Granada, Spain
But Granada is made of gold, of silken words woven with almonds, of silver tears in the string of a lute.
Mahmoud Darwish
Granada—It is a city that has inspired songs, poems, dances, theatre, food, and art. It is home to the Alhambra, a copper-colored fortress rising against the backdrop of the snowy Sierra Nevada mountains, and the subject of its own blog post. It is the most beautiful city I’ve ever visited. From afar, I grow fonder of it by the hour.
The word Granada evokes a thousand images—mountains, cobblestones, sunset, gold, caves, Arabic, markets, flamenco, pomegranates, tiles, guitars.
We arrived in Granada by train and bus, a journey that took about three hours from Sevilla. It was just past midday when our cab driver dropped us off in the middle of a narrow pedestrian street, pointed up the hill, and took his leave.
We picked up our bags and started climbing in the direction he pointed, through a steep and narrow set of cobblestone steps that zigzagged between cafes, apartments, and shops. At the top of the stairs, we reached an open plaza with stunning views of the city below us and the Alhambra above us. We ducked inside our hotel’s stone walls to escape the summer sun and immediately, it was twenty degrees cooler. The lobby was a vibrant, cave-like room that had been carved from stone and cement and filled with dozens of plants. It opened out onto a bright courtyard painted the same rusty red color as the Alhambra. Our room, which featured a set of staircases leading to a loft above our bed, included a charming set of windows that opened up to the city.
We changed into a breezier set of clothes to defy the summer sun and walked out into the city to explore. Our stomachs led us through a series of maze-like pedestrian streets into a flurry of shops and cafes, where we found a seat inside one of the bars and enjoyed some refreshments, which included a complimentary plate of paella. Still hungry, we strolled down the block until we reached a true hole-in-the-wall that advertised falafel, hummus, and other vegetarian plates. The owner fed us baba ganoush, pita, tabbouleh, salad, olives, and green tea. We gobbled it down before telling her (sincerely) it was some of the best food we’d had.
Next we explored the street that runs along the river Darro, marveling at the ancient bridges that were built in 1492, and popping our heads in every store. We explored a perfumery where we sniffed a hundred different fragrances and learned about the rose oil extraction process that begins in the deserts of Morocco before making its way to Spain (which gave us ideas for another trip!).
Our wanderings then led us deep into the Albaycin, the old Arab Quarter of Granada. Granada, which sits at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, was home to the longest-reigning Muslim dynasty in Iberia, the Nasrids, beginning in 1236. The Albaycin maintains the urban layout of this Moorish period, with narrow, winding streets snaking their way through an intricate network of shops, restaurants, and homes. We explored the walled orchards and gardens of a typical carmen, which is a freestanding house surrounded by a high wall that separates it from the street, and stared down several of the wells that are characteristic of this district.
Granada is extremely hilly, and we took a lot of breaks to rest under billowy orange trees and enjoy a cup of gelato or an orange marmalade milkshake. Eventually we wandered down from the hills into the heart of the town, where we ran straight into the Cathedral. Impressive as it is, towering above the tiny markets and restaurants that surround it, we found it difficult to grasp its true magnitude because so many stores and cafes were crushed against it. We warily watched a group of Roma (gypsies) try to sell people sprigs of lavender and herbs before we escaped into an alleyway behind the Cathedral.
A brightly colored sheet of linen stretched across the rooftop overhead, snapping in the breeze, and we followed it down a series of narrow pathways that opened up into a absolute maze of merchant stores: The Alcaiceria, or the Grand Bazaar of Granada.
The market was bursting with stalls selling Arabic silks, tiles, fans, spices, ceramics, stained-glass lamps, and other treasures. We agonized over what to take home, and settled on a set of painted tiles, coasters made of carved wood, a ruby-red flamenco fan, and three pieces of art.
On our way home from the market, we stopped at our hotel to change again (I’m telling you, it was hot) before heading back into the streets.
We then began the climb up the hill of Valparaiso through el Sacromonte (“Sacred Mountain”). Sacromonte is a neighborhood in eastern Granada and part of the larger Albayzin. Sacromonte was recommended to us for its stunning views of the Alhambra and Sierra Nevada, but it is also inhabited by the Roma, who traditionally dwell in whitewashed caves nestled into the hillside.
It was picturesque in every way. We hiked and hiked through the hilly ravines and passed dozens of caves, some adorned with shiny copper pots and blue and red doors, others white and stark against the sun. The view at the top, el Mirador de San Nicolas, was indescribable.
Directly across the hillside loomed the Alhambra. We sat on a ledge as the sun started to set and admired the view for almost an hour, before deciding to check out some shops set up around the Mirador. Just a street below, we came across a restaurant, Huerto de Juan Ranas, and popped our heads in.
The restaurant was set up with plush wicker couches designed for 2-3 people facing the Alhambra. We settled into one of the couches, ordered a plate of olives and two glasses of tinto, and admired the view for another hour or so.
The sun was sinking beneath the Alhambra as we began our descent through the Sacromonte, and we enjoyed the cool breeze coming off the mountains. For dinner, we ate a traditional Mediterranean meal and wandered the streets buying more souvenirs and, of course, more gelato.
One of my favorite memories from walking through Granada is trying to avoid the taxis that attempt to barrel through the narrow pedestrian streets. Every time a car would start down the street, people everywhere would duck into a store or flatten their bodies against the wall and suck in to avoid getting run over. We had several near-misses, and they always involved us clinging to each other for balance as we lurched onto someone’s doorstep.
Our first night in Granada ended at the plaza outside our hotel, where a Spanish guitarist was entertaining the café-goers. We listened for a while, with the moon beaming down at us and the lights from the Alhambra flickering above us, before hopping in bed.
