Spring Trip 2013, Days 16-17: Loire, Mont Saint Michel

I am working on a blog post that will cover the last few days, but it's not ready yet. I took a day off from thinking about pictures and/or writing because I needed to focus on dealing with a bump in the road - my car got broken into and my day bag was stolen. Everything is more or less fine now, although the funny thing is that the things the thief took were the things that had the least monetary value, and yet had the most personal value to me. Oh well, lesson learned. So while I don't have a full blog post to share, I would like to share some of the pictures I've taken over the last few days. Here they are:

Château de Chenonceau

Château de Chenonceau

Château de Chenonceau

Château de Chenonceau

Château de Chambord

Château de Chambord

Château de Chambord

Château de Cheverny

Château de Cheverny

Château de Cheverny

Mont Saint Michel

Mont Saint Michel

Mont Saint Michel

Mont Saint Michel

Mont Saint Michel

Mont Saint Michel

Tomorrow I'm heading to Normandy to see the D-day sights, and hopefully I'll find time to wrap up writing about the Loire and Mont Saint Michel. Until then, thanks again for reading.

Spring Trip 2013, Day 15: Oradour-sur-Glane

I hadn’t planned on posting again until tomorrow evening, but I had an experience during my journey to the Loire Valley today that I want to share while it is still fresh in my memory. I had a long drive ahead of me this morning, nearly five hours total from the Dordogne to the Loire, and it just so happened that I had read about and also had recommended to me a great sightseeing opportunity along the way, so I decided to use that opportunity to break up the long drive. That opportunity was at Oradour-sur-Glane, a village near Limoges in west-central France. Oradour is well-known in France for being the site of a terrible massacre of more than 600 civilians by Nazi troops during World War II. The village was left exactly as it was after the massacre and has been preserved in exactly the same condition ever since, providing visitors the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the reality of that tragic event. It is similar to the concentration camps in Germany which I have visited and written about on this blog before in that at Oradour, the French people invite the world to come see what happened there, so that they will never forget. It is an incredibly powerful and moving site to behold, and I recommend anyone visiting either the Loire or the Dordogne, especially if going between the two, to stop by and see it for themselves.

The site is appropriately spartan, taking care not to distract visitors from the sobering display they are there to witness. When you first arrive you do not see the village at all, but rather just the tastefully composed entrance to the site’s museum. The museum sets the stage for you, telling the story both in words and images of how Adolf Hitler and the Nazi party came to power in Germany, how they invaded France and occupied the northern half while allowing a sympathetic government (known as the Vichy government or Vichy France) to administer the southern half, and how events progressed leading up to the massacre at Oradour. By 1944, when the massacre took place, Germany had become stretched thin and was losing control of the vast territory, from France to Russia, that it had conquered using its blitzkrieg strategy early in the war. As Nazi repression subsequently weakened in Vichy France, resistance elements arose and grew increasingly vocal, and the Vichy government tolerated them. The Nazis took notice, however, and as control began to slip away they sought to reaffirm it. The Nazis wanted to make an example, and they chose Oradour as the place to do it. Internal communication which is documented at the museum shows that the Nazis planned a brutal crackdown, and that they even made the Vichy government aware of their plans. While it is not clear how much the Vichy government knew of what the Nazis planned, it is clear that they stood by and did nothing to prevent it. On June 10, 1944, a detachment of the Nazi Waffen SS (composed in part of forced French conscripts) surrounded Oradour and then moved their way into the village, forcing anyone they encountered to gather in the center of the village. They then confined all of the women and children to the village church and separated the men into several groups, which they took away to different parts of the village. On a pre-arranged signal the Nazis opened fire on the groups of men, killing them. They then set fire to the church, killing the women and children too. Finally the Nazis set fire to the village, completely destroying it. All told, 642 villagers were murdered, while just a handful of fortunate escapees survived.

After exiting the museum, visitors are directed toward the village itself. You emerge from the museum and find a set of stairs rising before you with a gate at the top and a stone plaque that says simply “Remember”. Upon reaching the top of the stairs you find yourself at the edge of the ruined village. It looks very much like any other French village, except every single building is a ruin. The streets look like regular French streets, the power line poles are still standing, and there are even the remains of reclining patient’s chairs in the village dentist’s office and the rusted shell of a car on the street. But all of the buildings are open to the sky, every bit of wood they ever possessed consumed by Nazi fire. There are plaques on many of the buildings indicating what they were; the post office, the school, the barber shop, the café, etc. Here and there you see plaques that tell you where each of the groups of men was murdered. Visitors are free to walk anywhere, including the very spots where the victims were killed. At the far end of the village from where visitors enter is the church, where the most heinous act – the murder of the women and children – was committed. There, too, visitors can walk inside and see what remains of the last thing on earth the victims ever saw. Finally, the village cemetery lies just outside of the ruined village, where the victims who could be identified are buried. There is also a plaque with the names of the children who were murdered there. There is a sign at the entrance to the village that says “Silence,” but for the most part it probably isn’t necessary; words escape you when you walk through the village and see what remains, imagining what was there before the massacre and what it looked like in the midst. I saw probably 20-30 other visitors in the village, and heard not a world spoken among them.

Oradour-sur-Glane

Like when I visited the Dachau concentration camp last December, I was close to tears as I took in what I was seeing. I imagined the fear, the pain, the anguish of the victims, and I felt overwhelmed with shock and grief, even as an outsider looking in separated by decades from the actual event. My recurring thought was that the entire world owes those victims a debt that it can never repay. The world could have prevented that unspeakable tragedy, but it failed to. Our own country could have intervened sooner, but we declined to. I understand that those actions and decisions are far more complicated than that. But when you see and feel what places like Oradour have to show the world and inspire within us, those decisions don’t seem so complicated after all. Like I said about Picasso’s Guernica, anyone who wants to go to war or persecute any other person or group should be required to visit a place like Oradour first, for at Oradour we see the true price of war, the true and ultimate consequence of regarding any person or group of people as less than or substantively different from ourselves. Although speaking of true and ultimate consequences, perhaps, depending on what you believe, justice was done in the end. It is not mine or anyone else’s place to judge, but for my part, I believe it was.

Spring Trip 2013, Days 12 - 14: Dordogne

Today I am in Beynac-et-Cazenac, a medieval village in the Dordogne region of southwest France. I have been here for the last two and a half days, and will be departing for the Loire Valley on Wednesday. Today marks the halfway point of my trip, which is too bad in a way, because I feel like I am just hitting my stride. Sevilla was a wonderful place to visit, and the Dordogne has been even more so. It isn't any single sight or aspect that makes this area unique and special; rather, it is the combination of everything that it does have which makes it one of the most enjoyable places I’ve ever been to in Europe.

I've got wheels now

First and perhaps foremost, the Dordogne is simply a beautiful area. Principally it is a long and wide river valley formed by the Dordogne River. It is covered with trees which are intermittently broken up by meadows and small agricultural fields, all of which are situated on the gently rising slopes on each side of the valley. Near the river are several medieval villages, including the one I am staying in, Beynac, featuring beautiful medieval stone buildings which have been carefully preserved for generations. Along with these villages are several impressive medieval castles which have also been remarkably well preserved. Perched high up at strategic points on the sides of the valley, these castles are both visually stunning and historically evocative. And finally there is the river itself, gently winding its way through the valley and providing a shimmering ribbon which perfectly adorns this already near-perfect place.

The Dordogne River Valley

A roadside shot taken from my car somewhere in the Dordogne

A view of the Dordogne River Valley from Beynac

In addition to the Dordogne’s visual beauty, there is the history and medieval character that I have already mentioned. In particular you see it in the villages, with their aforementioned medieval buildings and narrow, winding streets, and in the many great castles which dot the valley’s landscape. While the villages and castles have some modern adornments now, it is not difficult to tell that what we see here today is very much like what people saw here in the Middle Ages. In the Dordogne you can walk the same streets and step into the same buildings that people here were living in several hundred years ago. You particularly feel a connection to days of yore in the Dordogne’s castles. I toured the Château de Castelnaud and the Château de Beynac yesterday, both of which were built and used in rivalry with one another in the Middle Ages. The Château de Castelnaud has excellent exhibits and an English guide which brings the castle to life, showing visitors what life, and in particular war, was like there in the Middle Ages. As you peek through the arrow slits, peer over the ramparts, and gaze up at the high walls of the Château de Castelnaud, you can’t help but imagine what it would have been like to have lived and fought there in its heyday. You can then apply the lessons learned about medieval life and warfare at Castelnaud to the Château de Beynac, which is sparse on English descriptions but provides a grander, more visually appealing setting where you can let your medieval fantasies come to life.

(Warning: I'm about to go a little photo crazy here. I can't help it - France is just très photogénique)

Sarlat

Beynac

Domme

Château de Beynac

Interior of the Château de Beynac

Ramparts at the Château de Castelnaud

Beynac

Castelnaud (as you can tell, I like taking pictures through doors/tunnels)

Château de Castelnaud

Beynac

Beynac

Finally, the area around the Dordogne has some of the best-preserved prehistoric cave paintings in the world. If you’ve ever seen pictures of or heard of prehistoric cave paintings, they probably came from here. There are several sites to choose from, and I chose two – Lascaux II and Grotte de Rouffignac. At Lascaux II you get an excellent primer on prehistoric cave paintings. Lascaux II actually isn’t prehistoric at all – rather, it is a painstakingly reproduced replica of the nearby original Lascaux cave paintings, considered the best and most significant prehistoric cave paintings in existence. At Lascaux II they have reproduced the exact shape and surface of the original cave using concrete and resin, and utilizing prehistoric techniques, have reproduced the paintings from the original Lascaux cave to within five millimeters (they claim). They created the reproduction because in the fifteen years that the original Lascaux was open to the public, from 1948 to 1963, the original paintings suffered severe degradation due to exposure to fungus, carbon dioxide, and humidity that came along with the hordes of visitors. Thus in 1963 Lascaux was closed, and in 1983 the reproduction at Lascaux II was finished and opened to the public so that people could still experience the wonder of the Lascaux cave paintings without destroying them. At the Gotte de Rouffignac, you get to see the real thing. A little tram takes you a kilometer deep into the cavernous hillside, where you get to see original cave paintings from approximately 13,000 years ago in exactly the place and condition that they were painted in. The experience in both places is profound. When you see the paintings in person it becomes clear that they are not mere amateur scrawlings on a random cave wall. Rather, they would have taken significant skill and effort to produce. The paintings are deep within the caves, with some in places where the artists would have had to crawl significant distances to get to. At Lascaux there is evidence that scaffolding was constructed and used in the execution of the paintings, and their size, detail, and anatomical accuracy would have required considerable time investment and mastery of technique. In all of the cave paintings in the area, the principal subjects are the large animals which existed at the time of their execution: mammoths, whooly rhinoceros, horses, reindeer, etc. One of the ways that we know the paintings are authentic is that they depict anatomical details of the animals that were not known to modern people until very recent archaeological discoveries revealed them. But for as much as is known about the paintings, there is a great deal more that is not. Why were they painted? What was their purpose? Why did these prehistoric artists only paint animals, and why are there so few depictions of people? These are questions that we will never know the answers to. But in viewing these paintings, we can see that while separated by many thousands of years, in many ways we are not so different from the people who created them.

(Unfortunately you can't take pictures of any of the cave paintings - Google "Lascaux" or "Grotte de Font-de-Gaume" or "Grotte de Rouffignac" to see images)

The entrance to the Grotte de Rouffignac

The preceding paragraphs are the best summary that I can come up with of what makes the Dordogne a special place to visit, but there are also two other experiences that I’ve had here that I want to share and that have made these last three days particularly good ones. First is the wonderful experience I’ve had at the place I am staying at. It is a bed and breakfast place called Le Petite Versailles, just outside of Beynac. It is run by an older couple, Jean Claude and Francoise, who have got to be the nicest, most caring and attentive hosts I have ever had in Europe. Theirs is a gorgeous old stone country house in a perfectly tranquil setting, with simple yet warm and comfortable rooms. They have an “English” breakfast in the morning, where all of the guests sit at one table and enjoy the biggest, most delicious hotel breakfast I have ever had in my travels, all cooked by Francoise. Even if the Dordogne were less wonderful than it is, it would be worth coming here just to stay at this B&B. It really is that good. But considering that the Dordogne is also among the best destinations I have ever visited in Europe, I am determined to come back and stay here again. One of the other guests who I befriended at breakfast, Richard, told me that he has stayed here before and that Jean Claude and Francoise have talked about retiring in the near future, so I’ll have to come back soon before they do.

My French home away from home

The other experience I’ve had here that I want to talk about is dinner. Simply put, I had one of the best meals of my life on my first night here at a little restaurant in Beynac called La Petite Tonnelle (side thought: is everything here called La/Le Petite _____ ?). I picked it out of my guidebook, although if I had just dropped into Beynac and walked into one of its restaurants, I would have had a one in three chance of picking it anyway. I try hard not to make qualitative comparisons between Europe and the United States, but one thing I will say in violation of that rule is that the restaurant experience in Europe, when it is good, is generally much better than back home. That is particularly true in France, where meals are a more important part of life than they are back home (or even in other parts of Europe). One does not rush things here, particularly not dinner. Quality is much more important than quantity or rapidity. Dinner is to be enjoyed and remembered, not merely to satisfy your hunger and quickly forget about. While there are usually more affordable options (such as the €7.50 doner kebab I had for dinner tonight), prices at most restaurants reflect the greater value French people put on the quality dinner experience. For instance, my dinner on that first night cost about $55, which might seem a bit high or even outrageous to some (and I’ll admit that I would never routinely spend that much on a meal for just myself), but it was completely worth it. The setting, in the heart of charmingly medieval Beynac, was perfect. The service was excellent and typically French. The wait staff are there not just to take your order and bring you food and drink and the bill, but rather to facilitate an excellent and memorable meal for you. They helped me with my selections, made sure that I was comfortable and happy, and seemed genuinely interested in ensuring that I had the best experience possible. As for the food, it was wonderful. The first course was fresh asparagus from Castelnaud, just across the river from Beynac, with a salad and some sort of semi-cured bacon-like stuff. The second course was noisette of lamb (basically little lamb steaks) with a basil sauce, a sort of crispy pastry cone thing filled with couscous with a tangy, slightly spicy red sauce, and some lentils. I’m not sure what dessert was – some sort of mousse thing with nuts and some crispy things stuck in the top and a caramel sauce (can you sense the depth of my culinary knowledge yet?). To drink with it all I had one of my favorite beers that you often see in France (although it is actually Belgian), Leffe Blonde, and a big bottle of Vittel mineral water. Everything was perfect, and incredibly delicious. As is typical of good French cuisine, everything was also very local. Aside from the beer and the mineral water, I am sure almost all of the ingredients came from within a 50 mile radius of Beynac, if not closer. And as is also typical of good French cuisine, everything was carefully prepared and creatively presented. By the time I was finished, paid the bill, and told the wait staff that everything had been très délicieux, I realized that I had been at the restaurant for almost two hours. But those were two hours very well spent.

It is now early in the evening on my third and final day in the Dordogne. Tomorrow I leave for the Loire Valley, where I will begin the downhill slope, the second half of my trip. I will truly regret having to leave Jean Claude and Francoise and their lovely home, but I fully intend to come back some time before they retire. For now, however, it’s about time to seek some dinner, so I’ll go do that, but I look forward to the opportunity to share more of my experiences with you all from the Loire in a couple of days.

Checking in

Today I am in the Dordogne region in southwest France. I've been here since yesterday and I have one more day here before I move on to the Loire Valley. I'm working on a blog post for tomorrow that will cover all of my experiences in the Dordogne (which I'll tell you now has been among the best destinations I've ever been to in Europe), but for today I wanted to share this video that I took today. It's a panoramic view of the Dordogne River Valley from atop the Chateau de Beynac. Enjoy, and thanks for reading/viewing.

Spring 2013 Trip, Days 10 & 11: Sevilla

I have been in Sevilla, my last destination in Spain before moving on to France, for the last day and a half. Without a doubt it has been my favorite place in Spain. In particular, Sevilla is a vibrant and beautiful place at night. It reminds me very much of Rome in that regard, and in fact I would say that Sevilla’s nocturnal beauty and character rival Rome’s. Rome has the edge as the best place in Europe after dark, but Sevilla is close (and Paris is also very much in that conversation). I stayed out late last night walking around the Santa Cruz neighborhood, up and down both sides of the Guadalquivir River, and had a tapeo dinner at a few different bars in the Triana neighborhood. I made my way home around midnight, and the Sevillanos were still out strolling, having drinks and tapas, and enjoying the perfectly warm, clear evening. The whole city is gorgeous after dark, especially along the banks of the river and in the old Santa Cruz neighborhood. The beautiful buildings, orange trees and flowers everywhere, nighttime lighting, and people filling the streets and squares, make for a run, relaxed, and enchanting evening ambience. When you’re out late in Sevilla, you feel like you’re part of the party, doing exactly as the locals do and feeling welcome to join them.

The streets of Sevilla at night

The Guadalquivir River (apologies - the iPhone isn't very good at night or distance shots)

The Torre del Oro, Sevilla

A bartender performing the venerated ritual of slicing the jamón

But before all of that, I attended a flamenco show at a great place in the Santa Cruz neighborhood called Auditorio Alvarez Quintero. I walked around to several different places to scope out the scene before settling on the place I went to, picking the one that seemed the most serious and least gimmicky. They have nightly performances of traditional flamenco song and dance with performers changing frequently, and while it is a bit touristy (the majority of the attendees were tourists like me), the performance was outstanding. It started with a guitar player and a singer on stage performing an introductory duet. The singing was almost like impassioned wailing, and the guitar work was masterful. I have heard some really good classical guitarists in Spain, but that guy was absolutely the best. After the introduction, a male and female dancer came on stage along with the singer and guitarist. In that first dance the male dancer helped to provide rhythm by stomping and clapping with the music while the female dancer did her thing. Later, they switched roles and the male dancer took center stage, after which in the finale they danced together. The dancing was incredibly impressive. The dancers’ focus was intense, and as the performance went on you could see that it was very physically demanding and technically challenging, and yet both executed their routines with remarkable grace and skill. While it was a performance largely for tourists, I got the feeling that it was very much a legitimate and high-quality example of traditional flamenco. The artists were clearly absorbed in their performances, exuding the soul and passion – el duende – that typifies great flamenco. While I was a little bit skeptical beforehand, I was very impressed by the end and enjoyed it thoroughly.

The flamenco performers taking their bows

So like I said, I was out fairly late after the flamenco show last night and therefore got a somewhat late start to the day today. I was still feeling the effects of the bar grub I had eaten for dinner the night before (nearly everything I ate involved frying in some way), so I skipped breakfast. I had arranged to go on a walking tour of Sevilla’s historic city center, so I walked to Plaza Nueva where the tour was supposed to start at 10:30. On the way I stopped by Starbucks for a coffee. Starbucks in Europe is exactly like Starbucks at home, and while I feel a tad guilty for patronizing a huge international chain when I’m traveling, my desire for the familiarity of a Starbucks cappuccino outweighed my guilt this morning. When I got to Plaza Nueva I found the tour group forming. It was about twenty people, mostly Americans although also with some folks from Israel and New Zealand, led by an excellent local guide named Alfonso. For nearly two hours he showed us around Sevilla’s old town, pointing out little places and things that you would never see or notice without a knowledgeable local to show you. I learned about how Sevilla was originally a Roman city called Hispalis, one of the oldest (established in the 3^rd century BC) and most important cities in Spain during that time. Later after the Roman Empire collapsed the Visigoths ruled Spain and Sevilla for three hundred years, after which time the Moors from North Africa crossed the Mediterranean and conquered Spain, ruling here for five hundred years until finally the Reconquista brought Sevilla under Christian rule from the 13^th century onward. As a result, like much of the rest of southern Spain, Sevilla today reflects the cultural diversity of its history, and the tour really brought that history to life. After the tour I felt like I knew and understood the culture and history of Sevilla immensely better than I would have otherwise. The tour cost me 15 euros, and I consider that money extremely well spent. While most of the time I think tours and guides and things of the sort are best avoided, because often they are more interested in extracting money from you than in helping you to understand what it is you are seeing, on occasion you find tours like Alfonso’s that are extremely worthwhile, adding invaluably to your understanding of the place you are visiting.

The streets of Sevilla in daylight

After the tour I stopped in a bar near Plaza Nueva for a quick plate of paella for lunch, and now I’m back at my hotel taking a bit of a break before going to see the Alcazar and the Cathedral. After that I’ll try to get to bed as early as possible, because I need to get up at 5:00 in the morning to catch my flight to France (I should have planned that better). Tomorrow I will be in the Dordogne region of southwest France, so for now I bid Spain, and you all, adios and au revoir until next time. Thanks for reading.

Spring 2013 Trip, Days 8 & 9: Granada

Today I am in Granada, my second to last destination in Spain before I move on to France. It was a bit of a haul from Toledo to Granada – 4.5 hours by train – but because I left Toledo pretty early, I got in to Granada with plenty of time to do some sightseeing. Getting to my hotel from the train station was quick and easy. My hotel is a nice place, certainly the nicest I’ve stayed in on this trip. After checking in I got settled, rested for a bit, and then went out for a short walk around the immediate area of my hotel. My hotel is near Plaza Nueva, the main square in Granada’s historic city center, and the area was absolutely saturated with touristy hawkers. Beggars, street performers, scammers, souvenir pushers, and the like. You see the same kind of thing in many popular places around Europe, but rarely at the levels I’ve seen in Spain. Apparently there’s a market for it, but I have never been a buyer. Given that Spain’s economy is still in recession and its unemployment rate is around 25%, however, it makes sense that you’d see more of it here as people are looking for any way they can find to get by. In Toledo I saw a well-dressed and groomed older guy sitting on a curb reading a book with a cup and a sign that said simply in Spanish “I need your help”. I considered asking him why he needed help, and I wish I had. As a traveler it’s hard to tell when people really need help and when they’re just trying to scam you. Unfortunately, the scammers usually far outnumber those who really need help. Although really I suppose they all need help, and some are just more willing to take what they need than others. Hopefully coming here and spending a bit of money in the local economy will do some bit of good.

I decided to use the few hours I had available on that first day to explore the Albayzín, Granada’s old Moorish quarter. Granada was always an important city when this region was under Moorish rule, but it became the most important and the last stronghold of the Moors during the Reconquista, as Christian forces pushed further south and took other important cities like Toledo. For a time after the Christians finally completed their conquest of the Iberian Peninsula, they allowed Muslims to live with relative freedom and autonomy, giving rise to Moorish communities like the Albayzín. The Albayzín is still a center for Granada’s Muslim community; there is a beautiful mosque, traditional Moorish geometric artwork, halal restaurants and food stores, and even a few people speaking what I think was Arabic (or whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t any language I recognize). It feels exotic, but safely so. It is at times very gritty, but also vibrant and intriguing and beautiful. There is a strong bohemian, hedonistic, hippy contingent there as well. According to my guidebook, Spanish locals call these people pies negros – “black feet” – which is certainly an accurate description given what I saw. You see them loitering around all over the Albayzin, especially in the busier areas, often playing guitars and singing with self-produced CDs for sale. The thing that struck me is that many, if not most, of them are in fact not Spanish. Those who speak Spanish often speak it with a non-Spanish accent that even I can detect, or at times you hear other languages (particularly French and English) spoken among them. A surprising number of them are young Americans. Frankly, they very much reminded me of the similar community you see back home in parts of Portland. The Albayzín is on a hill, so no matter where you go you’re either walking up or downhill. I made the steep climb to one of the highest parts, the St. Nicholas viewpoint, an overlook where you get one of the best views in Granada and great shots across the valley of the Alhambra. After taking a few pictures there I set off further into the Albayzin to explore, walked around and took some pictures, and then made my way back into the regular city. I found a good doner kebab place and grabbed a quick dinner, and then retired early in order to get up early the next day for my Alhambra reservation.

View of the Alhambra from the Albayzín

Apparently there are Boy Scouts in Spain. Bonus: the local troop number is only one less than my old troop (525)

A street in the Albayzín

The mosque in the Albayzín

A square in the Albayzín

The next, day, which is today, was a full one. On the agenda was the main reason for my visit to Granada, the famed Alhambra, along with some exploration of the old town and visits to the Cathedral and Royal Chapel. It has been one of the better days of this trip so far. I started at the Alhambra, where I had a 9:30 AM reservation. The Alhambra is an extremely popular sight (for good reason) and the number of tickets available for admission each day is limited, so making a reservation ahead of time is essential. The way the system works is that you make a reservation and then show up at the Alhambra on the day of your visit to pick up your ticket, at which point you can enter the grounds and tour all of the minor sights within. Your reservation time is for entry to the Palacios Nazaries, the old Moorish palace which is the Alhambra’s main draw, and you can only enter the palace at the precise time printed on your ticket. In order to make sure that I would have time to get my ticket and be at the Palacios Nazaries on time, I got up early and was out the door by 8:00. There is a convenient mini bus that runs up to the Alhambra from near Plaza Nueva, so I took that and was at the Alhambra’s main entrance by 8:20 or so. Even at that relatively early juncture the line for same day tickets was huge, and many of the people in line probably didn’t get to see the Alhambra today. I got in the much shorter line to pick up my ticket, and within 10 minutes or so I was strolling into the Alhambra grounds.

Alhambra grounds

Alhambra grounds

Now before I go any further, I should explain what the Alhambra actually is. Like I’ve been talking about a lot in my time visiting Toledo and Granada, this region used to be part of a Muslim Moorish kingdom called Al-Andalus (from which the modern name Andalucia comes from). For more than 700 years, from the 8^th through the 15^th centuries, Al-Andalus was thriving while the rest of Europe was in the midst of the Dark Ages. Compared to the rest of Europe at the time it was an advanced and flourishing society, with greater wealth, scientific knowledge, and technological advancement. For most of that period Granada was an important city, but not the kingdom’s most important. It wasn’t until the Reconquista, when Christians went on the offensive and gradually drove the Spanish Moors out of the region, that Granada became the chief city of Al-Andalus due to the loss of other important cities like Toledo, Cordoba, and Sevilla. There had long been a fort and dwellings at the site of the Alhambra, but it wasn’t until the Reconquista, when Granada’s importance grew, that the site was transformed into the lavish palace that exists there today. Along with serving as a stronghold for the Spanish Moors, the Alhambra was also home to a couple of thousand residents, and the site of the Nazarid sultans’ palace (the aforementioned Palacios Nazaries). It was a symbol of their power and the refinement of their civilization, until it was taken in the Reconquista in 1492.

One more thing before I continue. I am trying hard not to strictly define the Moors of Al-Andalus as strictly Muslim, nor as "foreigners". By the time of the Alhambra's heydey they were every bit as "indigenous" as anyone else in Spain. Also, while they were largely Muslim, they were not strictly so. There were Christians and Jews living in Al-Andalus too. That is a topic I could go on and on about, but I wanted to give that short disclaimer before moving on.

The Alhambra (this part is actually a later Christian addition)

The Alhambra

I wanted to give that brief background on the Alhambra first in order to give context to what I am about to describe. So like I said, I got in to the Alhambra grounds with about an hour to kill before my Palacios Nazaries entry time. I took my time exploring the grounds, which I found to be immaculately tended by a small army of groundkeepers. It is a very big complex, probably about a kilometer long and maybe a third to a half of a kilometer wide, and the whole thing is full of gardens, groomed pathways, and the like. Inside and out, it is absolutely beautiful. There are flower beds everywhere, trimmed hedges, birds singing, fountains splashing, and incredible views of the surrounding area. It wasn’t difficult to find plenty to see in the hour before my entry time. When my entry time did come, I jumped in the line and joined the herd entering the Palacios Nazaries. Signs and barriers guide you on a circuitous route through the palace, taking you through several rooms and courtyards. You know that you’re seeing a building that is both quite old and historically significant, but what really grabs your attention is its sheer beauty. The still pools of water, bubbling fountains, beautiful pillars and arches, polished stone and intricate carvings and tile work, are all an architecturally cohesive joy to see. The incorporation of water elements and flowers and shrubs into living spaces is also impressive and unique. It is a beautifully peaceful and serene place, in spite of the crowds of people.

After the Palacios Nazaries I took some time to walk around the Alcazar (the old fort and the oldest part of the Alhambra) and the Generalife Gardens (that’s pronounced Hen-Er-Ahl-Eef-Ay by the way). Both were also excellent, and basically more of the same. The views from the Alcazar were the best in Granada; you can see the peaks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the south and for many miles in every direction surrounding Granada. It is hard to adequately describe the Alhambra, and I feel like a bit of a fool trying to come up with more superlatives for it. All I can really say is that it is probably the most beautiful man-made thing I have ever seen.

The Alhambra

The Alhambra

The Alhambra

After the Alhambra I did some more poking around, including a walk around the city’s old historic core, another stroll through the Albayzin, and a walk out along Granada’s little river. It’s getting late in the day now, and I still have to go see the interior of the Cathedral and the Royal Chapel before they close, so I’m going to go do that now and then get some dinner and get to bed. Tomorrow I leave for Sevilla. Until next time, thanks for reading and hasta luego amigos.