The Great Palace is uncustomarily quiet. Gone are the hordes of tourists clicking their shutters away while pretending to listen to the history of the Alhambra being regurgitated in an over-familiar fashion from their well-rehearsed tour guides. Gone is the stream of children who seek refuge in the stone-carved niches and marble columns while their parents marvel at the intricacy of the arabesque awnings and pay no attention to their little critters. The whole of Spain is on strike, and so are the caretakers of the Great Palace. CERRADO POR HUELGA! Declares angry red stickers plastered all over the ticketing counters of the Alhambra. Closed for Strikes!
The Big Fat Argentinian Sisters are not impressed. We flew halfway across the world to see this place and now you tell us it's close?! Esta una desgraciado!
Lo siento, señora, lo siento, mumbles The Poor Andalusian Guide apologetically. We did not know this would happen either.
From the breast pocket of his lightweight cotton shirt, The Poor Andalusian Guide produces a camel-colored handkerchief and proceeds to wipe a few beads of sweat off his forehead. Standing under the blazing evening sun and having three Big Fat Argentinian Sisters shooting daggers towards his Poor Andalusian Soul must have made him diaphoretic.
We hang around the entrance for a few minutes. The Poor Andalusian Guide is muttering frantic phrases into his cellphone. I spot an ambulance. "Cruz Roja" sounds way cooler than the "Red Cross". But damn! No hot paramedics around. Shortly after, The Poor Andalusian Guide stride towards us with a slightly triumphant but nervous smile. The Officials have decided to open sections of the Alhambra to visitors. I suppose seeing something is better than coming all the way here and seeing nothing at all. The Big Fat Argentinian Sisters look at each other and snort. There is nothing more anyone could do but to follow The Poor Andalusian Guide into the Alhambra and explore the place as much as The Officials would allow.
From the breast pocket of his lightweight cotton shirt, The Poor Andalusian Guide produces a camel-colored handkerchief and proceeds to wipe a few beads of sweat off his forehead. Standing under the blazing evening sun and having three Big Fat Argentinian Sisters shooting daggers towards his Poor Andalusian Soul must have made him diaphoretic.
We hang around the entrance for a few minutes. The Poor Andalusian Guide is muttering frantic phrases into his cellphone. I spot an ambulance. "Cruz Roja" sounds way cooler than the "Red Cross". But damn! No hot paramedics around. Shortly after, The Poor Andalusian Guide stride towards us with a slightly triumphant but nervous smile. The Officials have decided to open sections of the Alhambra to visitors. I suppose seeing something is better than coming all the way here and seeing nothing at all. The Big Fat Argentinian Sisters look at each other and snort. There is nothing more anyone could do but to follow The Poor Andalusian Guide into the Alhambra and explore the place as much as The Officials would allow.
Spend a day @ La Alhambra, Granada, Spain.
5 Durian(s) Thrown at Jun:
Well, I'm certainly glad that you (and the Big Fat Argentinian Sisters) were allowed inside to see a few sections of the Alhambra (better than none at all) for these pictures are spectacular! :)
kenny: haih, wat to do when u have national strikes?? i'm glad at least we got to see parts of it. will prolly need to return to visit the whole place- wanna come? ;)
Yes, I so wanna go! Can I bring the Devil along? ;)
kenny: of course can lah!:P
Hurrah! Now all I gotta do is persuade him to sponsor my trip too. LOL
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