Ghosts in The Attic

At some point in the bus ride to Granada, I passed the bounds of reality and entered into a new plane of existence. I’m not sure which mountain or what alien landscape finally pushed me to this realization, but by the time the we were about 20 minutes out, I felt the call of this foreign land.

As a geology/geography nerd of course I had researched the area and sat glued to the window of the bus for 6 hours, captivated by every hill and valley. I gleefully pointed out to my class mates we were passing the Sierra Nevada range and the tallest mountain in mainland Spain, something to which I at least was really hyped about.

Needless to say I was excited to see such a new place. I had no idea what was in store for me. Our hotel was luxurious to say the least. After sleeping sheetless in a room that has no air conditioning and the sounds of sirens so loud it leaves my ears ringing, a quiet and cold place with plenty of shower water was the most welcome reprieve.

As we started our walking tour I was simply blown away by the architecture and history of this place.

I found myself taking an obscene amount of pictures even for my standards. So far on this trip alone I have taken almost 3000 (I counted) and that’s just what I kept. I think that a third of those I took here.

I was already in a trance; drunk on history and exhaustion (I am old and fat after all and the stairway to the top viewpoint about did me in)

Slowly but surely I made it there and was rewarded with a view that could only be described as mesmerizing. The beauty of the Alhambra towering over the city and crowned by Mulhacen in the background, still with snow visible on her peaks.

For those moments I was lost in translation. Overwhelmed by the grandiosity of it all. Just soaking that moment in. Next on the itinerary was the flamenco show.

As I sat there and watched the performers pour their heart and soul into their craft, revealing to us an intimate moment of cultural heritage and the source of pride of these people, I cried softly to myself overwhelmed by the spectacle of it all. The true gravity of the experience I am so very fortunate to be a part of, came to me full swing. I am doing something that very few people ever get to do. I honestly don’t know anyone who’s been to Spain, let alone on an adventure for two months as an old college student having a midlife crisis of sorts. As I sat there and absorbed every move and every purposeful stomp of their shoes as they danced, I recognized that privilege first hand. I am sharing in a culture foreign to me and seeing the world from well beyond my own eyes. I am such a small piece of a large and complex world and often scary world. Yet in that moment peace and joy had found me but not without a sense of reverence and humility. I have done nothing special to deserve this experience. I mean sure I paid for it so there’s that, but there’s so much. SO MUCH more that went into this than my money.

I looked at my young classmates and wondered if they too understood the significance of this experience and how life changing a cultural exchange can be.

I am not even going to get into the Alhambra and the churches that I visited on this blog, but just know that if you are reading this, you are a part of a world much greater than yourself. You are fortunate in your options and opportunities compared to most people who have existed on this earth. That is something to be both grateful for as well as humbled by. We have the obligation to be the change that we want to see. We have the power in our hands to make ever a small but constant changes towards a world that will hopefully be better when we leave it.