City of pomegranates

[NOTE: first of a series of posts describing my recent journey to Andalucia in the south of Spain with my friend Barry from California.]


Granada: the name evokes the mystery and grandeur of the authentic Spain, the Spain of flamenco, bullfights, Moorish palaces, olives, and oranges. Indeed, we were on the trail of Moorish Spain in the era before the Catholic Kings, Ferdinand and Isabela, banished the Muslim conquerors on the Iberian Peninsula, ending centuries of Islamic rule and sweeping the long-established Jewish population from its territories.

'Granada' means pomegranate, and Granada is named for the three pomegranates on the mighty gate that stands guard over the entrance to the Alhambra, the legendary fortified complex dating from the 11th century.

Present-day Granada is a serene, lyrically beautiful city of small squares, gitanos (gypsies), guitar makers, university students, Arabic baths, and dignified elders, dominated by the Alhambra and spanning both banks of the quiet Darro river. A walk through the narrow, steep maze of the Sacromonte - the old gitano quarter - is punctuated by the ruffle of guitar chords from the open doors of artesanal guitar makers or floating down from a second-story window where a guitarrista is practicing; by a spontaneous outburst of hoarse, complex flamenco song from a dark young girl crouched in a doorway with her little brother.

We are to be two days in Granada, one of them to be spent navigating the sprawling complex of the Alhambra. We have secured lodging in a clean, modest hostal in the former Jewish quarter. All of the cities we will visit in Andalucia will have a former Jewish quarter, their ancient sinagogas and baths faint echoes of once-thriving communities where three cultures coexisted more or less in peace. Our room overlooks a bustling square ringed with bars and second-hand clothing stores that is criss-crossed by students hurrying to their university classes.

Soon after arriving, a happy discovery: Every drink ordered in a bar comes with a free tapa, or little snack! We immediately feel welcomed. According to tradition, tapas originated in just this way, a savory mouthful on a small plate placed on top of the drink. ('Tapa' means 'cover.')

We have arrived on the heels of an uncharacteristic cold spell, and we bundle up and head out to sample the local cuisine. In a tiny restaurant we are introduced to a version of gazpacho (originating in Cordoba) called almorejo, a thick and creamy salmon-colored cold puree of bread, tomatoes and garlic garnished with hard-boiled egg and slivers of ham.

We have pre-purchased our entrance tickets to the Alhambra, probably Spain's most-visited monument. Its red-tinged walls and towers loom over the city, framed by the snow-covered peaks of the Sierra Nevada. To read about its history, click on this link: http://www.andalucia.com/cities/granada/alhamhistory.htm. We set out early in the morning and expend much shoe-tread and camera battery life wandering nearly all day amongst the battlements, towers, gardens, palaces, fountains and stone paths that form this amazing complex. We marvel at the extensive system of sluices, canals and gates that regulate the flow of water for cultivation and undoubtedly in ancient days, human consumption and bathing as well as filling the many fountains and pools. We are amazed by the different architectural styles ranging from pure Islamic through mudejar (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mudejar) to Renaissance. We wander alone in the crowds with our audio guides and the words of Washington Irving, whose residency within the Alhambra walls inspired "Tales of the Alhambra."

Thoroughly footsore from traipsing over large, uneven cobblestones, we book a soak at the Baños Arabes, a faithful reproduction of a Moorish bath house. The long, shallow hot mineral pool reflects the flickers of dozens of candles as does the exquisitely tiled, vaulted ceiling. Silence reigns, broken only by discreet splashes and the sharp intake of breath accompanying a dip into the cold plunge. We sip hot, sugary mint tea and are blissed out.

By the next morning we have settled the question of where to spend our one unscheduled night between Granada and Cordoba. Havingprovisioned ourselves with excellent local salami, cheese and bread, we board a comfortable coach bus for Ubeda, a small city in the heart of olive country - Jaen province - renowned for its gorgeous Renaissance square.

Click here to see more photos from Granada: