Granada

The drive from Seville was relatively easy and pleasant enough without being remarkable.  The first half was really taken up with getting out of the Seville metropolitan area, with the second half dominated by olive trees as far as the eye can see.   We ascended quite a distance but seemed to descend almost as much quite quickly thereafter.  We stopped for a toilet stop and drinks break briefly, then a subsequent toilet stop (the joys of travelling with a small person!) before arriving pretty much as expected around 2pm in Granada.

We had booked an Air B&B place for our stay, on the basis that it provided a parking spot for our hire car.  Public parking in Seville had cost about 56 euros so it seemed like a sensible approach.  I had perused some of the reviews of the very highly rates Air B&B apartment and noted that numerous travellers had found the size of the car park a little troubling, but also took into account that a bunch of people had criticised the parking garage we used in Seville too, so didn’t put too much heft in their comments.  With the help of the in-car GPS and Google Maps, we found the accommodation easily (although Google was insistent we avoid one of the main roads through the city centre, with good reason; we noted numerous signs as we passed through what seemed like a fairly deserted part of the CBD, which seemed to indicate both a 30 km/h speed limit and something to do with camera enforcement.  It later became apparent that vehicles required a permit to drive along this particular part of the street and we are now looking forward to a fine, somewhere between 30 and 90 euros, depending on whose Google commentary you believe!).  Anyway, with the wonders of modern communication, we had managed to organise for the accommodation owner to be present upon our arrival.  The essentialness of this became more and more evident as we were guided, inch by inch, into the garage underneath the building.  With barely a centimetre to spare, we managed to be negotiate the ramp down to the garage to the assigned spot, miraculously avoiding any scrapes or dents.  I said to Linton after the tense descent “How are we going to get out of here?”  The answer remains to be revealed!!

Emilio, the Air B&B host, reiterated (as he had by email the night before) that the apartment wasn’t yet ready and recommended a local tapas place for lunch.  We strolled through the park and found the suggested venue, ordered an array of snacks and sat back to enjoy the warmth and relaxed surrounds.  The salmon, avocado and caviar tapas was the clear winner, but the beer also ticked the box.  A short play in the local riverside playground took care of the final hour of waiting for check-in and we headed back in the general direction of our accommodation, stopping in at El Corte Ingles, a Spanish department store, for a bit of air conditioning and finding a huge (for Spain), basement level supermarket.  Emilio texted to let us know the place was ready, so we went upstairs, took care of the formalities and were left to our own devices.

The apartment was spotlessly clean, reasonably sized, air conditioned and quite nice, with four little balconies, each of which was preceded by some double-glazed French doors, all shuttered to keep out the sun, and a modest kitchen and bathroom to boot.  It was located just outside the centre of town, about 5-7 minutes walk away, in a predominantly residential area of narrow streets with a smattering of ground floor commercial activity (including the guitar shop next door and the seemingly bankrupt Mexican restaurant just across the road). Thankfully, the TV was a smart one, and given it was nearly 4pm, we hung around watching TMNT and Paw Patrol for a while and reconnoitering the dinner options.  Around 6pm, we headed out in the direction of the best local option, which after walking for around 600m, turned out not to open until 8pm.  After a bit of aimless wandering, and noting the less than impressive offerings of a few other nearby venues, we plumped for a chain pizza/pasta place, where all the dishes were 3.50.  Not expecting too much, we were pleasantly surprised and enjoyed a simple dinner of pasta (X and I) and a cheeseburger (Linton).   We returned to our apartment, undertook the usual bedtime routine for X and relaxed for a while (with a bit of Netflix (total absence of English language TV)) before bed.  Linton had gone out for breakfast provisions from the supermarket (literally two minutes away) so that we were equipped for the next morning.

We had no plans for Tuesday, so after we woke up, Linton cooked boiled eggs and toast before we set off for the cathedral.  Xavier’s all-too-common refrain of “I don’t want to walk” dominated the first half hour or so, with me returning to the apartment with the child-carrying backpack to demonstrate that our threats of him having to put in some hard yards on foot before being allowed to be carried actually meant something!  After finally showing we meant business, we perked up with a coffee (and chocolate milk) in the square outside the cathedral, before heading inside.  The 5 euro entry fee (including audio guide) turned out to be a bargain as X tuned into the kids commentary channel on his very own hand-held audio guide.  He was captivated by the narrative and perhaps was happy just to be doing the same thing as his Dad and Dada, but the audio guide seemed to keep him occupied for pretty much the entire visit without us having to shush him or implore him to remember to speak quietly because it was a church!

X and L enjoying the Cathedral audioguide

View of cathedral from one of the backstreets

The main nave and altar of Granada Cathedral

The cathedral itself was impressive.  Much lighter than many we have seen, and mostly comprised of white marble, it seemed very airy and voluminous, although in some ways quite understated.  The various chapels all had their own particular features but the main altar impressed with its multitude of stained glass windows, paintings and religious ornaments and accessories.

Afterwards, we wandered through some of the immediate surrounds of the cathedral and picked out a few contenders for dinner.  Souvenir magnet purchased, we returned to the apartment for a home-made lunch (ham and salad rolls) and X’s sleep.  Trip Advisor recommendations centred on the Basilica of St John of God, around a 20 minute walk away.  We set off in accordance with Google’s wisdom and enjoyed the walk through a relatively quiet part of town, which seemed dominated by commercial units on the ground floor with 3-4 floors of residential apartments on top of them.  The narrow streets were cool and shady and the density of inner city living in an historic European city became more apparent as we continued.  As the backstreets gave way to a more major thoroughfare, we spotted a religious-looking building, which turned out to be a monastery.  A bit further on, we found the basilica – but it was still closed for siesta.  We had to kill about 20 minutes, so kept strolling until we hit the main street (Gran Via), where we spotted a shady bench in a tiny park on the corner, so repaired there for a few minutes’ rest among the rose bushes.  Xavier tested his running speed, timing his circumnavigations of the main garden bed, while I ventured a bit further to check out a grand looking building which seemed to be part of the university.  It was perched imposingly on top of the hill and was impossible to photograph effectively due to its size and surrounding buildings.

We eventually returned to the basilica and paid our 4 euro fee (including audio guides for each of us) and began exploring.

External view of St John of God

There were lashings of gold leaf on the huge, multi-level main altarpiece and a number of impressively decorated ceiling domes, although the building itself was quite modest in size.  We surveyed some of the smaller chapels, generally copiously decked out with paintings, sculptures and other symbols of faith, then were invited to head upstairs to see the tombs.  We ended up behind the main altar, with the gold plated, lavishly decorated solid silver tomb of St John of God.  On the surrounding walls were mounted an uncertain number of glass boxes, each perhaps a bit smaller than a shoebox, containing various combinations of bones of presumably noteworthy servants of God, mounted quite macabrely for all to see!  It was quite the spectacle.  Unfortunately, the labelling was not at great so it was difficult to appreciate just whose bones we were having the privilege of inspecting!!

Nave of St John, looking rearward

Bones at St John of God

Subsequently, we walked back along some other backstreets and came across a small playground where X enjoyed a little rocking car, slippery slide and swing, and where I tried to teach him how to play hop scotch.  He couldn’t quite get the gist of hopping but was impressed with his new skill regardless! From here, we (I – by this stage, Linton was a bit sick of having to verify every eating and drinking decision with an external source!) scoured Trip Advisor and found a nice little bar for a relaxing beer or three, and for X to enjoy a bit of iPad time.  As it turned out, the gin and tonics were generously free poured and nicely iced, and the tapas were reasonable (including the simple jamon on bread tapas we received for free with our first beer), so we had a pleasant dinner in the shadow of the cathedral, watching the world go by and eventually realising the incessant grinding noise we could hear was at the knife sharpening shop across the road and up the laneway a little.  It wasn’t too invasive but we spent some while trying to determine what the heck it was!

Potent G&T!

Back to the apartment for bed, then up the next morning for our pre-booked trip to the Alhambra.  Tickets went on sale three months’ ahead of time and I’d reserved our tickets a few days after it became possible in July.  We navigated a maze of backstreets to get to our bus stop and stood watching what was a lengthy and seemingly growing snake of traffic move slowly along the street.  Helpfully guided by the bus stop sign that indicated the next stop was about 250m away, we progressed on foot, thinking we could expedite our journey.  A few minutes later, and after breathing in who knows how many kilograms of carbon monoxide, the bus arrived and we shortly left the traffic jam behind and headed up the hill to the old palace/fort/garden complex.

Retrieving our tickets from the machine, despite being informed that X’s concession ticket would require proof of age to be presented and having to use a reference number for the self-service machine that did not all resemble the reference number printed on the ticket confirmation (omit first digit, enter the date (it was a date?) differently, omit the last digit), we eventually held our entry passes in our hands.  We sat down for a quick coffee, and realised how different it was to what we were expecting.  We had anticipated it to be quite dry, dusty and run down.  On the contrary, it seemed oasis-like, lush and cool.  While there were lots of retail areas and what seemed like millions of tourists milling around awaiting their ticketed entry times, it was easy to find a spot to appreciate the calm, quiet surrounds.

We spent a good few hours at the Alhambra, visiting the Palace Nazareth (the ancient Moorish palace) with its mass of intricate mosaic tiled walls, detailed carvings of wood and stone, symmetrical design and innovative use of water features and lush courtyards to cool the building.  While we were waiting to get into the Palace Nazareth, Xavier became enamoured with the large family (families?) of stray cats that seemed to call the Alhambra home.  He had a short Mexican stand-off with one, he not game to close in for a pat, and the cat wondering why this small person with an intense gaze was so standoff-ish!

Example of detailed stone carving

Some more intricate wall embellishment

The boy cannot sit still!

Courtyard at Nazareth from 1200s

Courtyard vista

View from the garden looking back at the Nazareth Palace

After the Palace, we went to the Alcazar, which was basically ruins, and ascended the narrow stairway to the top from which we had a brilliant view of Granada and surrounds.  Then a quick look at the Carlos Palace, a white elephant, unfinished palace project of an egotistical Spanish king which in part was home to a gallery of fine arts which we skipped on account of the boisterous 3 year old!

View from the top of Alcazar, with Nazareth Palace on left and Carlos Palace on righ

X and I at top of Alcazar

View towards main part of Granada

It was time to head back home for Xavier's nap, after which we popped out for a spot of shopping and a refreshing drink in the shadow of the cathedral.  A home-cooked meal followed (ah, the wondrous flavour of fresh vegetables!) before we sorted out our bags for our departure the following day.

Thankfully, we again had the assistance of the Air B&B host Emilio to exit the car park, once more without injury to person or property!  Our itinerary saw us covering 167km to Torremolinos.  We had decided to drive the extra 30km along the coastal route for the (presumably) more enjoyable views.

We got hungry and thirsty a short while into the trip and Nerja seemed a decent spot to try to seek nourishment.  We had a brief walk on the coarse sand beach before we realised that, without sunscreen, we had a limited sunburn-free shelf-life in the sun and selected a beachfront cafe.  The offerings turned out to be a bit disappointing but they were enough to sustain us for the remaining hour or so.

Happily, the rest of the drive went off without a hitch and we arrived in Torremolinos for our three night beachside relaxation sojourn.  After a minor check-in glitch (the hotel had us booked in for four nights) and a surprise car parking fee (12 euros a day!), we found our room, which was something of a 1970s throwback.  Wood veneer, peach coloured walls, very well-worn beds - you get the idea!  The resort was a half-board arrangement so we had breakfast and dinner included in our room rate.  It alleviated the need to consult Trip Advisor or other website (or just take a chance) when selecting meal venues, which was a welcome change.

First stop: the swimming pool.  X and L took a dip while I observed the largely British crowd on sun lounges indulging their quintessential resort behaviour; most were drinking and smoking in the sun, inviting all sorts of cancers and chronic diseases!!

Afterwards, we took a walk to the beach and dipped our feet in the water before returning for dinner.  Although we felt a little underdressed (which became apparent on our final night when the greeter in the dining room asked me to change my shorts before eating, because they were too much like swimming shorts for their published dress code), X had missed his daytime sleep, so we were keen for a eat and run meal, which we achieved.  The food was nothing too special but it filled the gap.  Then off to bed.