Granada! Oh, and we hit a car.

Lured with warm chocolate croissants and the promise of coffee, we woke up to Joan's stirring at the ungodly hour of 6am. We were, however, on our way to a very celestial palace: the Alhambra.

The Alhambra is the most magnificent example of Islamic architecture. It's a Muslim fortress/castle that became a Christian palace, dilapidated over the years, housed Washington Irving (who, unfortunately, wrote a chronicle of his time there which, annoyingly, is the narration of the audio guide), became to captivate tourists and historians, and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of Spain's top tourist destinations. This is evidenced in the fact that at 9am on a very hot Thursday in August, there was a line winding and winding and winding through the grounds, full of visitors who seemed to be more than willing to wait for hours to get into the palace.

But it's absolutely worth it. I think pictures will suffice...

Additionally, we hit a car today. Whilst looking in vain for street signs, searching for friendly pedestrians, attempting to locate ourselves on our awful maps, fighting, being confused, suffering from the lack of air conditioning in the back of the car (that was just Cate and me, everyone else seemed to get a nice breeze), and basically just being utterly LOST, we ran into a government car. There were no ramifications, literally or metaphorically.

Some of us go to Africa, some of us see Africa

Somewhere beteween teh Finca weehours of 5am and 7am, our most valued comparion, Carl, went to Africa. Seriously.

Off he drove in his "Po" (known to VW as the "Polo") to Algeciras, the Spanish port providing gerried to Morroco. He planned (even earlier this morning) to spend his day touring Tangier's many museums, historical sites, and other points of culutral interest (ahem, bars). We hope he comes back soon.

As for the Johnsons, today we remained on the Continent. After a lazy breakfast, we left the Finca at noon for a gold course and the beach. We drove to Fuengirola (Fu-en-gear-oh-la), past Marbella (Mar-bey-ay). It's somewhat surprising we aren't stayind in Marbella as it's the posh resort town for Britain's elite and select trashy Americans (Britney just left). Brendan and Joan went golfing. Steve, Cate, and I tanned, swam in the Med without fearing for sharks, and read Hello UK whilst sipping Coocacoola Li-eghts. It was an ideal afternoon.

After we met up, we went to Gibraltar in an effort to outdo Carl. We SAW Africa! Gibraltar is a massive rock, totally sheer. There's nothing in the town but we really did see Africa - huge mountains rising up through the steamy Mediterranean mists. Driving home with petrol station gas and snacks, we decided we can't wait for someone to ask us how many continents we've seen.

Coin

The Johnsons plus Chart have arrived at the lovely Finca Tranquila in Coin.

Driving along the very long highway from the coast inland to our casa, we mistakenly picked out many beautiful homes we thought might be our Finca. Our Finca, however, is impossible to spot from the road. Perhaps because it isn´t on a road. Rather, it is at the end of a one lane dirt path after a very steep hill (hell?) which we must walk up because our trusty little rental car can´t quite manage the climb. The Finca itself makes up for the trouble of getting to it...

More descriptions, backlogged blogs and pictures coming soon! Must be off to explore Coin.

Africa, from a distance

Today we attempted to see Africa. Driving to Ojen, a town perched in a gorge, reputed to boast views of the Morrocan coast, we (thanks to Steve, Joan, and Carl's blatant desire for coffee) instead prematurely stopped at a three star eco hotel. From its balcony, we pretended to see Africa through the considerable haze. We left for Mijas, a fancier Santa Cruz, full overly decorated and certainly overburdened burros and their chain smoking drivers who encourage British children to go for rides, leather goods stores of imitation bags, awesome views of the Costa del Sol, and perhaps most importantly, cafes stocked with ice cold Cruzcampo. We came back to swim after stopping at Mercadona (the Spanish safeway) for a night of beers, burgers, and ice tea for Cate.

Exploring Coin

Although the Finca doesn't have an address, it is located in Coin, so this morning we decided to explore our little city. Coin is hilly and, though not as picturesque as some of the other villages, still charming. Brendan and I found an Internet cafe while the family explored. We finished after 30 minutes and €0.43 to find them on the square, having been waiting for us for 20 minutes. Despite its seeming lack of activity, Coin is clearly home to many finca tranquilas.

We came home for a late lunch and quick swim before driving to Ronda, a white village hailed as the most beautiful town in Andalucia. It's no wonder, really, because Ronda is somehow perched over a seemingly infinite gorge. There's not as much to do in Ronda as there is to see. High up in town, the view could be straight out of Lord of the Rings. In the old Muslim quarter, Joan was excited to see the Cathedral. Carl bravely entered for several minutes, too. Everyone was happy to find a cute little cafe for drinks and tapas before we headed home.

Maaadreeed (condensed)

Because we didn't have internet access and because I am lazy, Madrid blogging will be condensed into this entry.

I arrived in Madrid Wednesday, sleep deprived but armed with several Diet Cokes. I took the Metro to an up and coming neighborhood in Madrid (so says NY Times Travel) and got breakfast. I went for a long walk all the city and wandered around til I met the family at the apartment for dinner.

Thursday, we woke up and explored. Brendan (with the help of Lonely Planet) led us on a tour of the Moorish and later royal quarters of Madrid. We stopped at a market for lunch. We shopped, ate, watched Spanish TV, and passed out.

We toured the Palace (verdict: Versailles-like, not the best tour) then visited the Reina Sofia and the Prado museums. At night, we got dinner at a supposedly very chic restaurant. Brendan, despite his supposed fluency, forgot how to say "check." Luckily, I remembered (from when I awkwardly ate and drank alone Wednesday) that it was "la questa." Unfortunately, I was wrong. The waiter burst out laughing: he asked for "the quest." The term is "la quenta." Brendan must have been so humiliated.

Lack of language skills

We are leaving in two weeks. We do not speak Spanish. Or Castillian. I do not speak Portuguese. However, we are fairly confident in our handmotion skills.