There’s an interesting graffito up in the “huerto” (garden) where I exercise every morning here in the Albaycin barrio of Granada. Written on a prominent wall up there, the scrawling reads, “No es ciencia; Magia es de verdad.”
I’d translate that to say, “Magic is truer than science.” It’s an aphorism I’ve come to believe in the light of these months (September 2022-June 2023) I’ve spent in Spain. The time has been filled with magic.
In fact, in some ways, this may be the most magical period of my life that has been full of enchantment.
I’ve come to make friends of street musicians here who live in caves. We’ve smoked weed together. I’ve studied the Mayan Popul Vul with one of them. My friends have introduced me to the wonders of Tarot and of mushrooms. I’ve been harassed by the police because of them and attended a demonstration on their behalf in front of Granada’s City Hall. It’s been wonderful.
Besides that, here in Andalusia, we’ve struggled with a strange Spanish dialect, lived next to a mosque, witnessed bull fights, and have gone to various performances of Flamenco dance.
Then there was our experience of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain, and those trips to Tarifa, Barcelona, Seville, Valencia, and even to the ancient city of Fez in Morocco. Soon we’ll spend a few weeks in Mallorca. In Barcelona, (thanks to the generosity of my son-in-law) I attended a Division One soccer game from luxury box seats with full access to food and drink.
But even among such splendid experiences, last night ranks as especially charmed. My 14-year-old granddaughter, Eva, and I attended a Bob Dylan concert in the nearby Alhambra’s Generalife outdoor theater. Pure magic. (See above photo.)
I mean, there we were in a packed house under the stars within the aura of the 13th century Muslim walled city.
There we were listening to an unparalled artist who in 2016 won the Nobel prize in literature.
He never touched a guitar during his entire performance with a band of five musicians (lead guitar, rhythm guitar, percussionist, bass fiddle, and electric bass). Instead, the Great Man accompanied himself on the piano during the entire performance. He played his harmonica only briefly.
Surprisingly, the performance began with a cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Honkytonk Women.” At one point, Dylan also sang “That Old Black Magic.” Other tunes I recognized included “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” and “You Gotta Serve Somebody.”
The show lasted an hour and forty-five minutes and the only sentences Dylan uttered were “This is such a beautiful place,” and those he bestowed on his accompanists as he briefly introduced each one towards the end of the performance.”
Then he was done. And despite a long, standing ovation, there was no hint of any encore. We all left reluctantly and completely inspired.
And this even though the words Bob “sang” (it was more like recitation), were probably understood by few. Remember, we’re here in Spain, where few speak English well. And I must confess that I understood very little in terms of lyrics. For instance, I didn’t even realize that he sang “Every Grain of Sand” until a friend remarked on its performance.
And yet, and yet. . .. It was all quite wonderful.
When I relayed all of this to my wife, she observed that Bob must have invoked some “angelic spirit.” I believe she was right.
However, I believe that the real reason I enjoyed the show so much was because of the presence of another “angelic spirit.” I’m referring to my granddaughter, Eva, who has always called me “Baba.” She was such a good companion – a spirit far more mature, perceptive, beautiful, and appreciative than her nearly 15 years might allow.
Our shared experience will remain a highlight of our highly blessed and extremely special relationship.
Magic indeed!
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