The worst 5 Euros I’ve ever spent

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.

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.