Embracing La Alhambra's Ambience

I had it all wrong. Likening La Mesquita (mosque) in Córdoba to  La Alhambra in Granada is like comparing a chrysalis to a butterfly; they are similar, but very different. Its immensity, design, intricate artistic arches, along with the folklore meshed into each room, was almost more than my mind could endure. The mosque is a huge building that is too beautiful for my photos to convey and so reverent that I hesitate to try to put it into words.  The Alhambra, on the other hand, was a summer home. A residence where sultans lived in a bubble that escapes my reality.   

The Sultan's wife only saw the world from her windows.  She had a beautiful garden with a wondrous fountain and a view of Granada spread below her windows.  She must have wondered what life was like down there at the bottom of the hill.  She wasn't allowed to talk to men...and the one time the sultan saw her talking to one of his thirty-six soldiers below in her garden, he was livid.  Since he didn't know the man's identity, he had all of them beheaded for the sacrilege.  I wonder what this woman would think if she could see the women of today?  And the sultan?  Apoplexy, surely.

The American writer, Washington Irving, has a special place in their history because he wrote Tales of the Alhambra to bring the stories alive tourists that now arrive in throngs.  300 tourists every half hour.  7,000 tourists every day.  The tour was run like clockworks and our guide spouted a wealth of information.  Me?  I was listening with one ear, but my eyes were roaming from each unbelievable corner to the other.

The Generalife is the sultan's gardens, defined as the "architect" of paradise.  I have never seen so many roses, rose trees, star jasmine, wild flowers, myrtle hedges, pines and more flowers than I could count.  As I walked through the gardens, the tinkling sound of running water filled my ears and the fountains were everywhere.  In every bedroom, salon, the harem... It is said that the sultan loved the sounds of three things...water fountains, gold coins and the voice of his beloved (not necessarily in that order).  Closing my eyes as I leaned against one of the cool stone walls, the sounds permeated my consciousness and my body sagged with peace.  Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.  

Rina and I wandered through the rooms, each of us enthralled with the grandeur and snapped photos until we couldn't walk another step.  She didn't appear jaded as she enjoyed every sparkling wall, ceiling and archway just because she'd seen it all before.  We kept grinning at one another as if we'd just received a marvelous gift and weren't sure what to do with it...

So, we sat on a stone wall to ponder the place, the moment and sharing it together.  

After we walked over cobblestone walkways, paths and found benches to rest on the way back down into the city, we never stopped finding the ambience the city offered.  Tapas bars were everywhere, shops with tinkling bells, souvenirs and men playing music on the street corners.  The city reached out, grabbed us and sat us down again.

Just before we landed at the foot of the hill, we heard flamenco guitar music.  And then I saw the broken guitar attached to the shop a few feet away.  A flamenco guitar repair and construction shop.  Immediately, my writer's brain opened up and the research I am doing for my next book about Callie's adventure spurred me on (besides Rina pushing me inside the door.)  Señor Francisco Manuel Diez was working on a guitar on a work bench when we walked in.  He saw us in the shadow of his shop, flicked the dust and wood shavings from his hands and came to greet us.  We explained about my research and he was interested.  When I said I'd been to Bernal's flamenco shop in Algodonales, his eyes lit up.  He knew I was serious.  With Rina's help in the Spanish language part of the conversation, he told us a bit about his work.  It was a very pleasant interlude in our day.

FINDING A MANTON...
I have looked for a manton similar to my friend, Gloria Lopez', since I arrived.  Here in Granada I found it, swooned over it, touched it.  The beautiful red, fringed scarf sang to me from the very elegant glass window.  The shop was very high end; we had to ring a bell for the owner to open the door... With a 25% discount coupon from our Alhambra tour  in my hand, I wanted this miraculous scarf as my own.  When I saw the price tag of 225 euros, I caught my breath and we left the shop.  When I couldn't get it off my mind, we returned so I could run my fingers over it, think about it some more... but then the owner tipped the tag to reveal it was 1,225 euros, not 225.  I touched it again and left with a photo of this beauty.  Then, we found a fan store.  Wall to wall fans priced low to high depending on the artwork.  I loved this one!  But, it was 96 euros.  Uh-oh.  Nope.  So I took another photo.

Having Rina here to share Spain added special memories and leaving her at the train was bittersweet. She shared her love of Spain, which enhanced our enjoyment in Sevilla and Granada more than I could have ever imagined.   Thousands of steps through history, the féria (fair), tapas bars, Spanish folklore, meeting her friends, seeing the Giralda and Torre de Oro in lights at night with the Seville skyline as a magical backdrop is etched in my memory bank.  Then, flamenco dancers, gypsy caves, narrow cobblestone streets, dodging taxis.  And the mystical view of the Alhambra with a million lights shining from its heights above Granada will always be part of my Spanish adventure memories.  Thank you, Rina.