Yesterday to Granada by Frank McKell
Yesterday to Granada
Yesterday, I went to Granada by appointment.
By 05:10 I had eaten some breakfast and was in the street having dumped my household rubbish in the collection bins - good neighbours are expected to deposit rubbish after 20:00. As I turned around the taxi that was to call for me arrived by my side. Settling in a reclining corner seat in the rear I was dozing off in the warm interior before we had reached the pueblo of Cherín that is only ten minutes from Ugíjar. A little further upwards on the road that would take us over la Sierra Nevada I awoke at the village of Picena. Here Paco, our splendid driver, was negotiating torturously tight turns on the way down to the heart of that small village.
In a very small plaza crammed with parked vehicles Paco manoeuvred to position his 9 seater taxi to enable his exit. With that achieved, two figures, an elderly man and a young woman who had been cowering in the shelter of a building, quickly boarded the warm taxi. A few minutes later as the taxi was passing through the pueblo of Laroles I was in the twilight of sleep and telling myself that this is the way to travel on a cold winter’s morn.
I remained awake long enough to catch sight of the street lights in the pueblo of Canjáyar. These lights give a quite remarkable outline in the shape of a lagarto (lizard).
Dozing, as the taxi wound its way ever upwards towards el Puerto de la Ragua where we would cross la sierra at 2000 metres, I awoke as we drew into the car park of a hotel in La Calahorra for a café stop; we had crossed over la sierra. Only Paco left the warm taxi and I imagine the others, being sleepy and warm as was I, were reluctant to move.
Leaving La Calahorra I remained awake along the first stretch of the autopista observing the dark silhouette of the snow splashed Sierra Nevada mountain range to my left and noting the positions of many small pueblos by their street lighting. I was surprised to see many more areas showing lights of pueblos than I had been aware existed; this was a fine way to get the geography of the populated zones nestled away in the countryside.
We passed the historical city of Guadix where the large, sixteenth century cathedral building could be seen on our left and there was evidence of the area’s famous cave dwellings in the red hills through which our road weaved. I closed my eyes and did not open them again until we entered the awakening city of Granada, my perpetual magnet.
Shortly before 08:00 the first passenger alighted at the Hospital Clinica, where I had my appointment for 12:24. The person who left the taxi is called Mari Angeles and she was visiting her daughter who had just given birth to her third son in the hospital. The daughter is a neighbour of mine in the pueblo as she lives some 50 metres further up the street from me.
Having 4 hours to spare before I need think of being in the hospital I asked to be dropped of at Calle San Juan de Dios. The weather was fresh but pleasant as I strolled contentedly along one of my favourite Granada Streets observing the early morning activities of the city.
My stroll was not aimless as I had very much in my mind a breakfast visit to one of my preferred eating places in all of Spain – Los Girasoles. This very homely Bar-Restaurante is located in Calle San Juan De Dios at the corner of Calle Mano De Hierro. Within a few moments I had a seat by the bar with the owner Manolo bidding me ‘buenos días’ and the waitress, María del Mar, asking what she should serve me. This was the moment for me to release the phrase that I had rehearsed many times. “Un descafeinado de máquina con leche muy caliente, y una media tostada de pan casero, con aceite y jamón; gracias.”
Within a minute I had my delicious glass of decaff café, which was joined by my tostada almost immediately. Unbelievably good bread made the base for a succulent tostada where the combination of pure olive oil and serrano ham was a-la-cordon-bleu!
Breakfast enjoyed, I crossed the street to enter one of the buildings of the ancient San Juan De Dios complex that is now used by the authorities as a centre for the treatment of those with toxic substance dependence, alcohol, drugs and such. There are two splendid interior patios within the building and each has a quadrangle of multiple arches on the floor above. The walls are covered with paintings on religious themes that are about six feet by four in size.
Sadly, building and paintings need renovating and restoring though there has been an announcement that many millions of euros are to be spent upon a substantial programme of improvement. Hopefully the announcement will speedily translate into action and this beautiful building and contents will be restored.
I spent some moments inside the nearby church of Santos Pastor y Justo where a group of young people were congregated by the enormous gold decorated altar; one that is perhaps classified as Baroque. There appeared to be a monitor with them and so they may have been students from the university.
Continuing my stroll I was alert for signs of an Internet café for I knew that in the area there would be a number since university faculty buildings abound in these streets of the old university district. Very soon I was settled in one of these computer places located in the corner of Plaza Encarnación opposite the church mentioned. There was a young lady at the reception desk who could well have been a university student; the free café was gurgling and sending forth its aroma – splendid!
Connected to the Internet and dealing with my e-mail whilst enjoying fresh café was another enjoyable part of my morning. The prices are very cheap when using the system of buying tickets; these allow Internet connection for 70 cents per hour. As a one off customer I paid somewhat more but it was inexpensive. Furthermore, they have anti-virus installed on the computers so I shall be able to use my memory stick without fear of collecting any beasties whenever I connect here; yippee!
Time then to meander along to the Hospital Clínica, about half a mile away; the day was fine, the sun shone; the air, fresh from the Sierra Nevada towering in its snow blanket in the near distance, filled the clean and pleasant streets.
In Avenida de La Constitución I had no success when trying to extract money from a cash dispenser of Caja Rural bank. Firstly, the sun was shining upon the screen making it extremely difficult to read the instructions. Secondly, when I chose (correctly I believe)
Spanish as my preferred language I was given French. Going in to the bank, which was not that in which I have the credit card account, I explained my difficulties.
The young lady who was attending me conferred with a male colleague who appeared to be a senior member of staff; turning to me she said “I’ll go to the machine with you.” Outside we went where she agreed the task was difficult. She operated the machine, asking me what to punch in then turned away whilst I typed my pin number. I got my money. Viva España!
Thanking the Señorita for her excellent attention I continued my stroll along the wide boulevard. What pleasant service, I mused while wondering how I might have been treated in a similar situation in a strange bank in the UK.
In to the Hospital Clínica I went with about a 30 minutes wait until my appointment time; I was seen almost precisely on schedule – excellent service!
‘Doctora Dulanto Campos’ is rather deaf, so much so that I appeared to have very acute hearing, which I do not have (ask my friends). The good Doctora looked at my bared back, said I had very dry skin and should use hydrating cream; examined the back of my left hand with a magnifying glass and declared that the sun damage blemishes should be removed.
As the Doctora went behind her desk I endeavoured to have her look at the area of my left temple where blemishes were cut away two years ago; she did not pause, nor look at me. Raising the level of my already loud voice I challenged her with more sound while pointing to my temple and endeavouring to explain my concerns.
The Doctora glanced in my direction and said, ‘no that is alright.’ I responded with more hand waving and sound but the good Doctora sat solidly behind her desk and repeated, ‘no that is alright.’ I do hope she is accurate in her apparently informed diagnosis made from a distance, nevertheless I have some small bumps on my temple that I would rather were not there. I foresee a further visit to the enchanting city of Granada.
Surprisingly, having attended to the administrative details of being added to the waiting list so I can be advised by telephone of the date for the removal of the blemishes, I was out by 12:50 and fairly contentedly making my way to – yes, Los Girasoles.
This time I had a glass of Mosto (Non alcoholic grape wine) with a large tapa of arroz (Paella) for 1.70 €; it was ‘Big Bliss!’
Another meander through the university area, along Calle Angulo where Federico García Lorca was taken under arrest to the ‘then’ building of The Governor Civil in August 1936 before being executed a few days later. I wandered through the ground floor of that impressive building that now houses the university Facultad de Derecho (Law Faculty).
Shortly after leaving the faculty building I arrived at the small and pleasant Plaza de Trinidad where the Ugíjar taxi has an agreed pick up point opposite bar Soria. Here I sat on a park bench in the shade of leafy trees to observe the daily activity of the now fully awakened city of Granada as I awaited the arrival of Paco with his taxi.
Spot on time at 14:00 Paco drew alongside in his sparkling chariot and I was soon comfortable and settling down in the same seat as on the inward journey for the return to my wee casa. We had to wait a short time for one passenger and then Paco went around Granada collecting the others, one of whom was María Angeles at the Hospital Clínica where she had been dropped off six hours earlier. There were other pick-ups at locations quite off the main streets where Paco would leave the taxi and go to knock on people’s doors. This is a quite exceptional service and all for the price of 24 euros return.
There was no comfort break on the way home with the first passenger to leave being in Picena. In Ugíjar passengers left at the housing complex known as ‘the setenta viviendas’ (Because there are seventy houses in the complex!) and then it was my turn. The taxi stopped so close to the door that I was able to leave by stepping directly onto my front door step.
This taxi is a splendid way to travel and extremely comfortable when compared to driving oneself with the need for concentration on the roads and the serious parking problems. Driving within Granada city is horrendous!
After a very enjoyable day I succumbed to a late siesta, bliss indeed!
Being a bit remiss, I am finishing this tale on Thursday December 27th; seven days have passed since my trip into Granada when we passed over el Puerto de La Ragua.
Today, on the news it is announced that “as a result of snow falls, that route is closed to traffic.” Paco would take the taxi to Granada on the low road via Lanjaron to ensure his passengers reached their destinations; his village taxi is indeed a valuable and dependable service.
Frank McKell
Kind regards to all
Barrhead Library
Staff & Members
