June 24: Andalucia - Granada

How can words fully express the feeling of love at first sight? I don't think that they can. Because the experience is never an aesthetic sensation it's more of a sudden awareness of a strong feeling that envelopes you without warning. A feeling of deep peace and happiness is present. Of knowing a familiarity. Time collapses and seems to slow down. The familiarity blurs into some sort of recognition - similar to catching a reflection of oneself in a mirror as we walk through a dark room. Similar to when we recognise a twin soul. I wonder if this experience can be extended to new places that we visit for the first time. Where you seem to follow instincts and feelings as they lead you down streets and alleyways that are rich with familiarity, that make sense as you twist and turn your navigations, unaided by a map of any kind, but know exactly where you are going.


Following such an urge led me on my first night in Granada to find the Place de los Tristes, and allowed me a perfect view of a half moon rising high above the Alhambra Palace. Small bridges that arched along the river Rio Darro seemed just as I had remembered them; all still there in the right place. The Alhambra Palace is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. A Grand Palace that was once close to being as close as close can be to the centre of the universe. This was the last bastion of the Moors as their empire receeded all around them. Seeing such a place of genuine beauty is so difficult, almost pointless, in trying to be put into words. Any attempt I could offer to describe this wonderful place would do it a great dishonour, a place like the Alhambra Palace is possibly one of those very, very rare places that needs to be seen in order to be believed. However, Irving Washington offers a wonderful insight into the mysticism and geometric cosmology of the Alhambra Palace in his novel, The Tales of the Alhambra.

At the top of Granada rise up the mountain ranges of the Sierra Nevada. They push hard against each other to sculpt deep valleys that can catch no breath in the baking heat of the Andalucian sun. One of these mountains is called Sacromonte and has been home to generations of gypsies who live in the numerous caves converted into homes. Here palms are read for a few euros, dreams are open to interpretations and flamenco is king. Life is lived by the Gypsy Code and all obey. Inside these caves, walls are cool and are whitewashed much like the outside walls that reflect the glare of the midday sun. Ceilings are low and rooms extend like rabbit warrens. Deep inside the mountain of Sacromonte is the Abadia del Sacromonte - a place of worship deep underground where altars and secret rooms are joined by long, low catacombs.

I am sat on some stone steps in Sacromonte, high in the hills of Granada. I can see the Alhambra Palace in the distance. The vast plains of Andalucia stretch far and wide into the distance beyond. A soft breeze blows moving shadows of leaves that are cast on these hot stones. A bird sings a sleepy song. Behind me rise the giant mountains of the Sierra Nevada. Cypress trees rise and point up to where the air is thin. There is a special sacred energy in Andalucia. If you listen closely you can hear its strong vibration hum. It is almost like hypnosis, calling to you, rendering one still and silent to the point of meditation. This is a source of great creation. From here many things have sprung, and from that blossoming fruit will bear. A motorcycle purrs past the Camino de Sacromonte and speeds off toward the city of Granada. The silence returns and it's time for me to leave. Wide awake at last.