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I feel like a dottering old writer this morning, peering out from the balcony of our room, full of energy from a morning cappuccino, pouring through scribbled notes and half-written stories to assemble a few days worth of tardy blog entries. The view in front of me is both inspiring and distracting. Assembling snippets of stories from the past, when a swallow zips past me and brings me back to the present. Once the eyes follow the swifts to the gorge, the cliffs, and the green fields beyond…well, all hope is lost. Like a child that has spotted that one toy from across the room, the mind will not stop until it has played for a bit.

And so, with the long weekend still to tidy up, I'm fixated on Tuesday. Its still early enough that there isn't much traffic through town, except for the occasional Vespa or delivery truck rumbling over the cobblestone New Bridge. So instead, the gorge carries the gurgling of the Guadalevin River 350+ feet below. This low white noise is punctuated by the chirps of birds…mostly the curve-winged swallows, but I can see other shapes flying by or headed for unseen nests on the gorge walls. Mom and Dad would surely have better descriptions than "other shapes", by for me, this will suffice.

Beyond the gorge, the river enters a patchwork of fields and forested areas covering low rolling hills…grasses, rows of crops, olive trees. White houses dot the land. Something to research today: from the right and left, a narrow ridge with steep walls seems to encircle the land in front of us, almost as if it was an ancient caldera, forming a protected bowl. The wall is only broken where the river has carved its way through at the far side…the steep walls bow down to meet it. Or maybe its all an optical illusion. Time will tell.

Walked down from our hilltop to the lowest of three gorge-crossing bridges. The morning light was already hot, as we charted our course carefully from one shady nook to the next. At the bottom, the original entry to the city and the site of an old Moorish defense. Nearby, the ruins of the town's baths, the Banos Arabes. It was customary for the baths in Moorish cities to be located just inside the walls so that outsiders could purify themselves. A fascinating film explained the simple-yet-ingenious system used to bring water up from the river, across a short aqueduct, and into the boiler room. Hot (steam), warm (massage and social), and cold (changing) rooms. For us, the partially buried brick sturcture provided a cool respite from the sun. Only the star-shaped holes in the domed ceilings provided subtle, soothing light…a far cry from the harsh lighting outdoors. Recovered Roman marble columns held up Moorish brick arches…symbolic, since the Moorish baths are adaptations of Roman baths. We felt transported back to simpler times.

A steep climb along sunny stairs from one city wall to the next. Old towers and narrow-ledged walls. Finally out of the heat again, and into the Iglesia Espiritu Santo, from the 15th century. Now we know why the Spanish and Italians REALLY loved their churches…these were sanctuaries in the spiritual AND physical sense! A simple interior with fine gold-leafed ornamentation. Choir music was piped through the sound system. We climbed the bell tower…looked up and saw bells inches from our heads. Time check…two minutes till the hour. Ummmm…do these still ring? Racing out, we were chased down the tower by deafening chimes. Yep…they still ring. (A tasteful warning would have been nice.)

More hot climbing along city walls and cliff edges. At the top had a cold beer at a shady bar in the Town Hall plaza. A guitarist played nearby…soothing Spanish tunes…and Pink Floyd? Yep…Wish You Were Here. How appropriate. Worth a euro in the blue-lined guitar case.

A quick break from the heat, a quick bite to eat, and off to Ronda's famous bullring. The oldest bullring in the world…built specifically for bullfighting in the late 18th century. Unlike the stadium feel of Sevilla's bullring, this one felt intimate. Wandered freely thru the two-tired stands. Out onto the dusty ring with fine dirt the color of saffron. The intricate system of tunnels and sliding doors guiding bulls from pen to battle. A museum of armaments and tack gear. Tourists posing as matador or bull (or town idiot) in the sun-soaked center.

One last stop for the day…the Casa del Rey Moro (the Moorish King's House)…but we didn't go in the house anyway. The gardens and a Moorish staircase down to the river are its attraction. The gardens provide a serene perch overlooking the gorge and hills beyond. A three-level Moorish-style fountain dominates. 'The Water Mine' is a series of stacked chambers and stairs carved down through the ciff to allow water to be carried up from the river from the 14th century. Cold and dark and wet. A long way down. Felt like the Mines of Moria 🙂

With a sun-beaten exhaustion, we spent a quiet evening.

We began today like every other day of this trip…with the ritualistic application of sunscreen. We can't match the warm olive complexion of the Spanish…but at least we don't resemble the lobster-red (or shrimp-pink?) northern Europeans here on vacation. Knock on wood!

Anticipating a hot day approaching 90 by the late afternoon, we planned a walk in the morning and the cold cathedral for later. Ducked quickly into the Museo Arcqueologico, with artifacts dating from pre-historic to Roman to Visigothic to Moors. Then a long walk along and above the Darro River into the Sacromonte district… famous for its cave homes and gypsy community. By noon, we needed a break… Los Faroles was the perfect hole in the wall (more like a cave in the wall) with a small terrace tucked into a white-washed corner overlooking the river and Alhambra beyond. Two cold Alhambra beers and a plate of spicy salami, cheese, and bread…all for 4€. The cheery owner had a wide, gentle smile that never left his face. Dressed in light gray pinstripe slacks, with a cream-colored shirt dotted with roses and a brown vest. He wore a neat brimmed hat (straw) with a black band. He gladly sold a similar hat to a bald customer with a full-sun seat…our picture-perfect perch was under a wide umbrella emblazoned with an Alhambra beer logo.

Plotted a return route that wound upward as the shadows grew narrower. Found a grand vista with panoramic views of the city wall, Alhambra and the snow capped mountains beyond. Re-entered the historic city thru the Puerta Nueva. Back into the Albayzin following winding routes to Plaza Nuevo near our hotel. Water and creamy ice cream to beat back the now-oppressive afternoon heat.

On to the cathedral…the second largest in Spain after Sevilla…check and check. It's becoming hard to describe these cathedrals and not use the same words: immense, ornate, enriching, breathtaking. Our path usually circles around the outer edges, taking in the many side chapels and naves, and other decorative things stuck in every nook. And then its time to dive right in…with enclosed choirs and towering high altars. The amazing things about cathedrals is that when you step back, they are amazing…and when you step forward, the tiniest detail tells a story. I may not understand the meaning of all of the Catholic imagery, but I am moved by the sheer artistry and inspiration.

Leaving the cathedral, we wandered through the local streets, taking in random sights…snapping random photos. Came upon another church, the Real Monestario de San Jeronimo…with a quiet cloister and santuary to explore. Only two other people in the church with us…which made the visit even more intimate and reflective.

We grabbed a late afternoon beer at Six Colors. Dinner was in a plaza near the catheral. Once again, we ate outdoors…as we had every night except for the one rain night. You can really connect with a city when you dine surrounded by it after dark.

A front passed through overnight, bringing a light rain and crisp morning temperatures. Nevertheless, bright sun and clear blue skies greeted us in the morning. Started the day with a pastry and a walk through some of the old city. Wandering the narrow shaded alleys of the Alcaiceria…the old Moorish silk market…it was easy to imagine shoppers following these same step centuries ago. Today, the tiny shops are crammed floor to ceiling with colorful trinkets…mostly with the feel of "tourist quality", but who knows, these could be artisan crafts from Morocco for all I know. Still, the colorful fabrics, varieties of leather, and dull-gray metal jewelry are a sight to see.

Entered the Royal Chapel, the burial place for Isabel and Ferdinand…the Catholic monarchs who united their kingdoms to create Spain…and most importantly for this visit, they retook Granada and the Alhambra…the last stand for the Moors on the Iberian Peninsula. The chapel is located off of the cathedral. It has an enormous high altar, but the Royal Chapel is dominated by the Italian marble tombs of Isabel and Ferdinand and their daughter and son-in-law Juana and Philip. (Philip was called Philip the Fair…how cool it that. I think I will use 'John the Fabulous' from now on and see if it sticks.) A narrow set of stairs take you just below the floor to peer at the simple lead coffins of the monarchs.

From the tomb of the conquering monarchs, we headed up to see their prize conquest…the mighty Alhambra…a sprawling complex perched high above Granada. The climb was steep-but-shaded. The temperature drop made the walk tolerable. While we awaited our alloted time to enter the ticketed portions of the complex, we toured Charles V's Palace…or at least the captivating interior…a two-level, circular courtyard with marble columns.

On to the main attraction…thr Palacios Nazaries…the Moorish palace. This the must-see Moorish sight in all of Spain. The rooms are covered with intricate stucco patterns, punctuated with pinpoint-windows of light. Water runs throughout the complex…you can imagine the water entering thru aqueducts above the city and flowing through many tiny diversions to feed fountains and pools and winding channels. Unfortunately, in the palace, many of the water features were dry…some for restoration and some (most likely) because there are just so many people. And this is where the wonder was lost. We had just come from Sevilla, where the lush Real Alacazar enchanted us…and the Alhambra just seemed crowded. Ah well…it was still beautiful…but perhaps next visit, we will do a nighttime tour…when most of the tourists are long gone. Till then…

A dusty walk through the imposing 13th-century Alcazaba fortifications at the tip of the Alhambra, and a hot walk up through the center of the complex…and we were feeling rather overwhelmed. What a wonderful surprise when we entered the Generalife…with its summer home, tiered gardens, and (most importantly) fountains. Water…water everwhere. Even a staircase with banisters of running water…awesome! THAT was what I wanted. 🙂 As if to say "here is more water", as we were returning to the city along the Cuesta del Rey Chico a gush of water exited the walls of the Alhambra…done running through fountains…back into the Darro River.

We dined on a long plaza along the Darro under a vine-draped canopy. Tapas as we viewed the well-lit Alhambra against a pitch-black sky. Drinks and wonderful loungy music at the cozy El Rincon de San Pedro with the sound of rushing water over a fall just below.

The alarm rang early…too early…but nothing a couple of lattes couldn't handle. Pleasant morning temperatures and a sweet light breeze made for a leasurely walk around the cathedral and along the outer Alcazar wall. Shopkeepers rolled out their displays of fans and flamenco dresses, postcards, and pottery. Picked up a small antique tile from the 1880s in a tiny shop outside the cathedral…used my (very) broken Spanish to communicate with the elderly shopkeeper.

The street in front of the hotel was closed for a bit. Preparations for a short civic celebration for the return of pilgrims to the cathedral. Apparently they rented 30,000€ per week houses along the way…not quite the "visit the flock and find God" kind of pilgrimage-of-old.

The train station was busier than we had seen so far. Something was up. Tourists were joined by news cameras and protesters (we think). Several trains were listed as cancelled, while others (including ours) were delayed. Still, we boarded without incident…two facing window seats for the 3 hour trip through Andalucia.

Graffitti once again quickly transitioned to rolling hills of olive trees…lots and lots and lots and LOTS of olive trees. (The local tap water must shimmer with olive oil.) This leg was on a medium distance train (versus the high-speed AVE lines), so stops were frequent in smaller towns with "real" people. Caught up (finally) on my blog. Spotting a corral of donkeys… awwww, with two frisky baby donkeys… ain't that a kick in the head (go Dean-o). A tiny, dusty soccer field… vacant in the hot afternoon sun. San Francisco de Loja pronounced with a soothing "fran-thithhhhh-co" Spanish Cindy Brady lisp. New houses with satellite dishes…old houses with cows.

Arrived at Granada's sleepy train station on a sleepy cul-de-sac with a hoard of travelers and nary a cab in site. A slow trickle of cabs cleared the group bit by bit…and somehow we were last 🙂 nothing else was sleepy. We passed busy city streets until we hit the narrow cobblestone lane in front of our tiny, historic, Spanish-style hotel. Just five rooms in the hotel…each with a balcony overlooking a babbling stream and the next-door church. A slight head-tilt upwards reveals a bit of the Alhambra… high above… tempting us. Our room has a signature feature we've noticed in southern Spain…enclosed second-story half-balconies jutting out over the street… ours is done up in dark wood, black iron, and wavy windows. They open so you can peer at the sights all around. How cool.

From our home on the edge of the historic Albanzin…the old Moorish section of the city, with its twisting single-lane steets and steep walkways weaving up the hill. We visited a popular perch overlooking the old city and the Alhambra high above. From this vantage, the Moorish palace and fortress look truly massive…an imposing complex of stone building covering a craggy hill. Mountains in the distance still holding onto their snow. The flat plains of Andalucia lay to the right. The scene reminded us both of a scene from Lord of the Rings. A guitarrist played up-tempo tunes and drifters/hippies sold handmade metal and leather jewelry. We visited the overlook twice this aftenoon to find the right light. Truly breathtaking.

Ducked inside the Iglesia de Santa Ana across the street from the hotel. Cool and dark and quiet, the 17th century church had its very own Weeping Virgin…not everyone can take first place.

Decided to embrace the Moorish influences in the town and dine on a sweet and savory mixture of dishes. Chicken backed tender in a tajin with plums and nuts. Couscous with chicken and raisins and sweet onions. Creamy hummus. A yogurt-based desert topped with honey, nuts, and cinnamon. And Arabic coffee with heavy whipped cream. What a wonderful meal… unexpected and new.

Midnight by the time we finished dinner. Had an after-dinner Alhambra beer at Six Colors. Packed full of late-night locals. Lady GaGa and Madonna were paired with quirky Spanish tunes. When we left at 2am, the streets were still teaming with women in hip fashion and men in stylish suits…just gearing up for an even later night. For us… bedtime… to the gentle rumble of tires on the cobblestones beneath our window. .

Italy will always have a special place in my heart, but Spain is certainly a wonderful second. Layers of cultures, friendly people, creative food, a sunny climate, late-night dining and long strolls. What's not to love! We are having such a wonderful, inviting first trip to Spain that its hard to imagine we will not return…soon.

We spent the bulk of the day at one location…one sumptuous location…the Real Alcazar. This is the oldest in-use royal palace in Europe…basically a 14th century makeover of a 10th century Moorish palace by a Catholic monarch. The building and its walled gardens are a feast for the senses. The eyes are captivated by colorful tile floors, towering mosaic walls and elaborate ceilings. The ears are entranced by slow trickling fountains, tall trees blowing the the breeze, and hundreds of nesting doves cooing to their mates. The nose picks up the sweet scent of hundreds of citrus tree flowers, the pungent bite of scattered falled oranges, and freshly watered soil. The skin tingles with the transition from warm sunny alcoved gardens to cool palace rooms to damp royal baths.

We wandered for hours, and circled around to take it all in again.

After hours wandering and staring and interpreting, we indulged with a couple of beers on the roof terrace, watching the swallows swoop overhead for late afternoon insects. The perfect time to try (in vain?) to catch up on some blogging. Or to stare at the carefree birds and have another beer 🙂

Our pre-dinner stroll was through Maria Luisa Park…the site of the 1929 international exposition. The Plaza de Espana and several other remaining buildings anchored the ends of long pathways with dozens of tiny gardens and features. A dozen or so parrots (or some long-tailed green birds) circled together overhead. Old fountains sat dry.

We ended the day with a late tapas dinner, a night time walk, and drinks on the roof. Rinse and repeat…with pleasure.