Granada

Madrid is not just the symbolic and political centre of Spain, it is essentially the geographic centre of Spain. It took a long bus ride, endless fields of olive trees passing by in the afternoon sun, to deliver me to the southern town of Granada, located at the foot of the Sierra Nevada mountains and only an hour from the Mediterranean coast. It is here that the Alhambra is found, an ancient Moorish complex in such excellent condition that even in the middle of winter, when the skies are grey and umbrellas are legion, it is necessary to book your ticket a day in advance.

Moorish forces took control of Granada in 711 and it remained part of Moorish Spain (Al-Andalus) for almost 800 years, until the last Sultan of Iberia surrendered to Catholic forces in 1492. Under the terms of surrender the Muslim inhabitants were allowed to continue observing their religion and customs, but only a few years later the Cardinal Francisco Jiménez de Cisneros began a program of forced conversions. This prompted armed resistance from the Muslim community and so the Spanish Crown rescinded the treaty, enforcing a “like it or leave” policy. While many of the Muslim elite emigrated, most of the Muslims remained in Granada and converted to Christianity; their descendants continue to live in Granada and the ancient Moorish quarter has been preserved.

Arriving in a concrete shell of a bus terminal (less ugly by the dark of night) it was relief to enter the heart of the old Spanish town, little bars and shops fighting for space with old churches and open plazas. To one side of the main street, a twisted borough of narrow alleyways led to the ancient Moorish quarter, whose name is sometimes given as Albayzín and which crawls partway up the hill of Valparaiso. From the upper heights it is possible to catch glimpses of the Alhambra, but I instead fell victim to the near-claustrophobic alleyways that defied all geometry and purported maps. Having traced a trail that surely resembled a mess of spaghetti, I eventually found the inevitable neighbourhood of tapas bar and partook in the Spanish custom of a late dinner.

Granada trivia #1: Granada is notable for tapas bars that serve free tapas with each beer; typically, successive drinks purchased at a single bar result in a wider range of tapas being offered. Not once did I buy dinner in Granada.

With stomach full of ham, potato tortilla, olives, tomatoes in olive oil, chorizo and numerous other delicacies, I returned to the maze of Albayzín in search of my hostel. The provided directions did not include a map; it was claimed that a map would be of little use, and already my explorations gave credence to the assertion. The written directions were indeed sufficient and soon I surrendered to a soft mattress, grateful for free tapas and friendly hostel staff.

The next day, steady sunlight and experiences of the previous night meant that I could navigate the warren of Albayzín with some confidence. Narrow paths twisted between ancient buildings that had towered in the night, but in daylight were reduced to human proportions. The aura of mystique remained. Tiny stalls emerged from what had been boarded shutters, trinkets and the heavy scent of incense pouring out onto the narrow streets.

The top end of Albayzín merged into what passes for a typical suburb in Granada. Paved roads, newer buildings and garage roller doors brought an abrupt sense of the modern, but a Spanish charm remained. The grassy summit of Valparaiso reached above the most distant houses, crested by an ancient wall and a beacon to my wanderlust. Narrow dirt tracks offered shortcuts between the white houses and I soon reached this open green space, Sacromonte.

Under the grass lie ancient catacombs that were once Roman mines, and Sacromonte is now famous for the cave houses that have been dug more recently into the hillside. These houses are truly subterranean, the only evidence of their existence being doors set into the earth and occasional tiny chimneys lurking in the long grass. I inevitably brandished my camera and announced myself as a tourist to the empty fields. Another camera-bearing man approached and introduced himself as a local Masters student, studying the people who come to Granada and visit the cave houses. A friendly conversation ensued, and for his study he then photographed me as I took several photos of the dwellings.

I reached the crest of the hill and emerged through an opening in the ancient wall to a cluster of sparsely wooded hills, threaded by several hiking tracks. An aimless wander through the forests led me to a tiny cafe set into the steeply-descending hill, unfortunately closed on the lazy Sunday afternoon. On the other side of the path, a single hammock spanned two alarmingly thin trees and swung perilously over a steep descent, thickets of cactus cascading down to tiny speckles of buildings far below. If not for my intense fear of heights, I may have found the courage to stretch out on the hammock and enjoy the view.

As the dirt paths came to an end without any obvious connection to the nearby streets, I encountered a middle-aged Spanish couple and we took turns climbing over scrub and through holes in wire fences until we reached a road. They then led me through what they insisted was the prettiest neighbourhood of Granada; a sentiment I soon shared with them. Near-luminescent white buildings, intricately decorated in vivid shades of blue, looked over streets so narrow that even the smallest of cars must struggle to squeeze through. I spoke no Spanish and the husband spoke no English, our modest communication relied on the little English spoken by his wife; their warmth and kindness was not dulled by the limits of our conversation.

In contrast to the picturesque neighbourhoods and wilderness I had explored thus far, heading towards the centre of town revealed an unimpressive shopping centre, a cinema restricted to showing the latest Hollywood dross, and a collection of stark modern buildings, uniform in their ugliness. My enthusiasm to explore was tempered by the banal surroundings, and I returned to the streets of tapas bars for a drawn-out dinner that encompassed several establishments.

Granada trivia #2: Granada is also well-known for the prestigious University of Granada, and the city is said to be one of the best three cities in Spain for university students. I leave it to you to decide if the customary free tapas contributes to this reputation.

And so, having saved the allure of the Alhambra for my final day, I set out under grey skies and splashed along stone paths through densely wooded gardens. The ticket office was a small blip surrounded by an enormous car-park, necessary to accommodate the horde of summer tourists but hauntingly empty on this cold and wet winter day. These are the joys of avoiding the tourist season, which the drizzle could not dampen.

The Alhambra is not merely a palace, but rather an expansive citadel where ancient Moorish buildings keep watch over ornate gardens. Perched at the crest of a hill and enclosed within an ancient wall, weathered and time-worn, the grounds of the Alhambra felt a world away from the city of Granada. A quiet and somber air paid tribute to the remnants of a bygone age, visitors walked slowly in small groups, pausing often and speaking in hushed tones. Absent were the ignorant, obnoxious tourists who damage artworks with their flash-photography.

The gardens were laid out elaborately in tiered layers and accompanied by the hypnotic sounds of running water, flowing alongside stairways in open grooves carved into the stone handrails. The sound of running water was ubiquitous, as many of the pathways were also aqueducts, pitched at subtle gradients to carry water from fountain to fountain. Quiet courtyards provided shelter for still, square pools and small orange trees. Balconies peered down into secluded gardens, hedges separating the garden beds, or offered panoramic views of distant landscapes. Narrow stone towers rose from the citadel wall, inside which claustrophobic stairways rose through the dimly lit innards and led to open rooftops, offering a complete panorama of Granada in front, and the Sierra Nevada mountains behind.

Despite the seductive charm of the expansive gardens and the outer buildings, it was the heart of the Alhambra that proved truly captivating. Buildings constructed in the 14th century, most every interior surface sculpted, carved, tiled or painted to an amazing level of detail. Arabic calligraphy was worked into most of the artwork, and many of the ceilings were adorned with celestial carvings and sparkled with gold leaf. The Alhambra is the culmination of extensions by subsequent Muslim rulers, all of which share a common theme of “paradise on earth” where plain exteriors belie ornate and exquisite interiors.

In amongst the Moorish palaces lurks the palace of Charles V. This palace, erected in 1527, was allegedly built by the Roman Emperor Charles V, but this amateur historian suspects he played no part whatsoever in its construction. Much of the Muslim artwork was damaged or removed outright, with portions of the winter palace being rebuilt in the Renaissance style. Thankfully, the Alhambra was “discovered” in the 19th century and restoration works were performed by three generations of Spanish architects. The end result was one of the most fascinating experiences of my travels.

Ultimately I was driven from the Alhambra by hunger, only to suffer unbelievably slow table-service in a small Arabic restaurant. Conversation with fellow backpackers at a nearby table provided some relief while the ingredients for my meal were surely planted, grown and harvested. And so my time in Granada came to a close. Despite sleeping through my alarm early the next morning, I woke just in time to catch the morning bus to the port town of Algeciras, on the southern tip of Spain. My appetite whetted by the Moorish influences of Granada, the irresistible draw of Muslim Morocco beckoned.