erudite parrots that can quote poetry

As we waited for the train at the Estacion de Granada, I felt sad to be leaving Andalusia and Granada.  Of all the places we had stayed in Spain, it was Granada which captured my heart. But what grabbed me about it?

I didn't expect to like it. [but please note that "If I am not with the one I love, I love the one I'm with!"] One of my travel guide books had warned, “You will fall in love with Granada but you won't know why.” I certainly get that!

We went to Granada primarily to see the Alhambra, intending to stay five nights; five nights stretched to eleven in a quiet, spacious apartment at the rear of a cool central courtyard, so typical of the houses here. When you look from the Alhambra over Granada, you have a bird's eye view of the courtyards, which are not apparent from the street. Ours had a water trough, a couple of potted trees and pillars which looked like remnants from Roman ruins.

From our base in Granada, we took day trips to the Sierra Nevada, the Alpujarras and the Costa Tropical. I dipped my toes in the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean while Dave slept on a lounge under a sunshade. We walked the paths between the white villages of the Alpujarras, with the terraced hillsides and fantastic irrigation systems introduced by the Moors. We met a young Australian girl on the bus who had been WWOOFING [Willing Workers On Organic Farms] on an olive farm there with 600 year old olive trees which bore luscious fruit. Granada is in a mountainous area which includes cultivated green valleys, ski slopes and beaches of the  Mediterranean coast, all within easy reach by public bus.

The Alhambra, the “Red One” in Arabic,with it's ruddy walls, sits on the summit at the centre of Granada and is its historical, architectural and tourist centre. Now restored to its former glory, it is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Washington Irving  was an American writer and traveller who stayed for three months in the Alhambra in the early 1800s, when it had been abandoned by the Spanish monarchs and was in a state of decay. Irving's words are so enchanting that they are used in the audio-guide for the Alhambra.
His descriptions of life in Granada in the early 1800s, his love for the people and his retelling of the myths and legends that surround the Alhambra, enriched my experience of contemporary Granada.
So many of his observations are relevant today. The agent for our apartment, Zorahayda, shared the same name as one of the three beautiful daughters of a Moorish king, who were locked in the Tower of 'Las Infantas' at the Alhambra, when they reached marriageable age. I was taken with one of the tales, a love story, where one of the characters was 'an erudite parrot that quotes poetry'. But as Irving said, ''the aroma of the poetry...is lost in translation".

Irving describes the poetic propensities of the people of Granada, who commonly composed couplets at the drop of a hat, and had a talent for singing and improvising.I noticed this many times, including some older men returning on the bus from a hiking expedition, singing along with Spanish pop songs, in full voice.

Although the Alhambra, with its gardens, pools and vistas, is beautiful, Granada is not a place I would describe as pretty, pristine or picturesque. But if you walk the back-streets, go to a gypsy Zambra show in a cave, find the hidden cafes and tapas bars, use public transport, shop with the locals, you will see that Granada “contains multitudes" as Walt Whitman would say. There is an edge to it which can be a bit frightening to two Adelaideans of a certain age, but it is certainly alive.

Like the scruffy moggies of the Alhambra which sleep in the shadows, prowl the walls, ignore the swallows eternally circling the spaces above, mew for food, or lie on their backs in the sun, licking their tummies, Granada is a motley place with an amazing mix of people amicably rubbing shoulders.

Redolent with history, it is a young person's city. The streets are filled with gorgeous girls in short shorts, young black eyed men with guitars strung over their shoulders, short elderly Senors and Senoras, supported by walking sticks, sharing the pavement with hippies with dreadlocks. Here you still find gypsies dancing the Zambra in their caves, world renowned luthiers in the tiny workshops of Cuesta Gomerez,named after a Moorish family famous for stories and song, almost unchanged Arabic and Jewish quarters, young English hairdressers, Irish waiters, patient Asians in corner stores which stay open while the rest of Granada closes for siesta. Renaissance buildings side by side with the most graffiti I have ever seen. Political slogans on the walls of convents, rotund nuns in cake shops, tourists crowding the outdoor tables in the Plaza Nueva or the Arabian baths, the airy lightness of the palace, the Gothic grey solidity of the cathedral, Spanish drivers winding down their windows and yelling at each other until one or the other backs off in streets too narrow for two vehicles, or sometimes passing within centimetres of each other.

We saw an old woman put food out on one of the old stone bridges over the River Darro. Many cats with coats of different colours emerged from the woods below the Alhambra and leapt onto the stone wall, while above I am sure I heard an erudite parrot.

I had enjoyed the passion of Madrid, the exotic orientalism of Cordoba, the 'duende', the flamenco spirit of Sevilla, the romance and rural ambience of Ronda. But I loved the people and the poetry of Granada.

"How often does a casual word from a poet confer immortality!" Washington Irving's words invoke the luxurious lifestyles of the sultans of the Alhambra with their ravishing harems, their music, poetry, harmonious architecture, and Islamic faith.