Andalucía

Our adventure in Andalucía began in bus, rolling steadily up and around, snaking down, exploring the horizons of southern Spain. Along the waves of land grows rocky cliffs, cave homes, wildflowers, and particularly between Granada and Córdoba awing fields of olive trees and olive trees and olive trees with the Sierra Nevada mountains in the background.

Granada has this frame, this frame of rugged majesty competing with a canvas of culture and color, past and present, song and silence. Crawling up the narrow streets contained by white handkerchiefs, walls carefully embroidered with brilliant flowers of the Albaicín, the once arabic neighborhood, la guitarra gitana trickles down, mixing with aroma of tea, jasmine and wisteria. Between the peaks of the mountains and walls of the homes exists the music of water, the Generalife, and the glow of the Alhambra.

Sevilla came a weekend later via plane . . . some snapshots of two days spent running:

The Cathedral of Sevilla and la Gibralta at 1 am—glowing, glowing in the night, with bats flying above . . .

Puente Isabel II—this bridge was my source of peace. An afternoon next to the river, outside of a café with a view of the bridge and the Guadalquivir, a night sitting silently, another with friends—what a sensation of peace and awe of I am here, in Sevilla, España.