Goodbye Salamanca, hello Granada.

So after a failed attempt at getting on a bus to Madrid on a sunday night I returned to the hostel, head hanging low, and asked for another night. M arrived shortly after. Her mind filled with the dancers of the night before, she seemed determined not to appreciate the smaller town, which she thought could never provide her with as much excitement as the larger towns she craved. She had recieved a message from Sydney, filled with names of distant clubs, evoking memories of the scene she's still trying to leave behind. At a tapas bar, with an older Australian (more fucking australians!), she made grandiose statements about how all cathedrals look the same, and how smaller towns are boring and talked alot about the scene back in Sydney. I couldn't help but think that she sounded like one of those Bang Gang girls who lives for friday nights. I had to force myself to stop thinking she sounded like a wanker. If it wasn't her, the girl I've admired and loved for a long time, I may have judged her wrongly. I know you'll be reading this and I want you too. I just don't want you to obsess over a scene that will not be obsessing over you. Let go and enjoy yourself. Cut your ties to the Sydeny scene for awhile and if you want to, reconnect when you get back.

Yesterday on the bus to Granada, I met a Canadian girl called Margery (along with Australians, they seem to be the main backpacker contingency). I was buying a can of lollies and she was intrigued so we started talking. I offered her a lolly and so started a beautiful thing. I guided her to the Oasis hostel and she guided me to the warmest Spanish people I've ever met. We met Pili, Heime and Ricardo in front of the cathedral. She´d never met them before, but Pili was her flatemate's flatemate when she lived in Granada for a year. I couldn't speak a word of Spanish but that didn't stop us. I was amazed by how genuinely excited they were to meet us and show us around. They took us up the hill to eat tapas (i tried snails! I thought I was meant to do that in France!) and to look at the spectacular alhambra, lit up at night. They made us close our eyes as they guided us towards the lookout. Ricardo held my hand as i tried to navigate along the cobble street with my eyes shut. Heime started making scary gestures at the Japanese tourists and the poor things all screamed. For the first time on this trip, I didn't feel like a tourist. Last night I was one of the locals, one of the it-crowd. We stopped at one bar with barrels outside and Heime disappeared inside and came out with a round of drinks and tapas for free. He said it was an old tradition that if weary traveller stops into a bar they give him a drink and some food, and some places still honour that tradition. We would never have thought or dared to go into a bar and ask for a free drink for us weary travellers. Although I guess as tourists they would have told us to fuck off or charged us double! Mind you double nothing is still nothing so hey!

&nbs p;