So, a while back a new friend and I decided to take a trip up into the gypsy hills of Sacromonte. This friend is named Marcos, is Chilean, and the way we met is also a story. One, I believe I have not recorded yet, so I will start there.
Paula and I took a trip to Malaga, one of the biggest cities in the south several weekends ago. It was at one time the coolest trip and the most horrible I have taken here yet. This could be classified as the coolest trip thusfar because Marcos and Mehdi (his Moroccan best friend) started talking to us at the bus stop and invited us to the Alcazaba which is the Malaga version of the Alhambra. Very interesting conversations ensued, as well as very interesting food trying. Mehdi suggested we try eating raw almonds off of a tree...which I did...which I regretted. He knew so much about plants it was incredible. As for other cool things that happened, Paula and I had done no planning so we had to "hostel hunt," which turned out very well in the end. We found a beach front one for $25 dollars a night. There, we met two guys, one of whom was from Madison, Wisconsin and actually goes to Lacrosse. Imagine that! All the way across the world and we bumped into some fellow midwesterners. We also got to eat some GREAT Italian food. As for the next day, it was a perfect beach day. All greatness, but then, I was groped. A crazy gypsy man grabbed me in plain sight, on a main street, in front of a restaurant. It was scary, and horrible, and I screamed and swore at him, but he ran away. Anyway, overall it was mostly a wicked great trip. And that is how I met two of my favorite people in Spain. Marcos and Mehdi, Mehdi and Marcos.
So, to get back to the story that this blog is named for. One day, Marcos invited me to explore the hills where he and friends like to go and look out on the Alhambra and the city. What I didn't understand was to get to this lookout we would have to traipse through the gypsy neighborhoods that are known for being, well, dangerous. Tourists are told not to ever bring anything valuable, never go at night, and women especially should not walk there alone. This neighborhood isn't normal though. The houses are man-made caves that have been carved into the hills. From what I hear, there is a man whose job it is to carve these out, and it costs about $1500 euros or $2200 dollars. I did not feel any danger whatsoever on our way up because Mehdi and Marcos happen to be friends of some of the gypsies around there. I met a few, and the stereotype that gypsies have extremely raspy voices turns out to be 100% true.
We spent several hours soaking up the honey and lemon sun, the graham cracker crust Alhambra, and the bittersweet greens of all the surrounding trees and brush. Once the sun started to set though, we realized it was probably a good idea to head down the mountainside though because we had no flashlight, and the idea of streetlamps in a place like that is laughable. Unfortunately, it was too late. It not only had gotten dark, but all the gypsies had gone inside, locked up, and put their guard dogs out. Let me tell you, I am not scared of dogs, but that night I almost died of a heart attack. They were not happy when we would walk by the front of their cave.
I was hyperventilating after getting barked and lunged at various times, but the worst was yet to come. My heart dropped when I saw the large German Shepherd up ahead. The cliff dropped off this point though so we couldn't step further away as we so badly wanted to. His growls were terrifying. He showed his teeth and started lunging and half circling around us. I wasn't sure if it was a bluff or not, but I remembered that you should never run from a dog so I took deep breaths, power walked and tried to act as if I was not scared. It didn't work. I was about to break down in tears when Marcos fronted with the dog and told me to go. I didn't want to leave him there but I had no idea what to do if the dog attacked. I went up ahead and a few seconds later I heard him running up behind me. At that point we must have been out of the dog's territory because he did not follow. We half ran down the rest of the mountain and when we made it to the bottom I was shaking and felt sick from the intense amount of adrenaline that had been coursing through my body. This is probably the most terrified I have ever been in my life. All I could think of was how it would feel to get attacked by a dog, and how I would never be able to get it off. Anyway, at least it makes for a great story in the future. Although, I will never feel relaxed around german shepherds again.
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