An orange in my turban

Dream or reality? Waking up from a midday nap in the sun, on a beautifully tiled, centuries-old bench, underneath orange trees in a fit-for-fairytale palace garden certainly had me blinking a few more times before I realized life was indeed too good to be true. Yet again, I had the proverbial orange thrown into my turban. But what about you, my reader? Any oranges around? Come and dream some with me.

This is where you need to go
Still running behind on the writing, this post finds me at the end of January, everywhere and nowhere in southern Andalusia. And I ran into this particular bench in the sparkling green gardens of the Alcazar palace, a not-so-touristy mini-Alhambra smack in the city centre of Sevilla. Not that I noticed the usual surrounding Spanish conundrum: the only sound that reached my ears were the whispering palm leaves in the wind and the gurgling of a distant fountain spout. Put a little sun on it, some peacocks scratching around, and eyes droopily tired from too much architectural beauty, and you’ve got yourself my nap.

Insiders
Sevilla surprised me in many ways, even in Spanish mid-winter. And as always, good memories are best created with good company. I arrived in Sevilla sneezing my eyes out with a persistent cold, and a little anxious, as I was once again traveling alone. But less than 24 hours later, the loneliness problem had evaporated. Three kindred spirited girls from three entirely different corners of the world ran into my travel path, and all of them independent travelers about my age. Together we discovered the city by the recent innovation called non-free ‘free’ hiking tours. These walks served us a mildly depressed yet highly entertaining Juan, and Medi the ADD actor meets IT boss on a perpetual performance spree. And both of them breathed and lived on Sevillan oddities. For example, did you know Flamenco music was probably derived from Dutch priests that fled to Spain a few centuries ago, and continued singing their church services? And the gruesome story of how a love betrayal got thousands of Jews massacred in a single night? And that the famous blue-white tile splashed Plaza de España should have had a mirror image? (As usual construction went hugely over budget.) To top it up, Juan and Medi also informed us on where to get the typical little Tapas dishes, such as mouth-watering chicken in almond sauce. Very nice with the refreshing Tinto de Verano (1/2 red wine + 1/2 lemon soda) to wash it down.

Reunions
Having a good time as I was, all things had to come to an end. After dinners, devilishly tasty churros con cholocate, fruitless flamenco searches, and that legendary nap, all three girls left to their respective destinations in Portugal, Morocco and the US. So, how about me? Well, what better way to end good things than by starting more good things? Chased by the deadline of three – decidedly very different - incoming friends, me and my backpack hitchhiked to the out-of-the way village of Fuente de Piedra, somewhere between Grenada and Sevilla. There, Floor, Ingrid, Annelies and I had rented a house for the last ten days of my trip. Wow, complete reset! Firstly, from smelly hostel dorms and morning-till-night city hikes my lifestyle transformed to wood fire, roof top terraces, and multiple-course breakfasts. Secondly, not often did I venture out so little, holiday and domestic times alike. Quite a bit unlike me; and even more unlike me to enjoy it to the fullest. What four girls, a little wine and a wood fire can do! Ai, or am I starting to collect Granny Points here?

Pretty pretty
Now, don’t you think we were completely lazy! After sleeping off our work slash travel weariness, we were proper tourists, snapping pictures of all the nearby natural and cultural wonders. But boy, did we miscalculate! No way we could do justice to Andalusia in a mere ten days. First there’s too many cute little villages, and as many winding roads lined by blossoming almond trees and crazy rock formations. Then there’s both skiing and beach and hiking within three times spitting distance (excuse my French, Dutch saying). And then there are about a billion colorful, shiny, patterned Arabic tiles on various historical wonders – the world famous Alhambra merely one of them. Pretty pretty, me like, inner geek went wild again! Seriously, it was impossible to not to drown in the extent and beauty of all those Arabic mosaics. And it went on and on, building after building, room after room. It was just too much to take in; I won’t even try to describe it. Honestly, I can’t! Just go there yourself to absorb and dream and loose reality, albeit for a few hours only.

OK reader, there’s no good way to end this story. My head is full of tiles, and hopefully yours will experience the pattern frenzy some day soon as well. Now I must work on one last Spain Intermezzo story: it’s about the “The World’s Most Dangrous Hiking Trail”, so not to be missed!

Final note: The day I was taking the nap described above, my Danish friend Henriette texted me that “I surely had an orange in my turban”. Apparently this is a Danish expression, meaning ‘having a stroke of luck’. It originated in the play Aladdin by the Danish poet and playwright Adam Gottlob Oehlenschläger. The proverb might seem a little out of place in Denmark, but certainly not in Andalusia.