Where was the city I previously posted about? The one with slightly scruffy narrow streets, graffiti daubed half-ruined buildings and gloomy looking cafés frequented by gaunt users and Bob Marley wannabes? Viewed from the bus we caught from la Zubia, the southern suburbs of Granada seemed modern, neat and corporate. After a ten minute ride we were deposited next to a big wall of dark green marble. It turned out to be the side of Granada's conference centre. It sounds much grander in Spanish, 'Palacio de Congresos de Granada', especially if you say it with conviction and the required level of lisping.
It's about 2kms from here to the city's historic centre. The walk takes you down a broad boulevard lined with handsome buildings from the late nineteenth century. The exception to this is the Corte Ingles department store which is unashamedly 1970s and manages to be both grand and bland simultaneously; it's tempting to coin a new architectural term - 'blandeur'.
In fact, Granada beyond the delights of the world heritage sites is quite ordinary, pleasant but unremarkable. Its setting though is extraordinary, a mere 15 miles from the Alhambra to the peaks of the Sierra Nevada. At over 11.000 feet they tower over the city, a wall of glistening snow beneath the deep blue sky. Unforgettable.
We took a short detour towards the cathedral, not to admire the humongous pile itself but to seek out the Mercat Sant Agustín which is situated down a side street just beyond the church.
The market is modern, small by Spanish standards, as much a food hall as a place to buy fresh produce. None of this came as surprise, partly because this is exactly what the Google reviews said, also, as soon as we arrived we realised we had been here previously, but had forgotten.
Increasingly indoor markets are going this way, as much places to come to eat as to buy ingredients. That is preferable to having them close altogether I suppose. Nevertheless, it's difficult to escape the sense that something genuinely communal has been commodified. There is something truly magnificent about the large urban produce markets that you still can find in Valencia, Almeria and Malaga - secular cathedrals dedicated to the patron saint of plentitude. There is one - St. Joseph apparently; but just to assert the essential earthliness of these places maybe we should regard them instead as latter-day temples to Demeter.
Why did we not stop here for lunch? I have no idea. Perhaps it felt too quiet, half past twelve is not really lunchtime in Spain, it is extended elevenses so far as the Hispanic gastronomic clock is concerned. Still, the food places were open, though semi-deserted, so we should have opted for a very meaty late breakfast straightaway.
Instead we headed to Plaza Santa Ana. It's a beautiful old square overlooked by the Alhambra. We have a rule of thumb about finding a good place for lunch - avoid big squares and tourist hot spots. Instead find somewhere full of locals down a side street.
This ploy has never failed us, and didn't today when we chose to ignore it. It was a very mediocre lunch we had in Café Lisboa situated in the corner of the square.
The place was full tourists heading for the Alhambra's afternoon shift mixed with escapees from the morning one. "This is a very disappointing Spanish omlette," I advised Gill darkly. Apparently her eggs Benedict were not too bad.
The Alhambra is the most visited monument in Spain. The Moorish palace complex and the fortress and gardens next to it are World Heritage sites The the old Arabic quarter of Albayzín on the hill opposite is similarly bestowed with global significance.
Plaza Santa Ana occupies the valley between the two. Mass tourism = second rate food, can you think of an exception to that rule? Ridiculous gift shops also go with the territory.
The lower levels of Albayzín are full of them, packed with merchandise of a vaguely oriental provenance. It's an odd mixture on offer: Indian throws, geometrically patterned ceramics, hookah related paraphernalia, light cotton full-length wafty skirts and hareen pants that claim to be hand-crafted in Nepal, chunky ethnic style thick woollen jackets that might be Mongolian inspired but probably mass produced in Bangladesh.
It's a questionable cultural mélange, mixing Arabic, Indian and Asian influences, the only common denominator is a pervasive 'ethnic' aesthetic, slightly alternative; a latter-day hippydom that in terms of style leans towards the grungy dog-on-a-string rather than the mustachieod hipster.
One aspect of it remains utterly beyond comprehension, what is going on with the brightly coloured boomerangs? It's not a one off. We've come across them in crustie-crafty shops across Iberia, most memorably, one cold, windswept autumn day in Vila Nova de Milfontes, a remote spot on Portugal's Alentejo coast. We'd pedalled into town in search of milk. The only shop that was open was a wellness orientated craft shop full of Buddha figurines and scented candles...and garish boomerangs. The world is a deeply mysterious place, but not in a Buddhist sense.
The streets of Albayzín immediately behind Plaza Santa Ana are as ghastly a tourist hotspot as you'll come across. A hundred metres up the hill is the complete opposite.
The tangle of whitewashed alleys and small courtyards, each with a fountain, is a well preserved neighbourhood dating back a thousand years to Granada's heyday as one the great Arabic cities of Al Andalus. Each time we have wandered about here it has been almost deserted, a tranquil escape from the crowed streets below.
From the ninth to the fourteenth centuries these noble Islamic cities were the most civilised in Europe, seats of learning where Muslim, Christian and Jewish communities lived together peacefully.
This is has been our third visit to Granada, each one left a different impression. Maybe that is a sign that the place has real vibrancy, it is multi-layered, contradictory even. It is not without its challenges, not all of them social The weather has been beautiful, but the windless conditions created a thick layer of pollution that hung over the entire conurbation. I suppose the ring of hills and mountains that surround the city make it particularly prone to smog.
Above all, the Granada is a place that poses questions, for all its World Heritage monuments it is a modern city looking to the future. Its heritage is one of a cultured city of courtyards and gardens, perhaps that can inspire us to re-dream our cities as 'viridian islands'. For all the technical challenges posed by the British government's announcement today that after 2035 only new electric cars will be on sale, we should hale that as a move in the right direction.
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