In Granada, we had the most incredible view of the Alhambra at night from our hostel’s windows. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still picture it perfectly in my head. In Granada, we ran in flimsy ballet flats like madwomen so we wouldn’t miss our night entry into the Alhambra. The guards let us know how much longer we had at each checkpoint and radioed ahead so that we would be allowed in. In Granada, we got lost coming down the hill at night and had a completely insane taxi driver who drove the wrong way up one way streets. In Granada, we were accosted by a random hippie who offered us weed and gave us hugs in the square. In Granada, we wandered for hours aimlessly in the Albayzin, waiting for the tiny, hole-in-the-wall seafood shack to open up (it never did). In Granada, we drank horchata de chufa to our hearts’ content.
In Granada, I realized that what I wanted to do was travel for as long as I could. It was the end of my first time travelling abroad and I woke up each morning there thinking, “I’m not ready to leave this yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
Soon, I’ll embark on my next adventure. I’ve travelled a bit since then, but I still have so much of the world to see. And a year and a half after we drank horchata in Granada, I still feel the same way.
I still want to travel as far, as much, and as long as I can. I can hardly wait.