On this, the last full day in Granada, I took a taxi up to the Mirador de San Nicolás in the well-known Albaicín neighborhood. I wanted to admire the whitewashed structures there and see the Alhambra from across the valley after yesterday’s palace tour. The view was everything promised, with the glowing fortress across the hillside, the Sierra Nevada rising quietly behind it.

From there, began the descent through the winding lanes of the Albaicín that curved around me. Perched on a hill, the Albaicín is filled with secret lanes and paths that feel like a labyrinth. So, for lunch, I followed my map and headed towards 4 Gatos, a little restaurant I’d heard about, with just four outdoor tables.

This enchanting neighborhood: It is on the north side of the Darro River which passes through the city of Granada and its medieval street plan dates back to the Nasrid period (13th to 15th centuries) – which explains the delightful maze of lanes that wind around the hill.

As I walked, it began to sprinkle. I was wearing an olive green skirt flowing nearly to my ankles, a soft cream sweater, and my coat: perfectly pleasant attire for a calm morning in Granada. All the walking streets slope downhill, often broken by wide stone steps. With them getting wet, I could tell they were slippery and I was glad to have on my trusted Börn walking shoes.

It moved from sprinkling to raining more and more intensely. Then, it became rather insistent. It rained in the manner of a determined Andalusian downpour, transforming the lovely cobblestone lanes into efficient little waterways. Within minutes I was drenched. Coat, shoes, hair, every article of clothing soaked through as though I had elected to take a long shower fully dressed. 

With no practical refuge to be found among the stepped cobblestone lanes and terraces, I gathered my wits and continued the descent, borne steadily downward by gravity, determination, and the increasingly assertive currents now coursing through the streets.

Once at 4 Gatos, it was clear that this outdoor seating choice would not be feasible. “Poor lost soul am I,”  I murmured to Frank. Famished, wet through and through, the rain continued to drench me. How much farther would it be before I’d reach the hotel?  Checking on Frank who was tucked inside the tote, I saw he was sitting with great satisfaction in his warm, dry surroundings, busily examining my tube of lipstick, the tissues, and playing Wordle on my phone. (People sometimes ask if I’m traveling alone. Technically yes, since my travel companion prefers to be carried about like minor royalty.)

“Such drama! A little rain is good for you,” he said from the tote, as he studied the word game. “What’s a five-letter word, first letter S, second letter M, third letter I, and last letter K?  I just need that fourth letter,” he said with an innocent grin.

“And,” he continued, “a frog, after all, knows better than to parade about in a downpour without proper preparation.”

What an amphibious viewpoint, I thought to myself as my feet made squishing sounds with each step.  

Continuing downward, I headed back towards the Plaza, my skirt heavy with rain and clinging to my legs. I applied myself seriously to avoiding the streams of water coursing down the sidewalk. Finally reaching the hotel, an emergency drying operation was established in the room. A lineup quickly formed along the radiator: coat, shoes, top, skirt, even undergarments, each taking its assigned position in the campaign for recovery.

Hair towel-dried and pinned up, dry clothes and a change of shoes later, I made my way back out again. The rain had stopped. Aching with hunger, completely depleted of hydration and sustenance, I headed down Calle Reyes Católicos. A quick turn down a hidden lane finally brought me to La Carmela, highly recommended by the concierge back at the hotel.

Now there, the hamburger ordered. “Tres cuatros, por favor”. Water came in a cobalt blue bottle and I quickly gulped down two glasses at once. Hydration. Done. My shoulders slowly released the tension of the day’s expedition.

Back in the room Frank took his seat beside the radiator lineup and prepared for a nap. Before closing his eyes, however, he glanced over at the impressive drying operation: coat, shoes, skirt, sweater, etc. slowly recovering from their ordeal along the radiator. Seated comfortably on a neatly folded hotel towel, he considered the day’s events. “I must say,” he remarked, “my travel arrangements today were excellent. Protected from the elements and carried through the streets of Granada in admirable comfort,” he remarked, “precisely the standard of travel to which I have become accustomed.” 🐸