Navigating Tight Spots at Christmas

Does Rudolph have a sixth sense? Does GPS guide Santa’s sleigh? How do all those Christmas presents make their way around so quickly and accurately? Does he know we’re here in Spain? These were some of the kid’s questions for a Christmas in Spain.

Faster than Rudolph

A rental car and a hotel stay always provide the impression that you can drive a little faster and leave your room a bit messier.

As Assumpta dropped me off at Valencia’s Manises Airport National Rent-A-Car counter, the big ol’ family van I had reserved wasn’t available. Instead, a 7 seater Peugeot SUV was the healthy steed carrying us across southern Spain. The difference is that this bronco glistened with a touch screen, keyless entry, and some major horsepower, an upgrade over my Qatari Chrysler Captiva. As quickly as I provided Raoul with a credit card, refused additional car insurance, because, hey, I’ve been driving in Qatar for three months, and figured out how to unlock the digital parking brake (insert manual car joke here), I was out on the neatly manicured streets of Valencia. As long as I didn’t break the speed limit with random digital cameras attached to the underside of bridges.

Half way to Granada, Nadine programmed the super delicious Lonely Planet recommended restaurant in Murcia in our Peugeot GPS. It swiftly guided us to Murcia’s industrial area and the front door of a metal parts manufacturer.

This industrial area detour didn’t get any closer to feeding four hungry kids. Thank you globalization and McDonalds, an authentic Spanish meal. This wouldn’t be our only visit.

Alcazaba Protecting Granada

Tiny Spots

Framed by snowy mountains (Yes, in Southern Spain), Granada started coming into view. Wide open sky. Downtown Granada roads on the other hand, thin as Girl Scout mint cookies. European roads were built wide enough to accommodate horse and buggies, not French Peugeot SUVs. So each time the almighty, all knowing GPS told me to turn, I thought “Really? Those must have been skinny Spanish horses back in the time of Don Quijote.” Streets looked more like sidewalks disguised as dark alleys. We circled and circled our AirBNB. By the fourth flyby, I pulled into the one empty parking spot by a pharmacy six blocks away. Like the three wisemen with a bulkier load of suitcases, we guided through merrymaking 20 somethings celebrating the holidays with the same gusto that they got dressed in those skin tight black plants with matching black shirts and slicked hair. And those were the guys. “Kids, avert your eyes and let’s admire this pee stained wall opposite those bars. Merry Christmas kids!”

With the family safely inside, I returned to the Peugeot and found the closest parking garage. Like the streets outside, this underground parking resembled the same tights spaces of a Japanese one bedroom apartment. Each right turn further down into the belly of the parking garage required several reversals, hard turns on the wheel, inching forward, just to turn right in the parking garage. That was one of many right turns.

Once I had found a spot and squeezed that trusty Peugeot in a parking spot, pinned in safely by a green pillar that revealed the scars of many failed parking attempts. Just inches away on the opposite side of the pillar and behind me were two other cards. I vowed not to remove the car until our next stop, Güéjar Sierra.

Dom Entering the Keyhole to Alcazaba

Not a Normal Christmas in Spain

Travel is in my blood except two times of the year, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I prefer to be with family. When we lived in the Cayman Islands, it was an easy flight or two away. Not halfway around the world, roundtrip flights and jet lag would crush us. So this Christmas, our closekinit family of six found ourselves in Granada, Spain.

Climbing Granada Neighborhoods with a New Haircut

We made our time together special, and hopefully memorable for the kids. Along Paseo del Salón, they tramped across a winter obstacle course in the chilly weather. We thoroughly explored Alhambra until hunger intervened. Each kid randomly led us around downtown Granada. Castellana provided delicious substance. Game nights filled evenings. Santa found our family in Europe and left presents in front of the kid’s stockings. We attended Christmas morning Mass at Catedral de Granada. If the Karl Marx quote (“La religión es el opio del pueblo”) spray painted on the outside walls are true, Spain was practically drug free.

The Alcazaba in Alhambra

The Red One

Imagine a Roman fortification sitting peacefully at the foot of Sierra Nevada mountains. Build a terrace or two here, a fortified wall there. Now imagine that same fortress serving as a palace under control of the Moors. Add a garden along with symmetrical geometrical designs on the gardens. Mix in a bloody conflict with the Catholic Church and taking ownership back for the Catholic kings in Spain. Allow for a century of disrepair soon followed with restorations, and that is the 21st century Alhambra. That world famous and much photographed UNESCO World Heritage Site.

On Christmas Eve, Dom, Momo, and I set out on a reconnaissance mission, buy Alhambra tickets. Along the way, a clientless barber warmly welcomed us in, and since Dom is opposed to haircuts, a surprise haircut randomly off of the street was the best type.

Climbing up the hill to the entrance, Momo’s three year old energy faded and the prospect of walking another step resulted in tears of exasperation. Once my shoulders requested a brief reprieve of walking uphill (“She ain’t heavy, she’s my daughter!”) with Momo on my shoulders. A meeting of the minds decided to turn around. We would conquer this site later in the day. Bribing Momo with donuts, a classical yet weak parent move, convinced her she had enough energy to walk downhill back to our place.

Later that afternoon, a taxi completed the track to Alhambra’s entrance. Tickets to the revered Alhambra palace were sold out . . . months ago. Generalife (sounds like the name of a company from an informercial) and the gardens provided ample opportunity to gain the essence of Alhambra. Plus, four hungry kids, and just maybe, excitement for Santa Claus, denied further explorations.