Granada as It Should not Be Done
With all tickets to Alhambra and Granada’s other main attractions sold out, my expectations for the day’s trip were minimal. I would, I told myself, have to come again anyway, so I might as well treat this trip as an opportunity to prospect for a future visit and eliminate a few minor sites on the list.
We arrived
in Granada by car after noon and struggled to find a parking lot. We passed by
a few that were full, but we eventually found one a little farther away from
the historical centre than I would have liked. Still, it was close enough, and
we made it to the Fuente de los Gigantes on Plaza de Bib-Rambla in no time. Continuing
north, we made a stop by the Cathedral, after which we stopped at a local café
to try the local variety of churros and empty our bladders. I was a little
disappointed with the former activity, as Granadan churros seem to be much
oilier and less dense than their Mexican counterparts.
Passing by
the Islamic-style Puerta de Elvira, we began our ascent of the mountain that
overlooks Granada’s Moorish palaces. It took us some twenty minutes of huffing,
puffing, and standing aside for taxis ordered by much lazier travellers. The
view from the Church of San Nicolás could hardly have been better, though I
privately regretted that we did not come closer to sunset, as the palaces were
hopelessly backlit by the harsh winter sun. Still, the snowcapped Sierra
de Nevada looked beautiful from where we stood.
Our last stop in the city (not counting passing by the Monasterio
de San Jerónimo) was the Basílica de San Juan de Dios. I initially thought the
ten-euro entry fee was excessive, but I changed my mind when I entered the nave
from behind the altar and saw the gilding on all the interior details. On the
second floor, right above the altar, we saw the ornate silver urn of San Juan
de Dios, which stood at the centre of a chamber with walls covered in the smaller
relics of other saints. It occurred to me during the visit that displays like
these were probably part of the way in which Spain frittered away the wealth it
had gained in the New World.
We finished our tour of the city before sundown, and the
prevailing view within our party said that it would be nice to make a short
trip to the Sierra Nevada. I thought we would end by the view over the
Reservoir of Canales with its view of the snow-covered peak, but the unbridled
energy of the late risers required a greater challenge: we ended up driving all
the way to the ski town at the northern end of the city.
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