Today began as yesterday did, waking up to a lovely sunrise, before falling back into a half sleep. Eventually getting out of bed around 8:30am. 

However, we literally had nothing planned for this morning. I resisted the urge to go out and explore the city as we lounged about indulgently.

I popped down to Ysla, the cafe on the corner, for a take out cofee and a few pastries. This morning I went for my favourite, a pan au raisin and Julie had the Souza donut again. I also picked up a pionono to try.

We ate our breakfast sat out on the balcony. The coffee was great but I must admit the pionono was a little disappointing. We've had a version of them before from Isaac's, a Spanish delicatessen in Conwy. His was a larger, more of a cylinderical cream filled Swiss roll.

These were also a thin layer of rolled sponge filled with cream but then cut into a slice about 3cm long, placed on its side and topped with cream which was then toasted. I think there was also a hint of cinamon in there. It didn't do anything for me, to be honest.

In contrast I was enjoying the pan au raisin even if wasn't one. It looked like one but was filled with candied fruit and walnuts, very sweet, very um .... different. 

Around 11am we eventually started our day. It began with a visit to El Corte Inglés, a department store that literally meant The English Court. It was directly opposite the hotel.

It was more of a reconnaissance mission. Our objective was to find their food hall and plan a picnic for tomorrow. Julie and I always enjoy a good look around the food aisle of any supermaket, especially when abroad. 

We didn't buy much but I did pick up a bottle of Salmarejo, Gazpacho's thicker cousin. I don't know if I was supposed to drink it or use a spoon. It was so thick I struggled to pour it out the bottle and down my throat!

I was probably comitting a cultural faux pas? Either way, it was delicious.  

Our route this morning took us back towards the historic centre.

We came to our unintentional first attraction today when we stumbled across the Corral del Carbón, a 14th century caravanserai with a stunning arch entrance. The original gate would have been large enough to drive a cart through as travelling merchants would pull up for the night, stable their horses and enjoy the hospitality of the inn.

We popped our heads inside and saw a simple courtyard with a stone water trough in the middle. There was a small museum but you had to buy a single day ticket that incorporated six other places, collectively known as the Doblo Oro.

Our plans didn't include any of them today so we turned on our heels and continued walking towards Plaza Nueva.

We stopped briefly in front of the imposing 16th century Palace of the Royal Chancellery. It was originally built and always has been an administrative building and today it houses the Supreme Court of Justice.

It had gone midday and the searing temperature was already taking its toll on us. We sat down outside a restaurant called La Cueva de 1900 where we ordered water & a diet coke, purposely avoiding alcohol because we weren't ready for any tapas having already shared an empanada along the way.

We sat here for almost half an hour, preparing ourselves for the climb up to the Alhambra. It was effectively our base camp.

Refreshed and ready for our second leg we left the plaza down Carrera del Darro a narrow cobblestone street that followed the right bank of River Darro, although in the summer it becomes barely a trickle of water. What little there was flowed beneath Plaza Nueva. 

We were surprised to see the street being used by the number C31 bus. There was hardly anywhere for pedestrians to go when it came.

Two stone bridges crossed the river, Puente Cabrera and Puente de Espinosas, both built in the early 17th century, reaching across to the "La Churra" quarter, a district once favoured by the nobility due to its proximity to the Alhambra. 

The street and the river then parted company as we came to the Church of San Pedro and San Pablo.

Julie noticed the tower of the Alhambra on top of the red stone Sabika hill. "Do we have to climb up there?" she asked with dread in her voice.  

Next we came to a section known as Paseo de los Triestes, which translates as the "promenade of the sad ones" and refers to the funeral processions that would leave the city towards the cemetary of Las Barreras up on Sabika hill. Many mourners would not attempt the steep climb deciding to say their goodbyes here.  

Although Paseo de los Triestes was more of a nickname. The street is officially called Paseo del Padre Manjon after a priest who established a school for poor children in the Sacromonte area in 1889.

The Promenade of the Sad Ones then opened out into a wider area, with a few benches to sit and admire the wonderful view of the Alhambra. There was a small park, a 17th century fountain and a modern bronze statue of flamenco dancer Mario Maya.

We crossed the river and began to walk up the slope. The path is known by a multitude of names. It is officially called Cuesta del Rey Chico, the slope of the Little King after Boabdil, a prince who rebelled to overthrow his Sultan father. He then went on to have the inauspicious honour of being the last sultan of the Nasrid dynasty, surrendering the city in 1492. 

It's also known as Cuesta de los Chinos after the pebbles from the riverbed used to pave the road, Cuesta de los Molinos, because of a few watermills along the route, and Cuesta de los Muertos, (slope of the dead) because of it being the route to the cemetary.

"Slope of the Dead?!" questioned Julie "You can say that again. I don't think I'm going to make it!"

The path rose quickly, about 80 metres above the River Darro. We had to stop often to catch our breath. At least it gave us a chance to admire the views back over to Albacin, with the Church of San Nicolas, the viewpoint we were at last night.

It was some relief when we eventually reached the walls of the Alhambra and the path levelled out. There was hardly any shade to be found as the sweat was dripping off us by now.

We continued to skirt the walls until we came to a gap in the fortifications, where the path turned to the right, walking between two bridges. Ahead, we could see trees, an oasis of shade.

We staggered towards it, like we had just crossed the Sahara, almost crying with joy when we realised there was a bar.  

"Agua con gas, grande!" we ordered. The large bottle of water was gulped down in seconds, so we reordered the same again plus a glass of Sangria each.

We thought the red wine cocktail would be refreshing but it was far too sweet and we struggled to finish it. However the sugar rush gave us a boost of energy and we soon began feeling normal again.

The main entrance was just around the corner. I had prebooked our tickets with an allocated time slot for the Nasrid Palace. So we walked up to the turnstiles and showed our print-at-home tickets.

They then asked for some proof of ID. As it happened I had my driving licence with me but Julie had nothing. I showed an image of her passport on the phone but it wasn't good enough. They refused us entry and told Julie to go to the customer service counters.

I wasn't allowed to go with her.  I sighed my disapproval.

So off she went on her own to the headmaster's office, to prove she was who she said she was. Five minutes later she returned validated.

Back to the turnstiles, and we were finally allowed to enter the Alhambra complex.  So with a skip in our step I followed Julie to the gardens of the Generalife, a summer residence and estate of the Nasrid sultans.

We walked towards the Generalife palace admiring the view of the Albacin quarter. Julie could tell I was itching to get into the Alhambra proper so we turned around and walked back the way we came, crossing over the bridge we walked under earlier.

We followed a path lined with incredible sculpted hedges. They had been meticulously trimmed into an arcade, a series of arches. I don't know why but I felt like Alice in Wonderland, in the garden when the queen was painting the roses red.

To our right, peering through one of the arches we could see the Monastery of San Francisco perfectly framed.

At the end of the path we came through a turnstile. It was confusing at first until we realised that we were leaving the Generalife gardens, back into public spaces. YOu could access this area without a ticket. 

We walked across a small square, towards a quaint hotel called Hotel America. Outside they had this striking pink-flower bougainville climbing up the front, and a chalkboard advertising a "restaurante & snacks".

Inside they had this lovely inner courtyard, shaded nicely by the canopy of a few trees. We immediately decided to stay for lunch.  Thankfully they had a choice on their menu for me in the form of Salmarejo and a tortilla, the traditional Spanish omelette.

The cold soup came out almost immediately. It was served topped with some croutons and flaked tinned tuna! Aaargh! I scooped it all off as quickly as possible. Not wanting to offend I then ate the remaining Salmarejo.

Next came my tortilla. I hadn't had one yet so I got to cross it off my tapas bingo card. The full seven inches diameter of egg and potato arrived simply served on the plate with a small side salad.

Julie ordered rabbit which was very advetnurous of her. It came stewed in a rich tomato sauce. She really enjoyed the flavours however most of the meat was on pieces of bone. She literrally had to put the whole chunk in her mouth, suck off the meat, then spit out the bone. Most unbecoming of a lady.

After lunch we went to have a look at the Convento de San Francisco. The path through its manicured garden was an attractive black and white mosaic of pebbles.

We were surprised when we walked inside into a lovely smelling air-conditioned reception to see it had been converted into a luxury hotel, Parador del Granada. The staff smiled at us. It must happen so often, inquisitive tourists discovering it was a hotel not a monastery.

It was of course still a historical 14th century monastery but access to the courtyard was for hotel guests only, so we left.   

Back in the small square we noticed another arched entrance and went to have a closer look. The glass doors opened automatically luring us inside. 

Once again the lovely smelling air-conditioning welcomed in.  

We walked down into a large empty dining room and continued outside to a lovely shady terrace. We pulled up a chair and ordered some wine.

From the patio there was a fabulous view of the Generalife palace across the divide and in the foreground busy gardeners tended to the hedges.

Having not eaten much substance for lunch Julie was still feeling hungry.

We weren't expecting any free tapas here. How often is it the case the more luxurious the venue the less you get for free?!

So we ordered some croquettas.

They arrived, 7 of them, smaller than a ping pong ball but very tasty.  

Julie brought out her cross-stitch and I sat there lost in my own thoughts. It was a very relaxing environment.

We were briefly entertained by a visitor who sat on a branch above our heads. It was a Jay bird, from the same family as the Magpie. It had this unusal irridecent blue spots on a sash of black on its wings. Otherwise it was a very beige bird.

It sat there, looking at us, looking at it.

We left the terrace and walk back to the small square, then continued down the hill. There were a few souvenir shops but we continued until we reached another place of interest.

It was the former house of Ángel Barrios, a classical guitarist. The building was originally the baths of the 14th century Grand Mosque, now converted into the Church of Santa Maria.

 The Barrios family bought the property  towards the end of the 19th century and converted it into a tavern called the Polinario where prominent musicians and artists gathered.

They had on display some of Ángel Barrios' musical instruments, a guitar on the wall and a piano overlooking the garden. He was also a proficient composer.

We walked around, had a quick look and were already heading for the exit after a few minutes. It was only a small place.

Next door was where the Grand Mosque would have been, until the end of the 16th century when work began on the Church of Santa Maria. Unfortunately the main doors were closed so we couldn't go inside. 

We continued to the Palace of Carlos V, a large square powerful palace. The lower level was bult with these large blocks of stone, reminding me of a palace in Florence. It came as no surprise to learn the architect, Pedro Machuca, studied under Michaelangelo.

We walked inside and were surprised to see a circular courtyard made with 32 doric columns. It was being used as a concert venue. What a fabulous place to see a performance.  Sadly we couldn't find anything on during our time in Granda. 

I walked up to the second tier to have a look. The stage at the end was enormous, taking about a third of the floor space.

There was a museum up here, Museo de Bellas Artes, (fine arts). I was a little confused whether we needed to pay or not to go inside, there was a price but did my ticket cover it? Ultimately I decided we didn't.   

However, back on the ground floor there was another museum, the Museo de la Alhambra. It sounded more relevant and a must-see, so we attempted to buy tickets using the self-serve machine but I couldn't find the option just for the museum.

I was getting a tad frustrated.

Fortunately there was a guard sat by the entrance who waved us in when we flashed our validated full access Alhambra tickets at him. I thanked him kindly thinking he was giving us a pass, but it turned out that it was free to enter anyway!

It was a really interesting collection and also nicely laid out. By that I mean the rooms weren't too full of artefacts, so it never became overwhelming.

We took our time, studying everything on display. It focused on the Nasrid dynasty and had items from the 11th to the 15th century such as the intricately carved wooden door from the Sala de Dos Hermanas, a room within the Nasrid palace and the stunning Vase of the Gazelles, dating back to 1380.

It was a wonderful insight into the life in the court of the Nasrid Sultans. I was particularly drawn to an artwork depicting the court. An image of the rituals of those inside the inner circle.  

We left the museum through an exit that dumped us outside at the back of the Palacio de Carlos V. It took a while for us to get our bearings, although there was only one way to go. So we walked back to the front, stopping briefly to admire the incredible blocks of stone that built the palace.

Next up on our itinerary was the Alcazaba fort, the most photographed part of the Alhambra because it's what you see the most from the city below.

We walked through an arch and across a wide dusty square to the entrance. To enter we had to show our tickets again. My ticket was scanned, then Julie's.

"Passport?" he asked.

"No, no, it has been validated" I said. I handed over the extra piece of paper Julie was given. I showed him my driving licence and explained Julie did not have a physical ID but showed him the scanned image of her passport. He still wouldn't let us in. Instead he called over a colleague so they could both look confused.

I was begining to get a little annoyed at their lack of comprehension.

Despite saying "It's no problem" they still weren't letting us in. Eventually they explained the actual problem. The piece of paper proving the ID had been validated by the ticket office was issued in my name, not Julie's!

Their confusion was what to do about it.

Eventually the colleague asked us to follow her to find a member of staff dressed in green. We were practically half way back to the start when came across one near the Palace of Carlos V.

Our chaperone then explained the situation to her. She then communicated the ticket office on her walkie-talkie. They eventually confirmed that they had made a mistake. 

And that was it. We were free to enter the fort.

"What about the Nasrid palace later?" I asked. I didn't want the same fiasco.

"It will be ok" she said "They know you".

"We're on their naughty list" said Julie. 

We returned to the Alcazaba and strolled right in. This was the oldest surviving part of the Alhambra, built in 1238 by the founder of the Nasrid dynasty, Ibn al-Ahmar aka Muhammad I.

Having gained control of Granada he wanted to keep it and it was from this lofty position he controlled the Emirate.

It really was an excellent view from the ramparts over the Albacin quarter. We could see it all, from the Church of San Pedro & San Pablo by the river Darro, all the way to the top of the hill and the Church of San Nicolas.

We continued along the path through the fort, entering a large courtyard with what looked like an archaeological site of low walls in various rectangular shapes.

At the far end was a tall tower, called Torre de la Vela.

Julie knew immediately that I would want to climb it and said "I'll wait for you down here" 

It didn't take me long to walk up the four floors to the top of the 27m tower.

On the Western side there was a small belfry, originally installed following the Christian conquest. 

To the right were four flags, the blue of  Europe, the red and yellow of Spain, the green and white of Andalucia and the green and red of the city of Granada.

It was from here, on the 2nd January 1492 that the Christian monarchs raised the flag of Castille over the city signalling the end of the Nasrid dynasty and Islamic rule in Spain. 

I walked around the four corners of the rooftop taking in the marvellous 360 views. I could see the impressive cathedral rising up in the heart of the city.

I tried to locate our hotel but all I could spot was the ugly rooftop of the El Corte Ingles.

On the opposite side the tower overlooked the residential area within the Alcazaba walls. It was clear to see how the fort was built in a triangluar wedge narrowing to a point more or less where I stood.

I could also see Julie, dressed in red, sat at the foot of a smaller tower. I tried waving but she didn't see me.

I soon left the tower and rejoined her, we then continued along the prescribed route, reaching a garden area. We took advantage of the shade for a few minutes as we planned our next place of interest to visit. We still had almost another two hours before our time-allocated ticketed entry to the Nasrid palace.

We decided to return to the back of the Palacio del Carlos V, to the spot we came out of the musuem. There was an entrance/exit to the Jardines del Partal, the garden that ran down from the Palacio Yusuf III to the Palacio del Partal.

 Despite being a classic symmetrical islamic garden, including a pool in the middle fed with water from a spring, flowing down a central channel, it was a recent 20th century addition.

There was hardly anyone there, resulting in a such peaceful environment. It was a real haven.

We followed the steps down reaching a much larger pool in front of the Palacio del Partal with its beautfiul portico. It was remarkable to think it was built around 1309 during the reign of Muhammad III making it the oldest palatial building in the Alhambra. However, it has undergone many renovations since.

The four slender columns, for example, were quite a recent replacement. We walked closer to look at the intricate detail above the arches. The portico was certainly stunning, whetting our appetite for the Nasrid palaces later.

The portico also served as a wonderful viewing gallery looking North over the Albacin quarter.

We walked inside stumbling across two young women who were taking it in turns photographing each other like they were on a professional photo shoot. We felt like we were intruding. So we didn't stay long.

After looking the other way, admiring the view back over the pool and the terraced gardens, we retraced our steps, towards the Palace of Yusuf III, around the back of the Palace of Carlos V, passing the fron door of Church of Santa Maria.

They were open so we popped inside for a look.

It was plain and simple with the exception of the exquisitely carved Baroque alterpiece. In the centre, amongst all the gold was a deathly grey crucified Christ, and below it the powerful scene of the Pietà, the Virgin Mary holding the lifeless body of Christ.

With still plenty of time on our hands we decided to head back to the terrace of the hotel for a drink and something else to eat.

On the menu they had ajo blanco another traditional cold soup from Andalucia. This one was white and made from almonds, bread, garlic, vinegar and olive oil. It also had small pieces of melon floating on top. It was tasty but not as good as the salmorejo, which has to be my favourite. 

At 5:30pm we left the terrace and walked back down Calle Real to the garden to the side of Palacio del Carlos V where we joined the back of the queue for our 6pm entry into the Nasrid Palace.

"You think they would provide some shade" said Julie as we stood out in the sweltering sun. It was a fair point.

6pm came and went and the queue wasn't moving much. Eventually we reached the point where they checked our tickets. "Passport?" demanded the member of staff.

"No,no, no, no" I replied. I explained our previous story.

 I don't know if she understood me or she just didn't want the hassle and decided to let us go through.

After the ticket check we briefly walked unimpeded until we reached the back of another queue. This bottleneck was caused by a security check.

We shuffled along until it was our turn. Julie opened up her tote bag for inspection. It contained nothing but her knitting. The guard, who was armed and accompanied by an beautiful (but potentially trained to kill) Alsation dog, picked up the knitting needles.

He touched the tip, shook his head and said "No". 

"Really?"  I replied in disbelief.

"No" was his answer.

I knew I wasn't going to persuade him to change his mind but I still went on a bit of a rant. "They're not a weapon. They're made from wood. They're more like chopsticks." I huffed. "What does he think you are?" I asked turning to Julie "A ninja assassin?"

I pulled the needles from her half finished project and reluctantly handed them over.

He did suggest we could take them to the lockers which were halfway back towards the Alcabaz fort but we weren't going to go to the back of this queue.

So he pointed to a contraband box behind us, 4 metres away. I walked halfway then chucked the needles in. One bounced back out again.

He then forced me into a humilating walk of shame to pick it up and place it in the box. I dragged my feet, literally.

Finally at twenty minutes past six we were free to enter the Nasrid palace.

We entered through the Sala del Mexuar, (Council Hall), and our first impressions of it was a rather boring reception room to the Palacio de Comares, a palace built by Yusuf I during the early part of 14th century.

But there were small details that tweeked interest. The lower half of its walls was laid with simple zellij mosiac tiles and it had a row of columns down both sides.

At the end we stepped into a small courtyard where we continuted past the Cuarto Dorado (Golden Room) with hardly a glance.

In the next room we paused briefly because, by chance, we looked up, noticing a lovely cedar wood ceiling. I stood there for a while admiring the design whilst the flow of people brushed past.

It wasn't an important room, I don't think it even had a name. It was just a connecting space between one courtyard and another.  

Moving on, we arrived in the beautiful Patio de la Arrayanes, the court of the Myrtles. A pool filled its entire length, surrounded by a precise manicured boxed hedge. A cordon directed us to the left, along the edge of the pool, to the sala de la barca, a beautiful seven arched portico.

We looked back along the length of the pool towards a similar structure on the other side.

From there we walked inside the Salon de Embajedores, the Sultan's throne room where he would conduct his meetings with ambassadors and emissaries.

It was an impressive room. The entire four walls were richly decorated with detailed stucco plasterwork, and a zellij mosaic tiled dado board at the base.

Apparently there were also many inscriptions of poetry and texts from the Qu'ran.

It was a bright and airy room. Light streamed in through nine alcoves across the three sides. The lattice work also allowed the air to circulate. 

Above us, 18 metres up, was a mesmerising domed ceiling made from over 8000 individual pieces of cedar wood. The painted mosaic design created the effect of the starry night sky. 

With my attention captivated by the ceiling, I almost tripped over a section of the floor cordoned off to protect the original 15th century glazed ceramic tiles. Thankfully I had Julie to stop me.

Back outside, we walked the length of the Court of the Myrtles to the far side of the pool. From there we could see the Torre de Comares, the tower in which the Salon de Embajadores was housed.

It was a dramatic castle-like lookout tower, part of the original fortifications.

We walked out of the courtyard and into another. In fact we walked from one palace into another entering a distinct seperate palace, the Palace of the Lions. It was built by Mohammed V, who became sultan at the age of 15 years old after his father Yusuf I was assassinated in 1354.

His palace was the jewel in the crown of the Alhambra.

As soon as we entered the Sala de los Mocàrabes we were in awe of its beauty. We could see, through a forest of columns, the fountain of Lions in the centre of the Patio de los Leones.

Whilst the fountain drew our attention, it didn't distract us from the exquisite carving of the mocàrabes, often referred to as stalagmite vaulting, above the arches of the pavillion. 

We approached the late 14th century fountain. The marble basin, guarded by a dozen lions was a marvel. The hydraulic system was designed in such a way that the level of water in the basin remained constant, whilst the fountain of water poured out from each lion's mouth. 

Around the basin was an inscription, six verses of poetry by Ibn Zamrak, an Andalusian poet, which actually refers to how the water is held back by the bowl "just as a lover whose tears are on the brink keeps them in for fear that they might betray him."

Over the centuries bits and pieces were added to embellish it but during the 20th century it was restored back to its simpler original form, based on the poet's detailed description.

We took our time to study the 650 year old fountain and not hurry ourselves along.

Eventually we stepped away and had a look inside the first hall from the courtyard. The Sala de los Abencerrajes was incredible, jaw-droppingly stunning.

The dome and arches covered in mocàrabes (aka muqarnas) were as delicate as lace. There was also something organic about it. As if it were alive. I had never seen anything quite like it, and it really surprised me.   

Another section off the courtyard was the beautiful Sala de los Reyes, a hallway with a series of arches dripping with the stalagmite of the mocàrabes architecture.

Mirador de Lindaraja

Mirador de Lindaraja

Patio de Lindaraja