I was sad to leave Malaga. The town wasn't that interesting, but the hostel was great and I had made some really good friends while I was there.
The bus to Granada didn't take long and in no time I was in the middle of Granada. I hadn't remembered to write down the name and address of my hostel, so I ducked into an Internet cafe to find it. Once that I was done I attempted to get a cab, but none of them would let me in. I couldn't figure out why.
I headed back to the internet cafe to print out a map. It looked to me like it was quite a walk, also, many of the streets didn´t have names on them. I had spoken to the guy who worked at the cafe before and I thought he had a good handle on English. I asked him how long of a walk it would be as none of the cab drivers would take me. He misunderstood and took my map. On the back he wrote ¨quiero ir¨and the name and address of my hostel in big block letters. He told me to give that to a cab driver.
Feeling a bit like Paddington Bear I tried the cabbies again. Still no luck. The only thing to do was take my crappy map and head up the hill. About 20 minutes into my treck it began to rain. I hated Granada at that minute. My back hurt, and I was getting wet. All I wanted was to get to the hostel and put everything down. Eventually I ended up in a square. I kept asking everyone but they all just shook their heads and walked by. Eventually a group of Dutch travelers walked by with a map. I asked if I could barrow it for a minute. They asked how long I had been walking with my pack and when I replied almost 2 hours they all seemed to really want to help me.
My little street wasn´t on the map, and one of the Dutch women pulled out her TomTom. She then walked me to the hostel. The street was so tiny that we could not have walked next to one another. Thankfully, this was the correct street. I was incredibly greatfull for their help, and thanked then.
Terripin Station is a very small place run by an American guy named James. He gave me a tour of the area to help get rid of my confusion. James also told me that he is at the hostel about 23 hours a day and that if he wasn´t there to let people in he was always back very quickly. I wanted to ask him how he could stand sitting around all the time, but didn´t.
It was quite late in the day by the time I had found the hostel and I had only had two pieces of bread. While I was making myself dinner an Aussie and an American came in . The Aussie, Hannah, was really nice, but Audry the American was a sponge. At one point of the night she asked if I would be cooking the rest of my food and if so, she wanted to help me eat it.
Eventually the three of us went out for tapas. The nice thing about tapas in Granada is that they come free with a beer. The bad thing was that both of the girls were veggie and we had to share whatever we had.
Audry had a friend coming later and went off with him when he arrived. Hannah and I simply headed back to hang out at the hostel before calling it a night.
While we were there James was smoking hash almost non-stop. I guess thats how he spends hours a day in a cold room with no tv. I was sort of wishing that moving to another place was an option, everything else in the city was either full or very expensive.