An Anachronist Abroad--Granada

by Dona Anabel Ravaya de Guzman

"Give him alms, woman, for there is nothing in this life, nothing, so
sad as to be blind in Granada." -- carved (in Spanish) into one of the
main gates into the Alhambra in 1492 by the poet Francisco A. de Icaza

Granada is second in my affections only to Toledo. It is a town of
winding, narrow streets, many hills, whitewashed walls and red-tiled
roofs, the red-orange towers and walls of the Alhambra, of mild, sunny
autumn days and gentle morning mists of rain.  This city was the last
stronghold of the Moors, the end of the Reconquista, and the final
resting place of Isabel and Fernando, and later of their unfortunate
daughter Juana la Loca and her heartless spouse Felipe el Hermoso.

My aunt and I arrived here on the evening of her birthday.  We were
tired from our long, slow, bumpy caravan ride from Sevilla, so we
retired early, after I promised her a fine dinner the next day.  When
the innkeeper heard that it was my aunt's 65th birthday, however, he
left a bottle of fine Spanish cava (a sparkling apple drink, used
instead of champagne at Spanish and Latin American weddings) in our
room, a pleasant contrast to how we were treated in Sevilla.

While on our journey, however, I had noticed many small and middling
farms, fields of cotton, just-harvested wheat, orchards of olives and
groves of oranges and pomegranates.  I also noticed great numbers of
wild hares which were frightened by the sound of our passing caravan
and ran across the fields and the rocky, sandy terrain among them.  In
one instance I saw a hawk take flight from a tree in pursuit of dinner,
in another I saw two men and three hunting dogs give chase, whether to
drive the creatures from their farm or bring them to the table I cannot
say. Spain, Espana, is "the land of the rabbits", the word "sphan"
given to the country by the Carthagenians who had settled here before
the Romans, Celts, Visigoths and Moors.

In the south, however, almost all of the place names have Arabic
roots.  Granada may be the Spanish word for pomegranate, but it was
derived from the word "garnathah" which translates into "mountain cave"
or "mountain fortress".  The pomegranate motif is canted everywhere
here, including the present device of Spain and the old royal shield of
Fernando and Isabel, and the badge of Catalina (Catherine) de Aragon
(another of their daughters who married badly).

The inn where we lodged, the Hotel Guadalupe, was literally across the
street from the entrance to the Alhambra, at the top of the highest
mountain overlooking the city.  The Alhambra was begun in the 1240s by
the first of the Nasrid kings, Ibn el-Ahmar, or Alhamar, and finished
chiefly by Yusuf I and his son Mohammed V between 1334 and 1391.  The
great citadel once held a great complex of houses, barracks, schools,
baths, and gardens surrounded by watchtowers and thick seemingly
impenetrable walls. All that remains today are the Alcazaba, the
fortress itself, and the Casa Real, the royal palace.  The place had
fallen to decay by the 19th century when Washington Irving, the
American ambassador to Spain, found the place, lived there awhile and
wrote his Tales of the Alhambra in 1832.  The resulting widespread
attention to the place led to its revival and reconstruction.

The Alcazaba is dominated by the Torre de la Vela, the highest
watchtower, upon which a bell was placed by Fernando and Isabel.  From
this tower can be seen the entire city, and the plains of the vega
beyond. The tower was used by the Moors to call soldiers to arms, and
the bell by the Christians later to signal the opening and closing of
the irrigation gates of the region.  The view from the bell tower is
breathtaking.  To the north is the Albaicin, a lesser hill where the
Moorish commoners lived, now populated by Christians and university
students; to the northeast the Sacromonte, another hill, the "gypsy
quarter"; to the west the Catedral and "downtown Granada".  Across the
wide vega beyond the city, the Sierra Nevada beckons in the distance,
the only other mountain range among the many here after the Pyrenees to
have snow almost year round.  The climb to the watchtower is steep.  My
aunt insisted that one of the temporary illuminators I hired render an
image of her at the top.  "No one will believe I made it here
otherwise," she said.  "I can hardly believe it myself."

The Wine Gate and the gardens before it stand between the fortress and
the Renaissance palace of Carlos V.  The palace stands incongruously
where the Sultan's private apartments once stood.  The square building,
begun in 1526 and designed by Pedro Machuca, a pupil of Michelangelo,
now houses a museum of Moorish art and artifacts.  As I studied the
many pieces, I thought of Sir Sirhan and hoped one day he would find
his way here.  In the middle of the building is a circular courtyard
where once were staged bullfights and mock tournaments. Now its
excellent acoustics are used for symphony concerts and outdoor plays.
(Ah, what a site this would be!)

From here a wisteria-covered walkway leads to the Casa Real.  Delicate
apartments, murmuring fountains and streams, tranquil pools and lush
fragrant gardens form a sharp contrast to the walls and towers which
surround and hide them from view.  The Casa Real is divided into three
sections.  The first, the mexuar, is where the business, government and
administration of the kingdom were conducted.  Here are the oratory and
the "Golden Room", with delicate gilding on the walls in the familiar
geometric and floral motifs of the Moors.  From the windows here are
grand views of the Albaicin and Sacromonte.

Deeper into the palace is the serrallo, the state rooms where the
sultans held court and entertained their ambassadors.  The designs on
the tiles, the delicate plaster and stone on the walls and ceilings
become more elaborate and spell-binding.  At the heart of the serrallo
is the Patio de los Arrayanes, the Court of the Myrtles, with a long
goldfish pond surrounded by fragrant shrubs.  At its north end is the
Hall of the Ambassadors, with a magnificent cedar dome.  It was here
that Boabdil signed the terms of surrender to the Christians, and from
these rooms that the Edict of Expulsion was signed only months later.

A small, elaborate hallway with a splendid ceiling leads from the west
into the harem, where only the sultan, his family and most trusted
servants, usually eunuchs, were allowed.  The heart of the harem is the
Courtyard of the Lions. Twelve stone lions dating back to pre-Moorish
days carry on their backs a circular marble fountain. Four streams of
water flow from this fountain to the surrounding state apartments.

The south apartment, perhaps the most beautiful, is the Salon of the
Abencerrajes, with delicate stalactite ceiling and star-shaped cupola
reflected in the pool below.  It has been said that here Boabdil's
father beheaded 16 members of the powerful Abencerrajes family, whose
chief had been caught and accused as the lover of the Sultana Zoraya,
and piled the heads in the font.  The shadowy stains on one side of the
font are said to be of the blood of the members of this unlucky
household.

The eastern apartment was the King's Rooms.  The two ceiling frescoes
here look Christian, for the images are of men and women, but the
subjects are Moorish.  Ten turbaned men in regal robes, sheathed
scimitars in decorative scabbards at their belts, seem to be in deep
discussion.  In the other, a Moorish knight is rescuing a maiden from a
wild man of the woods.

The northern apartment is the Hall of the Two Sisters, so named for the
two large marble slabs on the floor.  The abode of the Sultan's
favorite, its ceiling is a superb and intricate pattern of honeycombed
cells held up by tiles and arches of delicate and exquisite detail.

The Banos Arabes, the semi-subterranean bathhouse, was reached by a
stairway almost hidden between the harem and the serrallo.  Here the
sultan's favorites luxuriated in brightly tiled mosaic baths and
performed their ablutions lit by star-shaped holes in the ceiling
above. A balcony overlooks the main room.  From here the sultan would
pick his favorite for the evening.  It was in the gardens adjacent to
the baths that the Sultana Zoraya had her rendezvous with her
unfortunate lover.

The Generalife, the summer palace, derives its name from the Arabic
Gennat Alarif (Garden of the Architect).  It is reached by a verdant
promenade running between it and the main palace, the promenade a
topiary of green fortress walls and arches.  Its gardens and fountains
were in gentle bloom even in late October, and a lovely peaceful haven
from the cares of travel and of the world.  My aunt and I were loath to
leave this place, but there was more to see in this city, and we only
had this one day and the half of the next to stay here.


from the May 1998 Seahorse