Awaking foggy and mucus headed, the buffet breakfast was the only thing calling my name.
A cup of tea with honey and a plate of fruit - heaven.
Such bliss in such small comforts.
Feeling less then average, Granada's magical streets held little appeal, and so back to bed I went.
Awaking again, relaxed yet still sleepy, I headed down to the pool.
Banter, sunshine and giggles...bliss at home, blessed to be in another country with a dear friend.
A horrendous lunch and a confused middle zen, the room again had me at hello.
A little siesta waiting for a wench to ready herself...
finally we were ready to explore.
Tiny streets, pharmacy confusion and a glam boutique goodbye gift - little else could please us.
A quiet garden with a water feature, a sign for 'Bohemia Jazz Cafe' and a closed looking window...
thankfully not so.
Walls lined with books, old records, musical instruments and jazz posters from the 1930's;
we had found a 'secret wardrobe'.
Faces of locals filled the tables and jazz was literally everywhere.
Men playing saxophones, upside-down tea pots, oversized medicinal looking jars filled with ales and vinegars - clocks in every corner.
It was nothing short of a page out of a new york jazz picture book, yet in the middle of Spain.
Little bulls and Spanish menus the only give away.
Four pianos called my name and guitars quietly strummed.
The trumpet in front of us alerted it's presence.
Feet tapped and people swayed.
Wine was drunk.
What a turn around -
Fogginess to 'Fantastico' with Fabulous Friend!
