I got up [too] early to get to the Alhambra on time. They have very strict rules on getting there on time, and you're only allowed in the palace for 30 minutes. I had a rough night sleep because I was feeling kind of sick, so I wasn't in the best mood getting there.
I walked to the palace. It was a lot better inside than the stark box-shaped exterior. It was beautiful. So beautiful, but I couldn't feel the beauty the way I usually do - in that way that I'm able to absorb it and feel it all through my body, in a way I hope you can read in my words. It just wasn't there, and I don't know why. It was so beautiful. But for the first time I felt like just another tourist - snapping photos and moving on, without even looking back over my shoulder. I knew it, I knew I wasn't really all there, but I couldn't change it and I didn't know why. I still don't know why. It's such a shame. It was so beautiful.
I moved on to the Generalife, and I skipped the Alcazaba altogether. It makes me angry at myself to think about. How could I not go? I can't explain it to myself, but I do remember how I felt, and I just didn't feel myself there. It was so strange.
I ended up going back into town and walking through the shops again. I bought some spices. In one store I started talking to some guy who only spoke Spanish. I agreed to meet up with him later (in public, of course) because I had nothing better to do. In the mean time, I went back to the hostel and decided to do some reading up on the rooftop terrace. I was surprised to find a bunch of people up there. They were all listening to music and chatting about their travels and drinking beers. I was so jealous. I wanted Sam to be there. I pictured us up there, soaking in the hot sun and hanging out with all these fun and interesting people. They weren't like the fake and ignorant Americans I'm surrounded by all day in Barcelona - they were real, genuine, interesting. But I just sat there reading, half-listening to their conversations, and looking ahead patiently to the day when I can join them.
I met up with the guy from the shop, hoping for some equally interesting conversation. Instead, I found yet another annoying guy who mistakes my silence for some kind of coy flirtation, who fills the silence with comments intended to impress me and oh-so-original compliments about my beautiful eyes/hair/whatever. It seems like I find this guy more and more these days, or maybe I just notice it more now. The way they try to sound intelligent for the sake of trying to sound intelligent and the way they never really listen to me. The way they only chuckle when I attempt to say something of substance and reply "you're so beautiful." Please. First of all, I'm not that freaking beautiful - you're just happy because you're unattractive and uninteresting and you seem to think that I think otherwise and can't see through your stupid comments. I can. Leave me alone.
Needless to say, I was purely irritated by the time I got on the train home. But in the train were some very nice Spanish woman who did have genuine things to say and we chatted until I fell asleep in my little traincar bunkbed. That part was good.
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