"Tales of the Alhambra"

A quick back-story: I have known Arturo for three years now. We met on the first night of my first trip to Paris. A friend and I were sitting at a bar enjoying a drink when the two men next to us engaged us in conversation. At the end of the night we exchanged numbers thinking there might be a possibility of meeting up later in our trip but little did we know that years later we would still be in contact with them. Arturo was one of these men.

When I first moved to Spain I was overwhelmed by all the unfamiliarities I was being faced with but above all I was lonely and missed my friends. I was confiding my woes to my lovely and dear friend Megan one evening over an impromptu Skype date when she suggested that I get in touch with Arturo to see if he could come for a short visit. When asked he readily agreed and the weekend getaway planning commenced.

For one reason or another it wasn’t until my trip to Paris that Arturo and I were finally able to choose a date for our travels. Over glasses of wine and the sound of muted French conversations we found a weekend that worked for both of us and would allow us ample time to tour the city he most wanted to see, Granada.

Oct 22-24. Unfortunately, our trip didn’t start out the way either of us hoped it would. Through some mishap in communication (which I blame on the abundant amounts of wine being consumed during the planning process) Arturo and I each finalized the remaining aspects of our joint vacation… on two different weekends. In retrospect I should have known that finding a weekend that worked for both of us had been too easy that night in Paris. I realized that our trip was being planned for different weekends only two days before Arturo was to fly into Spain. I scrambled to buy Alhambra tickets and make hotel reservations at the last minute (as I had planned both of those things for the following weekend). Thankfully, all of this rearranging was easy enough to accomplish and two days later Arturo and I were on our way to Granada.

My first impression of Granada was that it was a city full of charming, narrow streets that wound their way through the historic city while providing occasional glimpses of the Sierra Nevada’s and picturesque views of the Alhambra sitting perched on its cliff.

My second impression of Granada was that it was a city full of roads so small that they should have been designated one-way streets, twisting their way through the confusing heart of a city where you were more likely to lose a side mirror than catch a glimpse of the Alhambra poised above you.

My third impression of Granada was that it was a city with too few parking lots, too many slow buses making frequent stops and always seemingly in front of you, claustrophobia inducing death traps known as roads that snaked their way through limbo. And the Alhambra? Forgot about it, I no longer cared. My only thought was to find the hotel, a bathroom, and a place for Arturo to smoke.

After an hour of driving the same 10 kilometer stretch of road, and before I did massive damage to my car or my traveling companion, we were finally able to find our hotel (which we had driven in front of at least four times during our expedition) and track down a parking garage where we could stow my car for the duration of the trip. It was the best feeling in the world to give someone else the keys to my car and walk away from it.

Thankfully, our trip became exponentially more pleasant once we were finally able to abandon the car. As we walked along the streets, so much easier to navigate by foot, my first impression of Granada gradually returned. A few hours later, after a delicious dinner, a few restorative cigarettes (Arturo), and a bottle of wine (myself), I found that my initial impression had been completely re-established and would remain for the rest of our trip.  An additional bottle of wine later and I couldn’t remember where I was, who I was with… or why I couldn’t find my keys.

The next morning dawned just a little too early and bright. I wanted curl up and fall back to sleep until afternoon or, at the very least, be served a large cup of strong, dark coffee in bed.  As luck would have it, I got neither of those things. Instead I pulled myself together, persuaded Arturo out of the room, and headed out into the day. We had tickets to visit the gardens of the Alhambra and I wasn’t about to forfeit our entry time just because we were a little tired.

Half way up the path that led to the Alhambra I nearly changed my mind and retreated back to the hotel. I hadn’t realize how much of a climb we would encounter and without fortifying water and coffee I was in no condition to be hiking up the side of a mountain (and by mountain I mean small hill- but my perception was skewed at the time). Mercifully, Arturo spotted a gift shop and in moments we were walking through the gates of the Alhambra with coffee and bottles of water in hand. I don’t know if it was walking among the beautiful gardens or the rejuvenating effects of the beverages but I rallied and ended up spending a very enjoyable morning touring the grounds.

I hate to admit that before my arrival to Spain I had a very superficial knowledge of the Alhambra. Meaning I had heard the name once, maybe twice before, but didn’t know what it was or even where it was located. For those of you who, like me, don’t know much about the Alhambra, never fear, here is a very condensed history lesson (tip: skip to next paragraph if history isn’t your thing). Apparently there have been various forts and buildings on this site since the 9^th century but the Alhambra as we know it today did not come to life until the 13^th century when the first king of the Nasrid Dynasty (the last Moorish empire in Spain) chose it as the site for his royal residence.  When the Nasrid Dynasty was conquered by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in 1492 (yes, the same year that Columbus sailed the ocean blue) portions of the fortress and palace were used by the Christian rulers. Some changes were made to the structures but generally most of the site’s Moorish architecture remains. It became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1984.  

The Alhambra is the most visited tourist attraction in Spain and due to conservation efforts the number of people allowed admission per day is limited.  It’s best to reserve tickets in advance because, while you can purchase tickets at the ticket office, there is always a line and your long wait will not necessarily guarantee you entry. Since I was forced to amend our viewing date, I was unable to secure a ticket to visit all three attractions as they were sold out of visiting times to see the Alcázar (palaces) and the Alcazaba (fortress). We had to settle for enjoying the gardens and Generalife.

The photos that I have from that morning definitely don’t do the site justice but hopefully they will give you a basic idea of what the area looks like.

The use of water is a special element of the gardens

Carefully manicured hedges leading to the Generalife

Inside the Palacio de Generalife, where the Moorish kings went to "get away from it all"

Me and Arturo in the Generalife

The rest of the day we spent walking through the Albayzin district which was once the Moorish quarter of the city. I quickly noticed that all the hippy and artistic people of Spain seemingly converged in this area. The smell of pot greeted us around every corner and a young man called down from his window asking us if we would like some “herbs.” Don’t worry, Dad, we declined. The Mirador de San Nicolas, an outlook providing spectacular views of the Alhambra, was filled with musicians and street vendors selling their wares. My favorite part of the afternoon was happening upon a busker who was playing a Spanish interpretation of Ben Harper’s “Burn One Down.” After that, Granada, and more specifically the Albayzin, had won a special place in my heart.

The steets of the Albayzin

Arturo buying gifts at Mirador de San Nicolas

Before our day was over we made a stop at the cathedral and then had a delicious dinner… and maybe another bottle or two of wine. Another thing that made me fall for Granada, besides its excellent selection of red wines, was that I never once had a meal that involved Jamon (the Spanish have a love affair with this cured ham and I find it making an appearance on most breakfast, lunch, and dinner plates). Instead, there was a lot more North African influence in their cuisine. 

Cathedral of the Incarnation

Our last day was spent strolling through the Albayzin neighborhood again, getting lost in the maze-like quality of its streets and then finding our way once more.  We stopped in a tetería (Moorish tea room) to rest on heavily pillowed benches and enjoy aromatic blends of exotic tea. Somehow we managed to find the Mirador de San Nicolas again and enjoyed one last expansive view of the mountain-framed Alhambra and the city of Granada laid out below.

View of the Alhambra