, but honestly, I'm upset about it. I wanted to see what my dad saw that made him love the town so much.

I stop to fill my tank. The car has a rough time, but finally starts back up. I get to the Hertz two hours early to wait for them to open. I park on the street and write-

By the time the Hertz opens, I start the car with dread. It's fine. I drive around and around, because streets make no sense here, and it runs beautifully. I return the car anyway. I guess I could have traded the car in and still gone to Ronda but I'm zombie tired now from sleep deprivation and stress. I need a fat nap.

I walk back home - nothing is more than a 15 or 20 minute walk away in the city center - and stop for some groceries, enchanted by the display. It's nice to experience the city in the early morning hours without a lot of other people.

Fried or die! Best damn fish ever.

I get some sleep, but mostly I self care with a long shower (guess who was too tired to shower last night after sweating through her clothes and the straps of her backpack?), fresh plums, and The Originals. The recoup time feels good. I wake up after noon and baby step back into my day.

I like doing Rick Steves walks the first days of any trip because they are an excellent orientation to each city. Especially for me and how I still can't tell my right from my left sometimes. So I do the Old Town Walk and the Albaycín walk. Tidbits-

-Granada is stunning, confusing and fantastically chilled out. There is no sense of agenda or pressure unless it's coming from me.

-I eat the best fried fish I’ve ever had. It’s a mixture of random sea creatures including calamari, sardines, shrimp, different fish bits, and more. I eat heads, I eat tails, I eat it all, and I do it without any sauce anything. THAT is how tasty this is.

-I see Granada versions of John Cusack driving a cab and Nicky Hooha working construction.

-Rick Steves said there would be stray cats around. I saw ONE. What a disappointment.

-Granada isn’t humid like Barcelona and the 80 degree temps feel perfect.

-My home is so convenient, I'm able to swing by for a water bottle refill/pee break mid-walking tour.

Paseo de los Tristes- sad name for a gorgeous
walk along Darro River

After dinner I have an appointment for an Arab bath at Baños Arabes Aljibe at 10p. When I read in my book that Arab baths were a thing, I booked an appointment immediately to make myself feel better about Ronda. It's my dream that a relaxing bath and massage will be the magic bullet that gets me to sleep for longer than three hours.

I worship Korean spas and their soaks, and an Arab bath is a lower key version of that (and you wear swimsuits because the baths are coed. Boooooo.) Appointments are 90 minutes and only a certain number of people are allowed to be in the bath area at once. They are huge into silence and relaxation. The bath area is 7 different pools, all ranging in temperature from flat out cold to deliciously hot.

Agree. Stop machismo. PS, stop spray painting ancient churches ffs.

Aljibe is beautiful inside: Moroccan style with very low light from the cold pool playing against the ceiling. It is candlelight dark around the other pools. Moroccan music competes with the sound of running water for the soundtrack. The experience is heavenly...

Except, obviously, for the two older couples who take pictures of themselves WITH THE FLASH ON and raise their voices over the soothing Moroccan music to hear each other. I fantasize about different ways to shut them up and I stay as far away from them as I can.

Here’s a PSA: If you ever go to any spa, shut the fuck up. Talking isn’t relaxing. Ever.