Sunday postcard from… Granada, Spain

Hola amiga!


So, this is it.

I moved into my new room today. It still held a musty smell of dust and dirt from the previous resident, the Belgian guy who didn’t bother to clean up too thoroughly. I found half a chestnut under my bed, not yet rotting but definitely not edible.

Otherwise it’s not too bad. Although it’s a four-bed dorm, it’s very rarely needed for hostel guests, so I’ll have my private space for the next six months. It’s sorely needed, too; while I am accustomed to staying in hostel dorms and really don’t mind it, it almost seems like my temporary dorm has been trying to expulse me for the past few days. This weekend, one of the girls has woken up from a nightmare screaming for help every single night; and after she checked out, the dorm filled up with five guys that smell like a rugby team after practice.

I put my postcards up on the wall and instantly it felt a little more like home. I guess it helps that Spain feels homely. Every day I fall more in love with Granada, its winding narrow streets and the snow-covered Sierra Nevada standing robust on the background. Granada is a very lively city – annoying, I assume, during the high season, when the old Arabic quarters and cooler temperatures lure in masses of tourists, but as the air gets colder, the only people left are the locals and the international students.

If only the Spanish were fast walkers I’d be completely happy here.

Life in a hostel is like living in an alternative reality. Staying in hostels, I know all about that, but actually living in one for a long time? It’s a strange mixture of permanence and temporarity, a life where people walk in and out on a daily basis but you stay rooted.

‘You’re part of the furniture now’, a Maltese guy I met last weekend quipped.

Well, as I officially start working tonight, I’m looking forward to being the most useful refridgerator here.

Anyway, I’ll let you know how it goes. What about you? How’s life? Hope you’re doing well!



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