My Tales from the Alhambra and the Virgin Mothers' Wrath

Upon visiting Granada—though superficially, from the perspective of a mere tourist—I quickly fell for the same charm that intoxicated Romantic writers centuries ago.  Tucked away in the Sierra Nevada and populated by the sumptuous palaces of a civilization overthrown and expelled long ago, the city preserves an inimitable air of antiquity, a time capsule of sorts.  Aided in part by its geographical isolation, Granada was the last Muslim stronghold on the Iberian Peninsula before the Christians finalized their “Reconquest.”  While you´ll find footprints of the Muslim occupation in many parts of southern Spain—bits and pieces of fortifying walls and former minarets converted into bell towers, for instance (see previous posts)—in Granada the Arabic influence is far more pronounced, if not overstated.  The Alhambra, built during the Nasrid dynasty, presides regally atop its hill; innumerable little tea houses, thick with hookah smoke and heavily decorated in neo-mudéjar style, line Granada´s famously narrow streets; and while not exactly authentic, the tourists´ shops, a veritable kaleidoscope of flowing fabrics and wafting aromas, are about as close to the Kasbah as you´ll get this side of Gibraltar.  Not to be entirely outshone by the city´s Islamic past, Christian Granada shares an equally imposing presence in the form of Carlos V´s Renaissance palace, which stands smugly beside the Alhambra, as well as Ferdinand and Isabel´s final resting place, la Catedral de la Encarnación.  In Granada, Spain´s multicultural history forms more of a patchwork as opposed to the “layer cake” effect, reflected both architecturally and archaeologically, seen in other parts of Andalucía. 

The famously narrow streets of the Albaicín, the ancient Muslim quarter

The Sierra Nevada against a sadly overcast sky

The Alhambra sits on its hill not unlike a monarch atop her throne.

The exterior of the Palace of Carlos V

The interior courtyard of the palace is a perfect circle.  The acoustics
are fantastic... wouldn´t mind performing here!

Entering the Alhambra...

One of umpteen meticulously kept gardens within the Alhambra.
Water features prominently in Muslim architecture to create a sense
of continuity, a means of integrating exterior elements indoors.

Looks like they´re in desperate need of a human translator.

View from the Generalife, the Nasrid king´s summer residence.

NOTE: My trip to Granada was almost a month ago, and after so much time I was all but too embarrassed to publish the previous reflection.  In my defense, I've been pretty consistently ill for the past month, and two trips to the clinic later, I'm still horribly congested and missing Seville's much anticipated and desperately needed spring in favor of numerous, extended siestas.  I'm debating whether it's worth dragging myself to the doctor's yet again to get tested for mono, though at this point they'd only prescribe me bed rest, of which I'm already getting plenty.  I wonder if my awful health here in Seville is punishment for all of my sacrilegious jokes aimed at the city's countless Virgin Mothers.  If this is the case, I duly accept my penance, as I really can't help myself. With such names as Our Lady of Good Books and Our Lady of Bitterness, it's difficult not to want to get creative and name a few vírgenes for yourself.  It's only a matter of time before you have at your disposal an entire pantheon of perverse Virgin Mothers to play leading roles in any matter of jokes or scenarios that are lewd, scatological, or otherwise offensive in nature.  I blame this affinity for blasphemy on my good Catholic upbringing.