Well, I must say that Almeria the city has nearly the capacity to badger me to the extent of the woman who bears its name. Ha! Just kidding Mom! You do badger me from time to time but not as much as this city has in only 3 days! When I arrived I did so with some sort of injury to my right foot that I had apparently sustained on the ridiculously pointy and slick cobblestones of Granada. Then, on the morning of my second day I awoke to my right eye swollen completely shut! What the heck?!? I didn't even go out and I was in bed by 12am. Is there some sort of God of Beer punishing me for not having any? Then I topped all that off with a nice sunburn and finally by losing my voice.
So like my relationship with Mom, Almeria the city has certainly provided me with some adversity! But I'm determined to overcome it. And I started that on Thursday when I arrived by not only proceeding on foot to the hostel, but by getting in the entire walking tour of the city in my limpy gimp state. But before I talk about the city, it is important to note that the surrounding area, much to my surprise, is nothing like the (comparatively) lush Granada a mere 2 hours away. No, the landscape around Almeria looks more like this:
When I arrived in the city I had not booked a hostel but I had a vague idea of where one of the cheap(er) ones was and so I set off dragging my damaged appendage behind me. I eventually located the hostel which is in fact a youth athletic oriented hostel, and one of the biggest I've ever come across. While I'm neither youthful nor that particularly athletic, I did need a place to stay so I ponied up the cash. I'll say one further comment about this hostel: In spite of, or perhaps due to, its massive scale and converted elementary-school appearance, it is one of the most spooky hotels I've ever stayed in. Almost worse than Macau. At night, the hallway lights flicker on and off casting shadows under the door, there are repetitive bottle-clicking sounds in the bathroom reminiscent of that scene from The Warriors, and the wind howls outside the windows at night. Given all that, it's entirely possible my swollen eye was due to a late-night sucker punch from a ghost.
Being that it was a lovely day when I arrived (78 and sunny) I decided to embark on the grand tour of the city, bum foot notwithstanding. The first thing I'd like to point out is that Almeria is extremely well laid out and landscaped. It reminded me of a smaller Lisbon- a great Rambla (main drag) laid out with trees, port and beach area waterfronts, and of course a castle high on a hill from which to take in the views of the city.
The castle itself is called Alcazaba (not to be confused with Abracadabra), and is the second largest Moorish castle in Andalucia after the Alhambra. Wow, that's a lot of A's. The hike up to the Alcazaba isn't too bad though, even on a gimp foot, and there are some spectacular views of the city and port area from there.
The merits of the castle itself are not without noting- it has been painstakingly restored and landscaped, and the best part is you can get in free! Certainly the most interesting feature of the gardens area is the series of waterfall steps cascading down to the fountains.
After strolling, as best as I could, through the Alcazaba, I headed down the hill to the city center and walked down the Rambla and toward the beach. I was just in time to see a cruise ship departing- off to another fabulous Mediterranean destination I suppose. According to my Mom (clearly the definitive source on HER city), Almeria is a major port destination for cruise ships offering tours of nearby Granada. Makes sense. I also did a bit of research on the city myself (ok, wikipedia) and discovered that the name of the city is rooted in the Islamic word Al-Mara'ā meaning "the watchtower." I can certainly see the parallels to that and my mom during my high school years- ha! A few of you know what I'm talking about... ahem.
In any case, I actually found the city quite charming and was looking forward to a relaxing day by the beach on Friday. That is until I awoke Friday morning to discover that I was only able to see out of one eye! Oh no! I'm blind! No... wait, it's just swollen. But, how did that happen? I was in my room all night. As my buddy Kev said, "I always start every black/swollen eye investigation with the assumption
that the victim was hit in the eye with a sock full of pennies. I then
work to disprove that theory."
Using Kev's detective methodology, even under the presumption that some dastardly rogue broke into my room
whilst I was sleeping and bashed me across the face, in this case I can't imagine a sock full of the tiny 1 euro cent coins doing much damage. There was no insect bite and I don't think I got something in my eye as the eye itself wasn't red or irritated. So the only logical conclusion I could come to was that during the night I had somehow in my dreams irritated myself enough that I tried to poke out my own eye. Stunning.
So as any man embarrassed by seemingly his own actions, yet with only one afternoon available at the beach to spare, I merely proceeded with my day albeit refusing to remove my sunglasses even when indoors or reading from my computer. But, thank goodness, this visual impediment did not in any way prevent me from getting nicely toasted on the beach! And after I could feel myself begin to sizzle I retreated to a cafe and heladeria (ice cream shop- which are about every 6 feet here) to do some writing and reading on the trusty old laptop (now nicely coated in a layer of sand- thanks Almeria).
From the cafe I took stock of my situation and made the audible to cancel my planned trip to Benidorm for a night of partying. It seemed too ridiculous to attempt to go out at night wearing sunglasses and I was unable to locate an acceptable eye-patch, so it seemed most reasonable to extend my stay in Almeria a night, recuperate from my ailments, and take the overnight bus Sunday to Valencia. Yay... another overnight bus...
Day 3 found me awakening to a howl which I could only assume was either a wolf about to devour what remained of my face, or the gale force winds predicted by the weather channel. Thankfully it was the latter. Although after attempting to go to the beach and being sandblasted until my skin achieved a fine luster I was beginning to wish it was the former. Retreating from the sandstorm by the beach I decided to head to the bus station to purchase my ticket and then take a stroll around the northern part of town. I started walking north for quite a while and then took a left on what appeared to be a main boulevard. Expecting at some point to eventually hit the Rambla and then proceed back south through the city I kept walking. About half an hour later I encountered this:
To my right, the end of the city. Straight ahead, the end of the city. To my left, mountains and the end of the city. And behind me, uh, the way I came. I would also like to note that all morning after seeing numerous vendors selling ice cream cones my sole desire was to finally acquire my first ice cream of the trip. Well, I apparently walked in the only direction in Almeria where ice cream is non-existent.
Having failed both my primary goal of finding ice cream and my secondary goal of not getting lost, I was faced with a tough decision. It was too nice of a day to spend entirely indoors but it was too damn windy to continue walking aimlessly around the city. So I did what any of you dear readers, lost in a foreign city, under abusive weather conditions, sunburnt, physically impaired, still partially blind, and moderately famished, would do: I initiated the first inaugural Mike Steele Lone Ranger Mid-Day Lost in Foreign City One Man Bar Crawl™!! And since I was hungry, I kicked it off at the closest restaurant I could find where, much to my great shock, they had real (not Spanish) pizza and ice cold beer!!
After that I proceeded to five more cafes/bars grabbing a beer and tapa (usually just chips and a piece of ham or something) until I had finally wound my way back to the hostel. My favorite of all these was the Havana Cafe which was a bar, eatery, cafe, and heladeria all mixed into one. It had a great vibe- and even had some of those fans I found charming at the Long Bar at the Raffles Hotel in Singapore.
With my tapa I ordered half of a toastada with sobrasada y queso. Sobrasada is a type of sausage but on the toastadas it is crumbled mixed with something (tomato sauce maybe?) so that it can be spread on the bread. It's an excellent and relatively cheap snack.
Deciding to take it easy, I retreated to my hostel for the night, eschewing any potential Saturday night Almeria madness. Day 4 found me mostly recovered from my ailments with the exception of somehow losing my voice and having a scratchy throat. But I spent most of the day relaxing in the shade and avoiding more of the gale force winds that continued to sweep through the town. I did finally attempt, for the fourth day in a row, to eat at this fish restaurant down the street. But again, as always, it was completely packed with people and I was unable to get in. Must be really damn good fish. So I went for a hike and long story short ended up finally getting my first ice cream of the trip. My workday being complete (and being thoroughly blasted by the wind) I returned to the hostel to wait out the bus to Valencia. Forecast for Valencia: 78-80 degrees with 0% chance of rain, every single day.
Bonus Photo: Me with a sign that reads Almeria. Just for you Mom.
No comments:
Post a Comment