What to make of our own messes? We'd planned to visit Granada and Linny had found an appealing place to stay. We thought it would be easy to find, but instead we found ourselves lapping the city on its freeways at rush hour and with truly terrible driving instructions from our phone GPS.
Eventually, we learned that the map thought we were in Mexico when we tried to use the place where we were lingering, Santa Fe, as our starting point. We were so lost and so late that we gave up our reservation and stayed the night in Santa Fe, which purports to be only 10 minutes from Granada. Maybe. This was still interesting because we had confirmation that the American author Washington Irving is probably better known in southern Spain than in the States. Monuments. Roads. Signs that he slept in the same room.
We had a pleasant walk, a crappy dinner, and a good sleep, but the next day was awesome. The countryside became wilder and more beautiful as we moved down secondary roads toward the Andalusian mountains where the white towns hang on the cliffs.
