They took our photo and we all laughed at our eagerness and early arrival. When the doors opened the security guard controlled the crowd of us four, letting us in first and the others in to go to the counter once we had finished. We hired an audio guide and then ‘queued’ at the entry gate. The tickets are stamped with a half hour time slot when you can enter the Nazrid Palace, where you can stay as long as you like once in. With sometimes 6000 visitors in a day, it is easy to see why they do that, and also why the tickets are for a morning visit, to 2 pm, or an afternoon visit, from 2 pm. There is no siesta time up here in tourist land. We met a young Russian living in London and entertained ourselves chatting. He had come to the Alhambra on the evening visit from 8 pm. At that time there had been no security like now, and once he had bought his ticket he was free as a bird. It must have been freezing as he wandered from palace to palace in the dark, so no wonder he was coming for a daytime visit too. In fact, when he went to leave, he could not, since many of the gates generally open to the public were closed. He eventually found his way towards the lit up hotel within the walls, and they told him the only way out was through the entrance and set him on the right path.Our ticket for the Nazrad Palace, the palace of the emir, was for 8.15, and we had it checked three times and registered electronically before we actually entered. In the low light it was a little difficult to see clearly the amazing decorative plaster work in the first rooms, the council chambers where the public could go, but gradually the sun rose, taking over from the grey dawn. Starting life as a fortress in the ninth century, the Nazarid emirs converted it to a palace fortress in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. There was once a little town attached but only ruins remain of its medina. The mosque was replaced with a church after the Christian re-conquest, and a Franciscan convent was built, which is now a hotel. Two generations later, Carlos V had a wing of the original palace destroyed to make way for his own enormous Renaissance palace. The whole beautiful area was abandoned in the 18th Century and, without care and with thieves and beggars and then Spanish soldiers during the Napoleonic invasion living there, it fell into disrepair and ruin. At least it was not blown up, which could have been its fate if Napoleon had ordered it to be. An American romantic writer, Washington Irving, lived there in the 1820s, writing a book called ‘Tales of the Alhambra’. It was supposed to be his voice on the audio guide, so we knew a little of his brief stay, during which he camped in the Nazred Palace along with gipsies. New interest was sparked and in 1870 the Alhambra was declared a national monument and now has UNESCO World Heritage status. Thank goodness for Washington Irving because since his time, the renewed interest and then the tourist potential have led to what was ruins being heavily restored.
The interior decoration of magnificent tiles, intricate plaster work and amazingly ornate patterns, the array of geometric designs and Arabic inscriptions and the enormous heavy doors continued through the audience rooms and the Patio del Cuarto Dorado (patio of the golden room). The residential part of the palace was built around another patio with a rectangular pool and hedges of myrtle in it. The carved ceilings are a feature of this palace, and after a while we ran out of superlatives to describe what we were seeing. The room where the Christian emissaries would have negotiated with the emirs, the Comares Hall, has 8000 pieces of cedar in its domed ceiling which represents the seven heavens of Islam. We were led along a tourist trail in and out of rooms and patios, eventually coming to the Lion Patio, which we had firmly in our minds as a highlight of our last visit. It was disappointing to find that the lions had been removed for restoration work. The rooms on all sides of this patio were very beautiful and the delicate columns created a light feel as we moved in and out of the terrace arcades. In one room there is a dark stain on the marble floor; said to be the blood of the Abencerraj family, whose leader had made passes at the favourite of the Emir Abu al-Hasan. The palace evolved over time, with additions creating more and more mini-worlds around beautiful patios and gardens.
When we emerged, we felt that we had had an absolute feast of architectural and decorative beauty. It would have been plenty for a day, but the tickets are expensive so we needed to press on to make the most of our time. With umbrellas up and our fingers freezing and feet freezing, we followed the signs to our next venue. The Carlos V palace is so austere in comparison, that what would be impressive in any other setting seemed amazingly restrained and plain. It is set around a circular central courtyard and apart from the visual arts gallery and an exhibition space, the rooms of the two storeys of galleries were not open to the public. The museum there was closed on Sundays. The exhibition had a major modern installation with stills from a film all around a circular room. We were given 3-d glasses to appreciate it further and by pressing buttons viewers could select a section of the New Zealand film to run. Other sections showed modern sculptures with an impressive enormous lion having been made entirely of strips of black tyres and a strange one being books floating up and down in fish tanks. Downstairs we learnt about the restoration process for some of the elements of the Alhambra.
It was impossible to believe that it could be any colder, but even a jog up the stairs to the first floor gallery did not warm us up. It was a wonderful relief to enter the Museum of Fine Arts, where a hundred umbrellas dripped into a specially designed canal, all looking like broken winged bats and quite sad and dejected. The heating was on and so many who may not otherwise have lingered over art works were connoisseurs today.All the artists whose works were displayed were from periods after the Christian re-conquest. An early work from 1520, by Jacobo Florentino-el-Indago, was a sculpture called ‘The Burial of Christ’ with amazingly sad, tortured expressions on the faces of the participants. Art in Granada was developed by artists from elsewhere coming here to paint pictures inspired by Granada. Artists would come, and then leave. It was only when Alonso Cano came on the scene that Granada had its very own home grown major arts figure. He lived from 1601 – 1667, and was trained in Seville. He worked in Madrid for Philip IV and while there saw the royal collection of Italian paintings. It is a step back for us to think of an artist not having seen works by other artists, since reproductions are so readily available to us. Returning to Granada he dabbled, with fabulous results, in sculpture, architecture, painting and drawing. He took sculpture in a different direction by painting his pieces, and he took painting in new directions by adding sculptural elements and a strong sense of three dimensions to his pieces. His larger than life sculptures of saints were arresting and brilliant.
Religious commissions were the bread and butter of artists. Their works depicted the way the wind was blowing in different eras. After the reformation, the Catholic Church launched the Counter Reformation, and at the Council of Trent it was decided to go all out with the devotion of Mary and the promotion of the saints. That was because there were now some doubters in congregations and so, to recruit more believers and to overcome waiverers, there was a need to humanise, dramatise and provide greater opportunities to identify with religious figures. Altar pieces were all important because they were like the ads of the future, depicting grabs of dramatic moments and favourite characters, which would be elaborated on in sermons or in chapels. Some altar pieces had moving parts and many were in gold, with lots of vibrant colour. Artists were expected to present characters with personal appeal to viewers.
By the 17th Century, some topics other than religious ones were being painted, such as portraits, everyday scenes and landscapes. Protestant countries led the charge but even in Spain the nobility were starting to commission such works. Unfortunately economic decline in Granada in the 18th and 19th Centuries led also to cultural decline. Although artists are traditionally supposed to be happy to starve in garrets, with no commissions or buyers of paintings, the painters were off. It was not until the rise of the bourgeoisie and their patronage, and the advent of provincial grants and art prizes at the end of the 19th Century that artists again could make a living here.
From 1830 – 1930 the city’s past was developed as a romantic topic, and there were also local responses to all the art movements of the 20th Century. I had not realised that the break with traditional art was prompted to a large degree by photography, which could depict reality. No longer were form, perspective and naturalism solely the domain of the artist. Instead artists experimented with ideas, motivations, the novelty of creation, and their own unique forms of expression. This gallery had fine examples to show the evolution of the arts in Granada and the overview information was excellent.
We gathered up our poor forlorn umbrellas and took them out to protect us from the snow that was now falling into the central courtyard of Carlos V’s palace. Exciting at first, we had to keep moving we were so cold. I hurried to the toilets to put on my long johns under my pants. Keith said that some poor men were in the gents trying to dry out their socks with the hand dryer. We really skimped our visit to the alcazar because the rain, wind and occasional snow were not the best for admiring archaeological digs, walking on castle walls or admiring vistas from the towers. We were so happy to have a dry moment up at the bell tower to admire views of the city of Granada below.
In the Church of Santa Maria we saw the processional platform with the statue of the Virgin in gold on top. It takes 64 men to carry the platform, with forty underneath and twenty-four on the outside holding poles. She is paraded for seven or more hours with only minor breaks and the bearers have to be exceptionally strong. We were watching the clock so we didn’t have very much time in the Museum of Angel Barrios, a musician who lived here at the time when the Alhambra was not a tourist Mecca and people lived in a suburb in its grounds. His former house held an exhibition about his life and work, and there were some fascinating old photos of his family as well. We had passed a street named after him, so it was interesting to find out a little bit about him.The Generalife Gardens were just beautiful, even without anything in the way of flowers, because they are a series of ‘rooms’ changing levels up the hill, connected by steps and arcades. I could imagine them in summer, when the roses and all the annuals would provide a magnificent tumble of colour between the dark green sculpted hedges. The perfumes would be amazing. My next trip here must be in early Autumn. I do think that the name ‘Generalife’ suggests sponsorship by a life insurance agency or some such, so it is important to remember that it translates as ‘Architect’s Garden’, and then it is easy to understand why structure, fountains, pools and buildings are all part of the garden. The Emir’s summer palace is in the corner of the Generalife. There are parts of the garden out of bounds to visitors, although we could look down into them and think of noble children throwing balls and running around the fountains while their mothers looked down at a city that they would never visit.
The garden of the Sultana was particularly pretty and, unusually, had a large tree to one side of the courtyard. This is where the lovers were caught, leading to the blood stain and the murders that I mentioned earlier. Some steps with water running down their balustrades in channels led to the final garden, where many large old deciduous trees grew in little hedged sections. There is no going back at the Alhambra – or rather there is, but not once you enter one of the special sections, such as the Nazrid Palace or the garden, where the tickets are electronically scanned. The path we now followed led us back to the entrance where we arrived, with three minutes to spare before our tickets expired.
It rained on and on. We sought refuge under a shelter shed where there were relief maps in bronze of the different stages of building additions at the Alhambra. Two stray ginger cats appeared to see if we had any food for them, and they were like the child beggars who are sent after tourists because they are cute. They mewed and looked up at us appealingly, not overstepping the bounds of polite request behaviour that would be so successful with most animal lovers. When we did not respond they stepped it up a notch and jumped up beside us to rub on our sides to show that they were loving pussies. Finally one attempted to step onto my lap and the other looked as if it would make a leap onto Keith’s. In a flash they were gone, with the arrival of another tourist who opened her packet of meat sandwiches. They were immediately successful and everyone was satisfied – the cats because they had a meal and the girl because she had not had a lonely lunch.We decided to keep walking up the hill beside the gardens to see where it went and because sitting still we were seizing up with cold. There was only a car park. Rather than wait for a bus we headed downhill towards the town. When we came to a park we entered and enjoyed a photographic exhibition on the theme of water. The photos were wonderful and at every one of the fifty or more we paused to look carefully.
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In the end it was just too icy for us to keep going and we walked back towards the city centre, down a hill past many a ‘carmen’, and unwittingly across the river which was underground. We did take the chance to look closely at the statue of Columbus, kneeling hopefully before Queen Isabella, with his plans for his voyage of exploration in his hand. Of course she said, "Yes, that looks ok – don’t forget to bring me back some treasure," and the rest is history.
One of the worst backgrounds for a sculpture that we have seen.Back at the hotel it was only marginally warmer inside than outside. The heating didn’t come on until the evening and so we hopped into bed to stay warm. We had a picnic dinner and Keith said it didn’t matter if our room smelt of cheese because the staff would just think that it was backpackers’ socks. He called over to pick up our computer and the bad news was that it could not be ready until late the next day. We contacted our couch surfing hosts to delay our arrival and went off to bed again, this time with no possibility of typing or feeling that I should be typing. We read and relaxed until late.
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