One night we went to a discoteca called La Camboria– it had an outdoor patio with an amazing view of the Alhambra, lit up bright white with spotlights in the night. The club also had an underground sector made of caves. We didn’t make it into that part, as it seemed a little sketchy, but we did end up somehow crashing what appeared to be a high school birthday party on the patio level, as girls were going around handing out goodie bags full of birthday hats, party horns, lays, and streamers. Us crazy Americans made the party for sure.
Getting home that night was another adventure. The Camboria Club is in the Albaicín area of Granada, which is up a steep hill and far away from our hostel. Taking a taxi home would have cost us a fortune, so we decided to walk home together in our safe group of ten. After about half an hour of walking, we split off to go to our various hostels. However, the hostel where three of my friends and I were staying was located on a small side street that we somehow always failed to find. After walking through the narrow, winding streets of Granada for about another forty-five minutes, we came upon the one open coffee shop (Yes, there are very few 24-hour restaurants and shops in Spain. Where are my 24-hour CVS and McDonalds when I need them??) and asked for directions. We finally made it home around six thirty in the morning, just in time for the start of our free hostel breakfast! I was starving by that point in the night (or morning…), and the free breakfast was the perfect end to the night before sleeping until around 3pm that afternoon. It was quite the Spanish experience. I still can’t believe Spaniards can survive staying out so late every weekend.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Granada: Camboria Club
One night we went to a discoteca called La Camboria– it had an outdoor patio with an amazing view of the Alhambra, lit up bright white with spotlights in the night. The club also had an underground sector made of caves. We didn’t make it into that part, as it seemed a little sketchy, but we did end up somehow crashing what appeared to be a high school birthday party on the patio level, as girls were going around handing out goodie bags full of birthday hats, party horns, lays, and streamers. Us crazy Americans made the party for sure.
Getting home that night was another adventure. The Camboria Club is in the Albaicín area of Granada, which is up a steep hill and far away from our hostel. Taking a taxi home would have cost us a fortune, so we decided to walk home together in our safe group of ten. After about half an hour of walking, we split off to go to our various hostels. However, the hostel where three of my friends and I were staying was located on a small side street that we somehow always failed to find. After walking through the narrow, winding streets of Granada for about another forty-five minutes, we came upon the one open coffee shop (Yes, there are very few 24-hour restaurants and shops in Spain. Where are my 24-hour CVS and McDonalds when I need them??) and asked for directions. We finally made it home around six thirty in the morning, just in time for the start of our free hostel breakfast! I was starving by that point in the night (or morning…), and the free breakfast was the perfect end to the night before sleeping until around 3pm that afternoon. It was quite the Spanish experience. I still can’t believe Spaniards can survive staying out so late every weekend.
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