The curtains were left open last night so I woke up this morning with the light of the sunrise gently glowing in my face. It was a beautiful start to the day.

We had no urgency to do anything, so we dosed in and out of sleep before finally deciding to get up and sit on the balcony. Julie had brought a cross-stitch kit with her. It was her new hobby, superceeding her kinitting.

It was already very warm, about 29C. At 8:35am Julie got her first bead of sweat.

Ready for some breakfast we headed out. We didn't have to go far. On the corner of the same block as the hotel we found a coffee shop called Ysla. It specialised in a local cake called Piononos.

They were only small baked cream cakes so we decided to go for the more regular breakfast pastries, an apple tart for me and a donut for Julie. 

Despite enjoying our sugary treats we both looked on with interest whilst two local men were tucking into a very traditional breakfast of tomatoes (pulped and seasoned) on a sourdough toast.

"I'm having that next time!" I said, wishing I had done so this morning.

We continued up Calle Acera del Darro, walking in the shade as much as possible. It wasn't so easy along the wide avenue. There were a few trees but not much else to protect us from the sun.

When we reached the end of the road we effectively reached the historic centre of the city which brought with it the relief of narrow streets with sails suspended above our heads. They were also mostly pedestrianised which also made for a more relaxing stroll.

We found ourselves in Plaza de Bib-Rambla, a pretty square lined with cafes and restaurants, and a fine fountain in its centre. Although the Fuente de los Gigantones water wasn't flowing this morning.

The excertion of our short walk was enough for us to justify sitting down at a cafe in the corner. It was too early for a beer and we were still full from breakfast, so we only had a drink. The freshly squeezed orange juice was perfectly refreshing and a great idea. 

Ready for the next leg of our self-guided city tour we came to a narrow alleyway known as Al Caiceria, an Arab style souk. Granada had been a muslim emirate since the 8th century and lasted until the 15th century. The Nasrid dynasty were the last Muslim rulers in Spain.

The city was once full of such souks but they have sadly all been lost. Even this street is not an original but a 19th century recreation in honour of the city's heritage.

It certainly had the atmosphere of an Arab souk, with some beautiful arches and stucco plasterwork. The market traders also added to the ambience calling out "Please look. I give good price."

We walked around the small market. Julie spotted a colourful red and gold dress that she liked. She's recently decided to reduce her black wardrobe and embrace colour.  Today she was dressed in red.

As we were about to leave the market we got caught in the middle of an argument between two drunken vagrants. They were shouting profanities at each other from a safe distance. We were stood in the middle of them.

Then one of them threw an object towards the other. It was time for us to leave before it turned nasty.

In our haste we hurried across a small square,  out of the conflict zone, reaching a smaller square with a statue of a donkey and its handler. It was known as the "monument to the water carrier".

With our composure restored we walked towards the catherdral.  It was without a doubt an impressive building but, despite looking at a very large door, we couldn't find the entrance.

We carried on to what essentially the back door before we realised we had to return to the square where the nutters were hurling insults at each other. Thankfully they had both moved on. This time we found the entrance easily . It was quite obvious if you weren't in a rush escaping a conflict.

We had to pay €7 each to enter. I had the cash in my pocket to pay for it but one of my €10 notes had ripped in half. Most places wouldn't accept it but I tried my luck, thinking those who worked in cathedrals are more likely to be kind, and I was right. "It's ok, I can fix it" she said.

Our first impression when we walked inside the cathedral was how white it all was. The walls, the columns, even the ceiling was white. But far from being plain and austere there was a purity and delicate beauty to it. 

At the end of the main nave was the Capilla Mayor, or main chapel, glowing with gold and the sunlight coming through the stained glass windows.

We walked down to get a closer look. Instead of standing there gawking we took a pew so we could take our time to admire the glorious architecture.

The organ pipes alone were a spectacular sight but the inner sanctum of the main chapel was breathtaking. 

It was built in a circular in shape in white marble and gilded gold. In its centre there was, in contrast, a silver main altar. Rising up were two tiers of portraits of the apostles, saints and other biblical scenes. Then two tiers of stained glass windows whose scenes were to far way to recognise, and above it all there was a beautiful dome with a design almost like a flower with gold stars in a blue green sky.

This was a statement, a truimph of Christianity over Islam. The victory of Catholic kings ridding Spain of the last of the Muslim emirs. The cathedral was built over the top of the city's Grand Mosque under the instruction of King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castille.

They laid the cathedral's foundation stone in 1525 and were even buried here in the Royal Chapel.

They were the rulers who began the brutal Spanish Inquisition where Jews and Muslims were forced to convert to Christianity with the death sentence the only alternative. They then lived in fear of being called out as a heretic if they were seen to act or heard to utter anything remotely un-Christian.

We watched as a nun walked down the steps from the main chapel, walking towards the statue of the crucified Jesus, she stopped abruptly after seeing something not to her liking. The arrangement of some leafy shrubs at the base of the crucifix were a bit shoddy. She called over a maintenance man and supervised his rearranging of the display. It made us smile. 

We continued around and behind the main chapel, admiring the other smaller chapels such as the one deidicated to San Cecilio. There were over a dozen of these in the surrounding side naves, all behind railings.

They were mostly all later additions. The construction of the church wasn't completed until 1705 and the altarpieces were installed in the fifty years that followed. By then styles had change and Baroque was definitely in fashion.  Many of them were brilliant works of art, highly ornamental and dripping with gold.

 The first we came across was the dramatic chapel of Our Lady of "El Antigua".

We crossed to the other side and came to the altar piece of the chapel of the Triumph of Santiago with a horseback statue of St.James the apostle as a 17th century knight. Either side, as if to prove a point that they were here first before the arrival of Islam, were 4th century Christian saints Saint Cecilio and  Saint Gregory Baeticus. 

Apparently somewhere nearby, although we didn't notice, was a way into the Royal Chapel, the burial chapel of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.

However there was no access from within the cathedral. Today you can only visit the Royal Chapel through another entrance, paying another €6 for an entry ticket.

Moving on we headed into the ante-sacristry where we came across a guy hyper-ventalating and clutching his chest. "Oh my God, it looks like he's having a heart-attack!" I said. 

Seriously concerned Julie informed a member of staff, who was sat by the exit just making sure no one came in through the outdoor. Despite the language barrier he followed us to check out if he was ok.

It turned out to be nothing. The guy was  embarrassed by the attention as if it was just a bit of wind. At least we hadn't ignored him and could have saved his life if it was serious.

We were now ready to leave and left through the gift shop.   

From the back-door we decided to find a nearby market, Mercardo San Augustin. It wasn't a market in the rustic local traders market, but more high-end butchers and fishmongers with a sideline in tapas.

I had made note of a popular bar called La Picateria which we found in the corner near the entrances. There was no one else there but it was early I suppose. Anyway, it didn't put us off as we pulled up a chair in the corner.

We ordered a glass of wine each and I chose some nibbles, which was an artichoke heart, (kindly cut in half for me) and skewered olives with sun-dried tomatoes and cheese.

Next we experienced for the first time a Granada tradition. The one where every drink would get a free tapas dish to accompany it. They hold true to the tapas traditions more than any other city in Spain. 

So within a few minutes the chef arrived with a bowlful of prawns.

The two glasses of wine and a plateful of prawns came to €7 which felt like really good value for money but then the artichoke and olives came to another €5 which I guess balanced the value for money out.

Once we finished we decided to slowly make our way back to our hotel for a siesta by the pool.

We began by returning towards the vicinty of the cathedral, coming across a sign near a construction sight advertising the arrival of a new 5 star hotel in 2026. We made a note of Gran Hotel Claridge for future reference.

At the corner of a street our attention was caught by a church in the distance. It was in the opposite direction to our hotel, nevertheless we were drawn to it . So we walked down a cobbled street towards it.

To be honest, the church of the Parish of St Justus and Pastor looked better from a distance. In all its glory it was a little underwhelming.

We looped around walking past the University's botanical gardens, a small walled garden in the centre of the city. There didn't seem to be a way in so I peered through the railings.

In a small square called Plaza de la Trinidad we stopped at a store selling Argentinian Empanadas, savoury pastries that resembled the Cornish pasty. Luisitas had several vegetarian choices including a Truffle, Mushroom and Cheese filled empanada which we couldn't resist.

We sat on a bench and shared the spectacular tasting pasty.   

A few short steps away we reached Plaza de Bib Rambla. The water in the fountain had been turned on so we decided to sit down again and have a drink at a bar called Bar Casa Julio.

It was very pleasant sat in the shade with a cooling mist of water showering us. We ordered two glasses of wine forgetting a drink would automatically come with a small tapas dish.

It looked interesting. Julie tested it and declared it unfit for vegetarian consumption for which she apologised but secretly pleased her as she was really enjoying it.

It was called migas, a breadcrumb tapas dish. This variation had specks of pork in it as well as pieces of green and red peppers.  It was all then lightly fried.

"We'll have to try this at home" suggested Julie. "It could easily be meat-free"

Before leaving the square we visited what could be described as a shop that had Julie's name written all over. It sold nothing but potato crisps! 

She was like a child in a sweet shop! Spoilt for choice, she bought a large bag of salted crisps and a packet of today's special, a corn snack that resembled Bugles. 

Next up came a shop that got me excited, the official store of Granada FC, the local football side languishing in the second tier of Spanish football. Their shirt was an attractive red and white stripes with a few splashes of blue trim that matched the sponsors logo. Of course I had to buy one. I usually do.

Down a quiet street we stopped at a small Carrefour supermarket to stock up on supplies for the room. A few large bottles of water and some cheap beer and wine.

Loaded down with shopping we decided to take the shortest route back to our hotel. It took us to a small square Plaza de Mariana Pineda with a pretty garden and monument in its centre to the 19th liberal heroine who was executed at the age of 26 for "conspiracy".

We still had time for one more stop at a bar called Chikito. I had this on my radar because its association with a famous poet from Granada called Lorca. Between 1915-1922 he and his artisitc friends used to meet up here when back then it was called Cafe Alameda. They called their social circle El Rinconcillo or "the gathering".

He even had a daliance with Dali.

Lorca's fame was not only because of his prose. He was murdered at the start of the Spanish Civil War in 1936. Most believe he was targeted for his homosexuality by a fascist murder squad.

We walked in, entering a small dark bar.

Other than the barman there was no one else inside. We ordered our drinks. He suggested we should sit outside and he would bring our glasses out to us.

Before leaving I had a quick look for a statue of the poet. I knew there was one here somewhere but it wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Do you have a statue of the poet Lorca?" I asked. 

He directed me to walk through a door in the corner into the restaurant. It was empty but sat at his favourite spot, at a table in the corner, was Lorca, with pen and paper, and a carafe of wine.

Back outside our wine arrived. It was a wonderful glass of Albariño. I don't think we had come across this grape variety before but we'll be searching it out when we get home. 

Two small bowls of food also arrived. Some manchego cheese with a few scattered raisins and drizzled with honey. Also a bowl of artichoke salad.

We made it back to the hotel where we put our bottles into the small fridge in our room. The idea was then to spend an hour or two relaxing by the rooftop pool but  unfortunately all the loungers were taken (or at least towels were claiming them).

Instead we sat at a table in the bar, enjoying the views and deciding our next move. Despite grazing all day we hadn't eaten much of substance so we agreed that a proper lunch was in order.

We returned to what was becoming our favourite square, Plaza de Bib- Rambla, to a restaurant called Provincias.

The menu had already been browsed on-line and I was looking forward to a dish they described as "artichoke flower in tomato sauce". Julie ordered the lamb cutlets. I was disappointed that she didn't go for the "bull's tail" that was on the menu!

After ordering our food our wine arrived, and of course another tapas plate. "Oh my God, we're going to put weight on this trip" I noted.

This time it was a small portion of paella which obviously had clams. Julie had no option but to devour it all by herself.

The waiter soon came back with bad news. "We have no artichokes". I was gutted and ended up ordering the buratta and tomato salad. Thankfully the tomatoes were absolutely stunning and more than compensated for my loss. The buratta was ok but I've had nicer.

Julie's main course of lamb cutlets was a risk. She often, when on holiday, suffers gnarly boney pieces of badly butchered lamb reluctant to give away its meat, but today she was in luck. They were decent lamb chops and plenty of them.

Another glass of wine each was ordered and another plate of tapas followed. It was a pile of grilled prawns.

Julie was geting full and couldn't possibly eat any more. She let the waiter know that she was still working her way through the lamb and that I was a vegetarian.

"No problem" he said and turned on his heels.

I thought we had offended but moments later he returned with a migas just for me. It was just plain breadrumbs, but seasoned beautifully, like buttery couscous and on top were some griddled padron peppers.  Now that was great service.

After lunch we returned to our hotel room for a proper siesta having an hour or two of light sleep.

Refreshed and ready to start the evening we returned out shortly after 7pm. We walked the same route back into the centre until we came to the street called Reyes Catolicos. Despite being a wide road the city had installed awnings to shade much of the first section.  Although I'm not sure what difference it made as we saw a temperature of 42C being displayed on one of those digital thermometers / clocks.

We soon turned off the main roads and into the narrow streets of a district known as Albaicin, a neighbourhood that still retains its old medina character. Our route took us past a tapas bar called La Riviera.

I had read they allowed you to choose your complimentary dish and it was true. After taking our drinks order the waiter asked which tapas would we like. On the table there was a small limited menu and I asked for a bocadillo vegetariano and Julie opted for the patas de pulpo. 

 We misread it as patatas de pulpa which in my head sounded a bit like pulped (or mashed) potato. Instead it turned out to be "octopus legs". Julie's face was a picture when they arrived!

Good on her though, she did give it a go.

After laughing at Julie's dish, it was then her chance to laugh at mine when this sorry excuse for a sandwich arrived. It really was the most pathetic sight, a thin bagel filled mostly with lettuce.

At least they were complimentary.

We moved on, walking gradually uphill along Calle Caldereria Nueva, a narrow shop filled street where the path was beautifully constructed from light and dark pebbles. There was a sweet smell of baklava and mint tea from numerous cafes. Echoes of the old medina and the souk was very much evident here. 

We soon reached a stunning little square called Plaza San Gregorio where the tiny church to the saint occupied a corner, tables spilled out from a small tapas bar, and the entire floor had been beautifully decorated with the black and white pebbles.

The hill continued, gently climbing up along wide cobblestone steps. Despite being a gradual gradient it seemed never ending and overwhelming for Julie. There were no distractions either as it was mostly a residential area.

She wasn't enjoying the warm evening hike one bit.

Eventually, after a few twists and turns we reached Iglesia de San Nicolas, but we weren't here for the church. The small square to the side had the best view of the Alhambra in the whole city.

It was breathtaking, quite literally. However, Julie's grumpiness dissipated as she conceded that it was all worth it.

 We weren't alone at the mirador San Nicolas. There was quite a crowd waiting for the sun to set. It was almost 8pm but it was also July so we still had an hour or so before sunset was due.

We spent a few minutes admiring the classic view of the Alhambra's Alcazaba fort before returning back down the steps to Plaza San Gregorio. 

From this approach the floor of the plaza looked spectacular. It was like a mosaic, a large carpet of pebbles.  The bar Teteria Las Cuevas had a free table outside so we sat down for a drink.

A lovely glass of wine came with a small plate of ham and pasta salad. Famished, I succumbed to my hunger and nibbled the pasta the furthest away from the meat.

The wine was again an Albariño and very good.

We had tickets for a flamenco performance. The most popular flamenco venues were up in the cave dwellings of the Sacromonte district, a half hour taxi ride away. We decided to keep it as close as possible and found Casa Ana, literally just around the corner from where we were sat.

We were the first to arrive. I had paid a little extra for front row seats and ours were reserved for us. Whilst we waited we had a look at the many photographs on the walls of the bar to the side of the theatre.

They were the faces of flamenco stars of the past full of character and stories to tell.

Tonight's line-up was on display. We had Irene Rueda and Saray "La Pitita" as the dancers, the singers were Juan A. Tirado and some bloke from Malaga and the guitarist was Ruben Leva.

Over the speakers we had an announcement in Spanish and then English explainng that tonight's performance would be "freestyle" whilst "keeping close to the essence of flamenco".

Also they requested they we refrained from taking photos until the end, when we'll get an opportunity to capture the performance. Which of course I obeyed.

The lights dimmed and the spotlights illuminated the stage. On stage were a table and three chairs. A young man, with a thin moustache, (which seems to be the fashion these days) walked on carrying his guitar. He sat down. 

He was followed by the singers, an older bloke with a mop of curly hair (Juan Tirado) and a bearded younger lad (the one from Malaga). They were all dressed in black.

 The stood to the side, clapping rapidly, as the dancers walked on and sat down.

All of a sudden the guitarist began to play, and the dancers began to stamp their feet creating a driving percussion.  Juan began to sing, becoming increasingly involved with the song, contorting his face into pained expressions.

The vocal performance was full of passion. At times it was closer to a wail, reminscent of Arabic in style.

The dancers then got up and joined the performance. It may have been choreographed but it did have the feel of spontineiety, like they were taken by the spirit of the song.

Their performances were superb as they threw themselves, full of emotion and often unelegantly, across the stage, influenced by the tempo and rhythm of the song. It was exciting to watch.

The dancers and the singers took it in turn to be the lead. Each having their time in the spotlight. The others encouraging each other with a "vale, vale" in hushed relaxed tones, like an "alright" sign of approval.

They took a break halfway through. They needed plenty of stamina to maintain that level of passion in their performance for the hour.

We really enjoyed the show. Each time we've visited Spain in the past (Madrid / Seville) we've taken in a flamenco show and this was the best yet.

We left Casa Ana and walked the short distance down to Plaza de Santa Ana. The square looked pretty. The streetlights were on and the Palace of the Royal Chancellery was lit up. 

It had gone 10pm but the sky wasn't completely dark yet.   

We moved on to the adjacent Plaza Nueva stopping a fountain to cool down in its splashing water. It was still lovely and warm despite the late hour.

On the way back to the hotel we stopped for a drink outside a restaurant called Los Marianos. It was very popular. A small plate of clams arrived with our wine. Julie picked at them but shellfish is not her favourite.

Back to the hotel we decided to have a nightcap at the rooftop bar. It was surprisingly busy with only a tall table free for us. Julie dislikes stools with a passion but she perched herself on one.

Our drinks arrived; without a tapas dish. We were actually disappointed!

"Oh look, the pool is free" I noted. 

Although I don't think we were allowed to use it after a certain time.

We set ourselves a curfew and were in bed before midnight.