When we finished our tour of the Alhambra in the early afternoon of November 9, we were given the choice of going back to the hotel or seeing a little of the rest of the city of Granada via a guided walk through the downtown area. The long trek on foot through the Alhambra had worn Sandie out and and she chose to return to the hotel. I was almost dead tired myself, but nevertheless I opted to go on and I’m glad I did. Granada is a beautiful city and full of history. It would be worth a visit even if the Alhambra had been razed to the ground. Yet for all its historic significance, Granada is surprisingly petite, with a population of only a quarter of a million, about half the size of my home town of Long Beach, California. That, in combination with the higher population density that is typical of European cities, makes it possible to see many attractions in a brief walking tour.
We began our walk in the downtown area, on the Carrera de la Virgen, a wide boulevard divided by a shady, tree-lined pedestrian median and lined with stately apartments and upscale businesses such as El Corté Ingles department store. We paused along the way to view the Basilica de las Angustias, a Baroque church which was begun in 1617 on the site of an old hermitage to provide a home for an image of the Virgin of Sorrows, donated by Queen Isabella the Catholic, which now graces the altarpiece of the church. The Virgin of Sorrows is considered the patron saint of Granada, as was officially recognized by Pope Leo XIII in 1887.
Before long we reached the end of the Carrera de la Virgen at the Plaza Bibataubín, where we encountered a fountain and a palace. The name is a corruption of “Bab al-Tawwabin,” Arabic for “Bricklayers’ Gate,” denoting that in Nasrid times it was the location of one of the city’s main gates, in a district inhabited by the stonemasons who built the gate. That was in the 12th century, in pre-Nasrid times, when the Almohads still ruled the area. The Nasrids reinforced the gate, but after the conquest of 1492 the Catholic monarchs decided to build a castle on the site to enhance the defenses of the city. In the 18th century the castle became an obstacle to the city’s growth, and it was converted to a barracks, a transformation which involved demolishing the existing edifice and rebuilding it with a facade made of premium-quality Sierra Elvira stone and featuring helical columns with a twisting spiral structure like a corkscrew. These are known as Solomonic columns because they were thought to have originated in the original Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem (the one which was destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BCE, and no remains of which have ever been found, so that nobody knows what it really looked like, or even if it really existed). These columns had originally been carved for the Church of the Sagrario (which we saw later) but had been rejected by its architect, so they were installed at the barracks instead. The building continued to serve that purpose until 1933, when it was given over to the Provincial Council of Granada. This led to a series of further remodelings and modifications, culminating in 2009 when the Provincial Council turned the edifice over to the Consejo Consultivo de Andalucía (Advisory Council of Andalusia), for which it now serves as headquarters.
Next to the Palacio de Bibataubín on the north is another square, Plaza del Campillo, a pleasant locale with a newsstand, several enticing restaurants, and an attractive fountain. I was especially taken with a circular brick planter surrounding a huge, venerable old tree; the planter also served as a bench for passers-by to sit and rest their weary feet, and perhaps to contemplate dining at the nearby Restaurante Chikito.
I must admit that I am hopelessly confused as to how we proceeded next. We ended up at the Ayuntamiento de Granada, which is the City Hall, in the Plaza del Carmen, but exactly how we got there I have no idea. My photos of the places we encountered aren’t very helpful since they don’t seem to comport with any logical route we could have taken. But it doesn’t really matter; the streets were well-kept and worth seeing in themselves.
The Ayuntamiento de Granada proved to be one of the most strikingly attractive town halls I saw in Spain, or anywhere else. It was originally built between 1572 and 1627 as a convent for nuns of the Discalced Carmelite order, and consisted of two enclosures: an old convent and a new convent, with a church attached to the latter . In the 19th century, the Spanish government conducted what it called a desamortización – confiscation – of ecclesiastical properties with the object of obtaining funds to pay off state debt and promote economic growth. In the aftermath of the expropriation, in 1858 the old convent and the church were demolished, and the Ayuntamiento offices were moved from their previous location to the undemolished new convent. The Casa Consistorial de Granada, as the building is formally known, is a two-story neoclassical structure with a high arched doorway and a balcony above it on the second floor. It has a beautiful patio, which however I have only seen in photos on the web, since we didn’t enter the building. The most striking feature of the Casa Consistorial, as far as I could see at the time, was the statue atop the building, which depicts a naked man on horseback; the man carries a golden globe, while the horse has two feet planted on identical globes. I have not been able to find out whom or what this sculpture is supposed to represent, but it is an impressive piece of work.
No less remarkable was our next stop, the Corral del Carbón. This is a survival of pre-Christian conquest Granada – in fact it is said to be the only structure of its kind surviving from the Nasrid period in the Iberian peninsula. It was built probably in the early 14th century as a caravanserai, a commercial and trading center serving as a warehouse for grain and as an inn and storage facility for traveling merchants. This type of establishment is known as a funduq in al-Andalus (Muslim Spain) and Morocco, and as an alhóndiga in Spanish. Its Arabic name was al-Funduq al-Jadida. After the 1492 conquest it was sold to private owners, who used it first as a theater, then converted it into an apartment building and also used the courtyard as an area for weighing and storing coal – hence the current name, which means “Courtyard of Coal.” By the twentieth century it had become quite dilapidated, but in 1928 the curator of the Alhambra, Leopoldo Torres Balbás, arranged to have the government purchase it with the proceeds of ticket sales from the Alhambra (which evidently was a major tourist attraction even then). The 36 tenant families still living in the building were ruthlessly evicted. Subsequently it underwent several restorations, the last one in 2006, and today it houses offices of the International Festival of Music and Dance of Granada and the Orchestra of the City of Granada.
The most striking feature of the Corral is its monumental entrance façade, which has its roots in Sassanian Persian architecture but also displays typically Moorish and Nasrid characteristics such as double-arched windows, panels of decorative plaster with elaborate patterns and Kufic inscriptions, and muqarnas sculpting in the archway. The interior is more spartan. The central courtyard is surrounded on all sides by a three-story gallery, with the bottom floor containing storage facilities and the upper two serving as living quarters. In the center of the courtyard is a large stone basin with two water inlets, one on each side, which must have been used to water the camels in Nasrid times. (Actually I doubt whether camels were used in Spain, even by the Moors, but it would have served horses and donkeys equally well.) Around the sides of the courtyard are planted vines which rise majestically up to the third floor – I think they must be a type of wisteria, but they were not blooming in November.
The Corral del Carbón is not far from the Granada Cathedral, and that is where we headed next. The Cathedral is part of a complex of ecclesiastical buildings which includes the Iglesia Parroquial del Sagrario, the Capilla Real de Granada and others. Formally known as Santa Iglesia Catedral Metropolitana de la Encarnación de Granada, it is the seat of the Archbishop of Granada. It was built on the site of what had been the city’s main mosque before the Reconquest. Construction began in 1518 and continued for 181 years. It was initially planned as a Gothic cathedral, but the second architect, Diego de Siloé, who replaced Enrique Egas in 1529, switched to a design reflecting the influence of the Italian Renaissance, which dominated thereafter, although Baroque elements were also added in the final years of construction. Siloé combined a Renaissance dome with a Gothic floor plan, but he also gave the cathedral five naves instead of the usual three, and he installed a circular capilla mayor (principal chapel) in place of the customary semicircular apse. Another architect, Alonso Cano, was responsible for completing the façade in its final form, an imposing tripartite triumphal arch, and that represented the Baroque influence.
The Royal Chapel of Granada (Capilla Real de Granada), on the south side of the cathedral, is actually older than the cathedral itself. It was built between 1505 and 1517 as the burial place of the Catholic monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella. The chief architect was Enrique Egas, who designed it in a style known as Isabelline Gothic or Castilian late Gothic, a sort of transitional style between traditional Castilian Gothic and early Renaissance architecture, incorporating Flemish, Mudejar (Moorish) and Italian influences.
Also on the south side of the cathedral is another church, the Iglesia Parroquial del Sagrario or Parish Church of the Tabernacle. This was built much later than the cathedral, between 1705 and 1759, on the site of the mosque prayer hall, with a Greek cross floor plan. We did not see the interior, but it has what is said to be a “sensational” baptismal font and is filled with notable 15th and 16th-century works of art.
I also enjoyed snooping around in the area immediately surrounding the cathedral, where there were a number of interesting sights and shops. Right in front of the cathedral there is a square called Plaza de las Pasiegas; on its western edge is a series of shops – a cutlery store called Cuchillería Ruiz – El llavín de oro (“Golden Key”), a spice shop, and a café.
There was another spice shop on a side street not far away from the cathedral, and it was a matter of some interest to me that both of them were guarded by knights posted just outside the door – actually empty suits of armor, but formidable-looking nonetheless. It’s kind of understandable, because in early modern Europe spices were very valuable, and the quest to obtain them was what prompted the voyages of Spanish and Portuguese explorers to discover the New World and carve out empires in Asia. But it was a bit startling to see this historical moment reflected in a present-day context.
Hotels, rental apartments and airbnbs are plentiful in the cathedral neighborhood, and with good reason. The Plaza de las Pasiegas, and the major street that leads to it, is the venue of a number of processions during Holy Week, which lasts from Palm Sunday to Easter Monday. These are staged by the hermandades (religious brotherhoods) of Granada, and feature elaborate floats bearing tableaux depicting religious scenes and figures, as well as marching figures called “nazarenos”, people dressed up in white suits with pointed hoods looking alarmingly like Ku Klux Klan members. Although the nazareno garments did in fact serve as the inspiration for the KKK uniforms, the nazarenos themselves are not seeking to frighten or persecute anyone but rather to express penitence and ask for forgiveness of sins. Their processions are carried out throughout the city, but some of the most spectacular originate or terminate at the cathedral. Many outsiders come to Granada for Holy Week from all over the world as well as Spain.
Just off the northwest corner of the Cathedral is a square called the Plaza Romanilla, where I encountered the most appealing sculpture I saw in all of Granada. This was the Monumento al Aguador, Monument to the Water-Carrier, a recent work from 1999 by the sculptor Aurelio Teno. The profession of water-carrier was an essential occupation in Granada (as elsewhere) down to the twentieth century. Aguadors were itinerant figures who roamed the city, offering water to passers-by as well as houses who had no water – which would have been almost all of them in pre-modern times. (People would have been able to fetch water from fountains distributed in places around the city, but these were relatively few and far between.) All of the water for the city came from the rivers Darro and Genil, or from springs near the riverbanks. The aguadors fetched the water from these sources under the supervision of an official called muhtasib (in Arabic) or almotacén (in Spanish), who was charged with overseeing all the activities of the aguadors, including ensuring that they took the water from locations in the river which were not muddy, dirty or polluted – for all the garbage and industrial waste from the city was dumped in the rivers in those days. The aguadors typically transported the water in demijohns — large earthenware jars which they hauled on the backs of donkeys. The sculpture in the Plaza Romanilla depicts the aguador as a ragged, tired, almost emaciated figure holding a water glass, shambling alongside his heavily laden donkey, who appears surprisingly perky considering the weight he has to carry. I found this a very touching and thought-provoking portrayal. It drove home to me something that people tend to be unaware in these days of running water and flush toilets: how precarious access to water was in days of yore. Water was precious, and for those beneath the top layers of society it was very scarce. How would you wash cook your food, bathe yourself and your children, wash your clothes, and clean your house, all with the pitifully small amount of water obtained from the aguador? I find it difficult to imagine. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about washing your car. Anyway, I was very gratified to find that at last someone had created a monument to the poor and downtrodden members of society, and not just kings, emperors, nobles and churchmen like the notorious Cardinal-Archbishop Cisneros.
After exploring the cathedral area, we headed southeast and soon found ourselves on the Reyes Católicos, the grand east-west boulevard that runs through the heart of Granada. There, at the intersection with the Gran Vía de Colon, we emerged onto the Plaza Isabel la Católica. This is obviously the most appropriate place for a monument which depicts Queen Isabella holding an audience with Christopher Columbus – Colon being the Spanish form of his last name. The monument was built for the 400th anniversary of Columbus’ discovery of the Americas in 1892. It was originally intended to be a triumphal arch, but funds for such a grandiose project could not be raised, so the city settled for a high stone pedestal with Queen Isabella seated on her throne on top, and Columbus kneeling on steps in front of her. The pedestal is inscribed with the names of major dignitaries, including King Ferdinand of Aragon and various nobles.
I don’t remember what route we took from the Plaza Isabel la Católica to our next stop, the Plaza de San Gregorio. We were heading in the general direction of the Mirador de San Nicolas, and by this time I was so tired that I remember very little, and would remember even less if I didn’t have the pictures I took along the way to remind me. I think we came by the Calle Calderería Nueva, since that picturesque street with its many colorful shops shows up in one of my photos. In any case, we somehow arrived at the Iglesia de San Gregorio Bético, Church of Saint Gregory the Blessed, which gives the square its name. The church began its existence as a small hermitage, founded by the Catholic Monarchs after the conquest of Granada in 1492 in honor of two Christian monks who tried to preach their faith at the mosque of Granada in 1397, and for their pains were tied to the tails of horses and dragged through the streets of the city to a dungeon, located where the present church now stands, for execution.
In the 16th century the hermitage was expanded into a church, with an adjoining convent. After the desamortización (confiscation of church properties) in 1835-1837, it was used variously as a wine and coal warehouse, a dance hall and a brothel. But in 1887 the secularization was reversed, with the congregation of nuns of Sancti Spiritus taking over management of the church. It was burned down in 1936, during the Civil War, but later rebuilt, and is currently occupied by an order of cloistered nuns known as the Poor Clares.
Architecturally, the church is distinguished by its Ionic style façade, done in Sierra Elvira marble, and by the location of its main tower at the back of the building, an unusual position in Granada. The interior is a mixture of Renaissance and Baroque styles. It has only one nave, which is divided in two halves, the back for ordinary worshipers and the front one, which includes the main chapel, for the nuns. It also boasts some celebrated frescoes in the presbytery and the dome.
The square to which the church gives its name was also quite pleasant, with beautiful stone mosaic pavement and upscale houses all round. Here as elsewhere in Granada some of the walls were adorned with graffiti, but these were not nearly as prolific or as obtrusive as in another city of my acquaintance, founded in 1781 as El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula.
From the Plaza de San Gregorio I continued on to the Mirador de San Nicolas. The guided walking tour may have ended by then, but all I can remember now is that I was very tired and nobody was with me when I reached the Mirador. Fortunately I wasn’t too tired to take pictures along the way. The quiet streets of the Albaicín quarter were quite charming, lined with elegant houses and walled gardens, the only caveat being that they were so narrow that any car being driven in my vicinity was a mortal threat.
Somehow I made it to the Mirador de San Nicolas and was rewarded by stunning views of the Alhambra in the last light of day. After a few moments’ rest I was able to attach my 70-200mm telephoto zoom lens to my Canon EOS-6D DSLR and to shoot a panoply of pictures of that amazing fortress. I don’t remember how I made it back to the hotel from there, but having done so, I was able to recuperate for a few hours before we were whisked off to our after-dark adventure, which will be the subject of my next post.
