Hippies and Gypsies in the Sacromonte

What is in Granada? The Alhambra, of course! It is, indeed, a beautiful, enchanting place. Full of courtyards and fountains, columns and arches, orange trees and blooming flowers. There are ceilings of magnificent inlaid wood, or plaster moldings. It is quite the romantic palace where one can imagine eastern princes gathered, smoking from a hookah, and the women hidden away in the harem.

It is definitely a place you should see. But you can hear about it from anywhere. I´d like to tell you about the Sacromonte.

Granada is in the Sierra Nevada (of Spain, of course, not of California...). The Albaicín, or old moorish part of the city, is built on the foothills of one small peak, while the Alhambra crowns an adjacent hill. The modern part of the city spreads out beyond with its highrises and office buildings to the foothills of another nearby peak.

The Sacromonte barrio is higher up the hill beyond the old Albaicín. If I understand correctly, this is the area that once housed the gypsy population (perhaps still does, to an extent), but which now is largely overtaken by the hippie crowd.

This morning I walked up the hill to the top of an old wall that runs along the hillside. What a great view of the city! There were some other tourists up there with their cameras; some locals, perhaps, with a picnic lunch; and a hippie with his dog, who had stopped to read for a bit on the wall. I stopped, as well, to take in the view and to write in my journal. When I continued on, I discovered, that behind the wall were some paths through the hills. Some were horizontal, zigzagging along the hillside, while others climbed upward. I wandered along a few, through some short pine trees, reveling in the whisper of the wind in the pines (probably my favorite sound) and enjoying a pine-tree-spicy, dusty smell that I don´t think I´ve smelled since the Sandia mountains of Albuquerque. Indeed, the landscape, as in many parts of Spain, reminded me of New Mexico. I saw many patches of prickly pear cactus, as well as clumps of plants with wide, thin, pointy leaves, that look like something related to yucca.

My wanderings back down to the city took me through a part of the Sacromonte known as the "caves." This is the part where the hippies, and before them, the gypsies, live. I had´t seen them up close before. They are a little like caves, but more like huts built into the side of the mountain. Some have brick walls, some just earth. They seem to be in varying states of disrepair. Some have trash or rusting metal chairs in the front. Some have tattered fabric screens blocking the front. As I walked along the dusty path in from of these dwellings, I passed by groups of people gathered in front of the doorways, sitting, drinking, talking--all in good Spanish fashion.

These people certainly look like hippies, with their dreadlocks, and their clothes--here very Moroccan-inspired with colorful baggy pants gathered around the ankle with elastic, clashing shirts, scarves, one or two dogs at their side. The guy at the hostel tells me that these people aren´t the hippies of the 60s; they have a different philosophy. They don´t do anything productive, nor do they live off the land, he says. It´s hard to say. Many are buskers in town, and I passed by one place today with a sign that said "productos orgánicos," organic products. Certainly, they have an alternative lifestyle.

At any rate, it is something I have not encountered before. The dirt-floor caves in the mountainside overlooking the city have a certain mysterious appeal, though. What is it like to live there, I wonder? Are there still traditional gypsy hold-outs among the dreadlocked new arrivals? At night, when I have been warned one should think twice about venturing up there, are there still traditional flamenco gatherings, where the wailing songs and the strummed guitar strings meet the stomping heels and graceful swaying hips of the dancers?

I´m idealizing of course, but haven´t you ever dreamed of running of with a band of gypsies?