The grass along the banks of the Rio Darro hung tall and still under the roasting midday sun. Below the dipping reeds the water flowed crystal clear without hint of turbulence, like air with the viscosity of motor oil. A group of orange and white cats passively surveyed the river from under the drooping stalks along the bank. They lived as if in a vacuum free of responsibility, no place to be, nobody to please. The lethargy that underscored their daily affairs was a natural defense against Granada’s heat. The locals knew this as well as the cats, and they responded to the searing heat with a daily siesta within their whitewashed homes or in the shade of the jacarandas that grow along the rio.