Granada

When we finally arrived in Barcelona after nearly 48 hours of travelling, we learned quite quickly that nothing in Spain is particularly efficient, and it's rather pointless to be in a rush for anything. While this is an aspect of Spanish culture I thoroughly enjoy and admire, when you've been travelling for 48 hours straight and you really need to pass some of that quality airline food through your body, you don't necessarily have the time to wait and take your time. That being the case, every single men's washroom in the Barcelona airport was closed for cleaning when we arrived. This is not an exaggeration. With my heart pounding, my hands getting clammy, and a 30 pound backpack over my shoulders, I covered every square foot of the airport searching for some glimmer of hope, each time encountering the same plastic sandwich board crudely shaped in the form of an airport security guard that blocked my entrance at every turn and quickly became, in my eyes, a symbol of scorn and hatred.

Another fine example of Spanish inefficiency was during our visit to the Alhambra in Granada. Situated in the south of Spain, Granada is the final resting place of the famed Spanish king and queen Ferdinand and Isabella, best known for their tolerance of Jews and Muslims. Before the "liberation" of Granada, the city had long been a moorish stronghold, leaving behind several remnants of Islamic architecture and fine city planning. Built in the 14th century, the Alhambra rests high above the rest of the city, with a clear view of the snow-tipped Sierra Nevada mountains in the near distance. The Alhambra is an impressive fortress which served both a military function and for making use of slave labour to construct grandiose and elaborate gardens and palaces.

The procedure for visiting the Alhambra is straightforward: (1) line up; (2) wait; (3) buy tickets; (4) line up; (5) wait. It is advisable to reserve tickets to the Alhambra well in advance, since a set number of visitors are granted admission to the grounds each day. We'd missed the window of opportunity to do this online, therefore, we had to bank on arriving early enough in order to secure tickets. The inherent problem with this plan, however, was that every single tourist in Granada had thought of the same thing. Since it was Semana Santa, the Holy Week leading up to Easter, it was, subsequently, the busiest and most visited spot in Andalucia, which required the Tourist Bureau in Granada to step up their operations and manpower in order to cope with the demand. Luckily, instead of just opening one ticket booth, they opened two, resulting in an average wait time of 3 hours in order to purchase a ticket.

Once we obtained our tickets, however, we had to wait another 3 hours before we could enter the grounds, and another hour and a half after that before we could enter the palace proper (only after the security guard had his smoke break).

Our stay in Granada also offered us the opportunity to observe the Semana Santa processions, which occur each year during the week leading up to Easter. Each night during the week, groups of brotherhoods which date back hundreds of years, parade through the narrow, winding streets carrying crosses, flames, and large floats decorated with Catholic icons. Each float was preceeded by a small marching band blasting sombre and depressing tunes, and proceeded by a contingent of women in high heels wearing black. Laura and I agreed that such an event would never occur in North America. For starters, the image of large groups of hooded men carrying crosses simply contains too many bad connotations, and the rickety floats piled high with lit candles and carried on the backs of a few men would present far too many safety hazards and potential litigation. The processions themeslves were quite long and drawn out, due in part to the fact that the floats could not be carried for too long. This gave the appearance that the procession itself was at times disorganized and its participants unsure of what to do next. It would seem that for most, the real highlight of the eveing was not the image of the crucified Christ, but rather the opportunity to collect the drips from the melting candles held by the men and women in the procession into large balls of wax.