Getting screwed in a Granada Taxi

The worst 5 Euros I’ve ever spent

Street in Granada

Exit the bus from Sevilla, enter a Granada city bus. I know I’m supposed to get off at the Cathedral so I peer out the windows and hop off at a big stone structure.

Oops, turns out that was a high school. Rookie American mistake.

Carrying my backpack, orange messenger bag and purse, I walk up and down Gran Vía de Colón alternating my gaze from the screenshot directions on my phone to the street signs in Spanish – Calle Cárcel Baja is nowhere to be found.

I interrupt a man eating alone outside a Telepizza and use what Spanish I have to ask for directions. He points and explains. I watch his hands but don’t listen; I really need to stop doing that.

A few more laps of Gran Vía and I’m over it.

A taxi squeezes down a stone alley and drops me off – pointing and telling me to continue up a street his car can’t fit in. Five minutes up and the empty stone courtyard sure doesn’t feel like the right place, but what do I know? A few minutes ago I thought a high school was a Cathedral.

I continue my ascent through the Arabic-influenced maze of a suburb until I reach the top of a hill. The view is pretty but this is definitely nowhere close to Oasis Backpackers Hostel.  A woman and a long-haired man carrying a bowling ball emerge in the empty landscape and I ask for help. They just advise me to keep walking down and I’ll hit the main street.

View of Granada

This is definitely the most lost I’ve ever been. My backpack/messenger bag/purse utility combination with all my possessions just makes me sweaty and annoyed.

 Good thing I can realize this is funny while it’s unfolding

I wind through rocky streets and alleys – all of which are completely abandoned – until I start to hear the sounds of the city again. I follow the orchestra of traffic and am elated to have at least made it back to civilization.

Too bad I’m exactly where I was before the cab driver picked me up.

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