Two On Tour

Heading inland to visit what everyone informs us is the ‘real’ Spain: Weeks 1 and 2.

Saturday 6 December

I can’t explain why the more we travel, the more I seem to get anxious about travel days. After all, very little has ever gone wrong. So it is that I’m typically apprehensive about moving on to Granada today.

And, of course, everything goes like clockwork.

We’re at Estepona bus station a full hour before our bus is scheduled. I’ve allowed lots of contingency time in case we have to walk there—it’s a public holiday and taxis might scarce. But they’re not. Of course.

When it arrives, the bus is already pretty full. All the double seats are taken, but we find seperate seats a couple of rows apart. A paraplegic woman is carried onto the bus and placed on a seat across the aisle from me with her carer.

Soon, we’re beyond Marbella and heading into the unknown—if Fuengirola, Torremolinos and Malaga qualify as the unknown. At Malaga, we unload our cases only to find ourselves climbing back onto the same bus when it departs an hour later for Granada with a new driver.

The bus is much emptier now as we climb into the hills above Malaga. K is drowsy (it’s the cough medicine) and sleeps most of the remaining way to Granada. I look out the window, catching glimpses of the snow-covered Sierra Nevada looming ahead of us.

In Granada, a short taxi rides brings us to the closest access point to our Airbnb, from where I lug our suitcases up a narrow lane of cobbled steps. Inside, the house is cosy and tastefully decorated. We’re going to like it here. The sun is setting, so we head up to the roof to get our first views of the city:

The closest supermarket is cramped and busy. Normal? Or long-weekend crowds? We’ll soon see. At the sole checkout, we’re served by an affable Chinese chap (in Spanish, naturally). K’s already found a ramen joint on Google Maps, but this is Spain so it doesn’t open until eight o’clock. We pass the time by joining the crowds wandering up and down a street lined with tall ginkgo trees, their leaves glowing golden yellow. It’s a spectacular sight to which the photo below doesn’t do justice.

At eight o’clock we present ourselves at Ramen Dojo, the first customers of the evening. Our ‘early’ eating habits mean it’s thin on atmosphere, but what it lacks in ambiance, it makes up for in authenticity:

Sunday 7 December

Mornings in Spain are unmistakably dark now. When the sun finally rises, the flat remains murky well into mid-morning, reviving the spectre of our gloomy flat in Rabat. Eventually, the sunshine creeps in around ten o’clock and my concerns are dispelled.

It’s a Sunday and K’s still labouring with a dry cough and a lack of energy. We lay low. An hour before sunset, I venture outdoors to potter about a little. I’m surprised to find that Granada isn’t just busy, it’s swarming. The area around the cathedral is full of narrow alleys packed as tight as Mongkok. It’s all a far cry from my recent Sunday afternoon ambles in quiet Estepona. Skirting away from the historic centre, the tourist hordes give way to a more local crowd enjoying the Christmas markets. The autumn leaves glow in the late-afternoon sun, while in the distance the peaks of the Sierra Nevada rise above the city. It’s still jostling, but immediately away from the Christmas fair and markets, Granada is peaceful:

I’m back at the flat just in time to catch the last sun of the day on the peaks of the Sierra Nevada from the roof:

Monday 8 December

Sometimes it pays to wander around without first checking photos of a destination on Google Maps. Today is such a day. We’re aiming for a viewpoint a few minutes up the hillside from the flat. When we arrive, we can see it’s busy. Then we see why. Before us is a stunning view of the Alhambra set against the snow-capped Sierra Nevada. And if that’s not enough, as we’re watching a couple of buskers doing their thing, a couple jump out of the crowd and start dancing. It’s quite a moment:

We continue wandering the quiet lanes of the Albaicin neighbourhood and could go on all afternoon, but K’s still nursing a nasty cough and calls time for the day.

Our return route takes us from the sublime to the prosaic: we need to pop by our local Carrefour, which we find in a neighbourhood that wouldn’t look out of place in Manchester or Birmingham. But Granada has one more ace up its sleeve this afternoon. As we walk back to the flat with backpacks heaving with groceries, the late afternoon sunshine is illuminating the golden leaves on the trees lining Calle Gran Via de Colon:

Tuesday 9 December

I’ll be busy with the new FB Magazine for the next week, so today is a day of rolling up my sleeves and getting stuck in. We do a late-afternoon reccie of the Alhambra: we have tickets for tomorrow and decide to get in our steps by working out how to walk there. We end up doing a full loop of the perimeter just as it’s emptying for the day. The leaves are falling fast now. The trees will be bare in a few days.

Wednesday 10 December

It’s Alhambra day. It’s also our first day in Spain that we can feel winter knocking. At the last moment, I decide to throw my scarf in my backpack. I’m glad I do.

Granada is steely grey this morning. The autumn leaves were so colourful against the empty blue sky earlier this week, but today they look forlorn. There’s a nip in the air and before we get anywhere near the Alhambra I’ve already wrapped my scarf around my neck.

The Alhambra grounds are still quiet as we perch on a wall nibbling locally-made sesame snaps, gazing across to the old Albaicin neighbourhood tumbling down the hillside opposite us, and waiting our turn to enter the Nasrid Palaces.

It might have started quiet, but once inside the palaces we join a heaving wave of fellow tourists slowly shuffling along the designated route. We expected no less. Thankfully, no one is holding others up by posing for the perfect IG shot and we’re able to make our way through at a slow but mostly steady pace. I’ve read up on the Alhambra on Wikipedia article before arriving, but I’ve deliberately glossed over the photos to allow myself the pleasure of being wowed and awed, which I am. This is not IKEA.

An hour later, the palaces are done with us and we’re left to wander around the rest of the Alhambra grounds. K’s still disappointed that the sun’s not shining, but I’m rather enjoying the greyness. There are still signs of life: ripe, open pomegranates hang from trees like claw machines, squash plants stand in well-tilled rows, while the oranges here in Granada are still ripening.

We continue wandering up to the Generalife villa and back down, pause for a slice of pizza, then enter the Palace of Charles V, the Renaissance palace built after the reconquista. It might look spectacular from aerial photos, but up close it’s embarrassingly unimaginative compared with the intricate carved stucco of the Nasrid Palaces.

Finally, we enter the Alcabaza fortress for magnificent views across the city and beyond to the Sierra Nevada. This is an excellent location to get a sense of the geography of Granada.

We’ve been on our feet for five hours, so we retreat to the flat for a cuppa. I pull on my headphones and spend a content couple of hours fine-tuning my Festive 20.

We time our arrival at a nearby backstreet place perfectly: it’s not yet eight o’clock, but as equal part bar and restaurant it’s already buzzing. Beer and wine arrive within moments, and we get our first experience of the ‘free’ (offset by higher drink prices) Granada tapas—a small plate of beef stew. By the time our main dish arrives shortly afterwards, the room is packed and even the tables outside in the chilly street have filled up. I’m feeling a bit more confident ordering in Spanish with every meal we eat out, and tonight expands my comfort zone another degree or two.

Thursday 11 December

After our very own ‘Tales of the Alhambra’ yesterday, I get my head down to work. I’m going to be busy for much of the next week. There are times when I genuinely feel more-or-less retired, and there are times like now when I feel very much the digital nomad. I’m looking forward to feeling more of the former as we head into the new year.

A late afternoon walk takes us back to the same Christmas market I wandered through last Sunday. It seems much of it was only there for the long holiday weekend; the part that remains is quiet and still gradually opening for the day. We’re in this part of town to check out another supermarket. Inside, it has one of those escalators designed for shopping trolleys, and I’m suddenly back on Naxos in late 2023 riding one of these contraptions for the first time, marvelling at how much fun it is to shop for groceries in unfamiliar places. Much of that initial sense of wonder disappeared some time ago, but a spot of grocery shopping in a new place is still more than diverting enough.

Friday 12 December

I’m still focused on work, but I take an hour out to catch up with Adam in Hong Kong. He and Vicky are looking to wrap up in Hong Kong some time in the second half of 2026, so we’ll probably have a couple more nomads to run into as we bumble around the world—at least until they decide where to settle. Like us, they’re paying serious attention to both Thailand and Spain. It’s a pleasure to catch up.

Our sole business outside the flat today is to visit the nearby cathedral. It’s impressive, but its vast, squat, gawdy interior leaves me (stone?) cold. This is what a convention centre might look like if Trump chose the decor. Still, it’s worth seeing, especially as it’s right there in front of us every time we stand on the roof terrace of our Airbnb.

Saturday 13 December

Still working hard, but we get out today to wander more of the historic Albaicin neighbourhood. Since visiting the Alhambra, from where we could gaze across to the Albaicin, we have a clearer idea of where it sits, tumbling down the hillside. We use a couple of viewpoints marked on Google Maps as destinations as good as any to head for. The first is overrun by two tourist buses, but by climbing higher to a second viewpoint at the top of the neighbourhood we find just a handful of people sitting on a wall peering down at the city below. The sun is still too high to get decent photos, but we’ll return another day closer to sunset for the full experience.

We’re not far from the Sacromonte cave houses, but we have an appointment at Carrefour in the opposite direction. We leave the cave houses for another day and wander back down into the city to do our groceries.

Later, we bag the last indoor seats at a local bar and settle down to discuss cruises. K’s keen to visit Antarctica for her 50th two years from now. I have reservations about crossing the Southern Ocean for my first experience of cruising. Like K, I want to visit the Antarctic. I’d just feel more comfortable with some experience of cruising before ploughing into some of the fiercest seas on the planet. We come to no conclusions for now except to explore our options more widely. Great little bar to spend the evening. Another one we can happily return to:

Sunday 14 December

When I’m done with work, I head out for a solo stroll around the Albaicin. The leaves were in full autumnal glow just a few days ago, but they’re rapidly disappearing now. It’s noticably cooler, and it feels like winter’s arrived in Granada.

K insists on cooking with the window open, which makes the main room absolutely freezing. I take to sitting in the armchair in the bedroom while she cooks, practising Spanish conversations with Duolingo Lily.

Monday 15 December

A final day of work on FB Magazine. I’m expecting another project shortly, but in the meantime I’m looking forward to a day of leisure on Tuesday. It’s been full-on for a while now and I’ve almost forgotten that I’m supposed to be mostly retired.

We discover Granada’s equivalent of CitySuper in the basement of its refreshingly old-fashioned department store. It even has an oyster bar where a few customers are busy shucking oysters and downing a caña or two on a Monday afternoon. It’s impossible not to have a soft spot for this country. On our way home after coffee and cake in a nearby cafe, we stumble across a 12-piece trombone orchestra playing Christmas carols:

This time last year, we were already back at mum’s from our pre-Christmas adventures in Croatia. As we head into the final ten days before Christmas, I’m enjoying the festive atmosphere but feeling a little isolated from it. There’s a reassuring cultural familiarity, but I feel as if I’m on the outside looking in. If I’m honest, I’m looking forward to Christmas Day with more company.

Tuesday 16 December

I’m done with work for now. It’s been full-on for most of the month. While the income will be welcome, I feel that I haven’t fully engaged with Granada yet—let alone kept a handle on admin.

It’s not as if we suddenly bolt outside and do more stuff. It’s more an opportunity to catch up with the trivial: sorting photos, clearing email, and filing bumpf. When we do head outside, it’s to see the tombs of notoriously militant Catholic fanatics, Ferdinand and Isabella—or King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella I of Castile to give them their full titles. The Royal Chapel is typically floor-to-ceiling Catholic bling, and the tomb itself is grotesquely flamboyant. Given her front-row seat as a key perpetrator of the Spanish Inquisition, I’m somewhat surprised to find a prayer praising Queen Isabella on display in front of her unwieldly tomb. I guess there are shades of grey.

Beneath the marble tombs in the crypt, the original plain lead coffins are on display. Whatever misery Ferdinand and Isabella’s religious intolerance may have caused, they’re major historical figures and it’s poignant to pause a while by their coffins:

Outside, an overnight storm has stripped any plucky leaves that had held on tight until yesterday. Outside our local Carrefour, for a second time, we encounter the politest beggar I’ve ever run into. He stands patiently outside the supermarket door, says ‘Hola’ with a polite respectful nod, and pushes it no further. It seems almost churlish not to slip him a euro or two, but I’m convinced I’m not carrying any change. “Lo siento, no tengo monedas“, I mumble sheepishly as we pass him again on the way out. Moments later, I slip my hand inside my jacket pocket and discover that I do have a few coins after all. Next time.

Mid-evening, a forwarded Facebook post from Gaynor pops up on the Friday Drinkers WhatsApp group alerting us that Georgie Eadington recently passed away. A bit of scrolling on Georgie’s Facebook page reveals that she received a late diagnosis of bile duct cancer. It had already spread to her liver and stomach, and she died just ten days after her diagnosis. I’m guessing she was about 60. With poor Suzette Ackerman also long since passed, this (late 90s?) photo that Gaynor posts is so very sad:

Wednesday 18 December

It’s a sunny, if chilly day. Perfect for walking. Just south of the Alhambra, I’ve spotted an area of scenic gardens centred on the Carmen de los Martires historic home. The gardens are largely buried in fallen leaves, but the area is peaceful and has great views across the city, albeit directly into the low sun. At the centre of the gardens is a small lake, where a mallard takes a shine to us and follows us all the way round.

We snap a few photos of the views and retreat to the flat until it’s late enough for Granada’s restaurant kitchens to open. We passed a Korean restaurant on our way up to the gardens this afternoon. K wants to try it. I’m a bit disappointed that we’re not heading to a lively bar, but then it’s been a while since I’ve had bibimbap. The restaurant is disappointingly quiet, but the food is just fine.

Thursday 18 December

It’s another day for doing little more than taking ourselves for a stroll. Today we point ourselves in the direction of a viewpoint we could see from the Carmen de los Martires gardens yesterday, then improvise. We’re no longer sure which viewpoint we were originally aiming for, but we eventually find ourselves looking down on Granada from here:

Two teenage girls are sitting on the grass just off to the right. As far as we can see without brashly intruding, they’re making Christmas decorations. Nice spot for a bit of craft work.

We wander back down to the city using a different route, which takes us past several colourful murals. This one was less colourful, but its parlous state matched the derelict building:

Friday 19 December

When we started travelling, we imagined spending half our time exploring and half our time relaxing wherever home was at any given moment. It’s true that we spend a lot of our time indoors, but we also get out to explore something nearly every day. That wasn’t something we foresaw, and sometimes it can be exhausting—mentally if not physically. An occasional day spent recharging at home can go a long way.

So it is that today we give exploring a miss. Shortly before a drizzle-flecked dusk, I pop out to stretch my legs and locate Granada railway station, where we’ll be picking up our hire car next week. And that’s all. No guilt at not using our time ‘properly’.

We’ve now been in Spain for six weeks: almost as long as we spent in Morocco. I’m suddenly aware how relatively brief our stay was in Morocco. After six weeks, we were winding down and preparing to arrive in Spain. Six weeks into Spain, we feel we’re just getting started. I’m enjoying this slower pace so much that Morocco now feels like one long rush.

Weeks 3 and 4 in Granada in a separate post.