From Moorish mystery to Catholic bombast, Granada has an exotic charm worth an extended stay

There's much more to Granada than the Alhambra.

It's not something I was convinced of when I discovered we couldn't get tickets to the main attraction. I'd booked us for three nights. Would there be enough to keep us busy without the hilltop palaces? Had I made a mistake? No. It's a city of various pleasures that deserves time to explore.

First, appreciate the magic of the physical setting. You're 738 metres above sea level ... almost 300 metres higher than Annecy, France, the mountain town I know best ... with the old city tucked into the sides of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Snow-covered peaks tower overhead, often still white even when it's high summer in the valley below. While the sprawling, post-Napoleonic new town is mostly flat, older bits are a warren of steep lanes, most-often cobbled with fist-sized river-polished stones in fanciful black and white designs. Come with good walking shoes and be ready to climb.

There's enough architectural variety and quaint scenes to keep a lover of the picturesque wandering happily for days. The medieval splendour of the Alhambra dominates many views; the hill facing it is dotted with small parks that seem contrived just to give you a chance to sit and glory in the architectural wonder across the way. That hill is the Albaicin, the old Arab neighbourhood that formed the town beyond the Alhambra in its glory days. It still retains a whitewashed ancient feel; more Sidi Bou Said than other Spanish towns I've visited. And yet, descend to the bit where the Albaicin meets the Darro River and you'll find a cluster of Renaissance palaces that would make you swear you're in Florence. Main boulevards in the newer town are closer to Madrid or Barcelona, while the cathedral is an architectural mishmash unlike anything I've ever seen.

The cathedral's stop-start construction over multiple centuries created an awkward hotch-potch that doesn't gel and is completely at odds with the buildings around it, but it's a cheerful mess. Down on the valley floor you'll find the 21st century in gleaming glass and stone, surrounded by sprawling car parks, in what they claim is Europe's biggest shopping mall. A university district sprawls to the north, while marvellously grand houses climb the Alhambra's southern flanks. Monasteries, nunneries and churches dot the place with a profusion that rivals Rome. One wonders if, once they kicked the Moors out, they were all protesting a bit too much...

The Moors are back in a big way, of course, now that the legacy of their glory days here has become the focal point of the city's tourism. Start by exploring the Albaicin to drink in that heritage. Some of it isn't particularly authentic: a fairly-new Moroccan community is supplying restaurants, hookah bars and shops that have little to do with the Nasrid's Granada. But they do give the whole place a charming, souk-like atmosphere, there's some fun shopping on offer and landlords deserve credit for kitting out their modern buildings in Mudejar style.

I started early one morning and avoided the winding commercial streets for a direct, steep route up Palacio Dar-al-Horra. Follow the little alley that leads off the Placeta to find it, rather than the tourist maps that imply it's in the convent next door. This is the pocket-sized palace of the mother of the last Nasrid king of Granada; from the tower room at its top she could look across the Albaicin to see her son's spread on the next hill. The architectural decoration is similar to the Nasrid palaces, but it's little known and if you wait for the occasional bus tour to clear out you can have it almost to yourself. The empty rooms host rotating exhibitions; at the moment they're full of tools and instruments exploring the scientific talents of the Moors. This was one of my favourite places in Granada.
the Albaicin's hill via lots of stairs. I ended up in a residential section with hardly a car or person in view, just lots of cascading bougainvillea and remarkable vistas below. On a return visit I'd consider looking for a hotel in the charming district around the Placeta de San Miguel Bajo. (We stayed in a practical but unremarkable Ibis on the outskirts.) I got there hunting for the woefully signposted

A bargain-priced entry ticket (less than €6) gets you into several other Moorish monuments across the Albaicin, most notably the Banuelo. You'll probably have to wait a bit to get into this one, as it's in the more touristy part of the Albaicin along the river Darro. But it's worth the wait, and the staff limits entry numbers so that once you're inside it's not too crowded. This is the best-preserved of what were once 21 different neighbourhood bathing complexes with hot, tepid and cold rooms, plus ante-rooms for relaxation and business. The layout is preserved today because it had been turned into a house. Now the modern layers are stripped away so you can see the elegant procession of rooms through Arabic arches. Brick vaults are pierced with hexagons and stars, allowing sunlight to dapple the space below. Even without its water and glazed tiles, it's a magnificent space.

At this point you're close to the Plaza Nueva, sightseeing Ground Zero as it sits between the Albaicin, the Alhambra and the Cathedral district. Time to consider some shopping: something I didn't do enough of in this city. Tourist shops are jammed with Arab-inspired slippers, mouse pads, fridge magnets, pashminas, etc. ... probably mostly made in China but even in the tacky shops there's some pretty stuff. Happily, there's plenty of real craftsmanship along with the mass-produced stuff and for every five tourist shops you'll find something that has a more artisan feel to it. Leather goods, jewellery and ceramics are all worth checking out. The main streets of the Albaicin, the road that runs along the valley of the Darro and the 19th century imagining of a medieval Arab souk near the cathedral are all good for browsing. Granada is particularly known for a distinctive style of inlaid-wooden box. You'll see them everywhere, but the best and most authentic range we saw was in a dedicated shop directly across the street from the Casa del Arte Flamenco on the Cuesta de Gomerez.

Speaking of flamenco, Granada is mad for it. Legend says the art form arose in the 16th century when jews and Moorish "conversos", not yet kicked out of the country but relegated to second-class citizenship, worked out their frustrations with heart-rending music and angry dancing. (Explaining why flamenco tunes often echo the pathos of Eastern-European jewish music, or the wails of Arab women at funerals.) The traditional district for Granada's flamenco is Sacromonte, once an under-class ghetto outside the city walls. It now hosts an array of flamenco venues, many in caves, where tourist buses disgorge large groups for the nightly show and dinner. Local aficionados are dismissive of most of them as being neither serious about dancing or food. Instead, they directed us to the Casa del Arte Flamenco. This small (only about 50 seats) venue stages a concentrated, one-hour experience with a rotating line-up of performers who are all well-known on the flamenco scene. Our show included a guitarist, singer, male and female dancers, each given the solo spotlight in addition to performing as a group.

This was unlike any flamenco I'd seen, either live or on television. The passion was raw and visceral. The intimacy of the venue meant we could see every drop of sweat and feel the shudder of the floor under the dancers' pounding heels. The speed and power of movement was jaw-dropping (and that included the flying fingers of the guitarist). An hour was perfect; any more would have been emotionally draining. And the beauty of this venue is that you spill out into a district full of restaurants in time for dinner.

The last must-see on even a short trip to Granada is the burial chapel of the Catholic Monarchs. Had the entire cathedral been constructed in this lace-like, triumphant gothic, it would have been a masterpiece. Instead, it's as if all the beauty has been concentrated in this small appendage. The focal point is the tombs themselves: full-size marble effigies of Ferdinand and Isabella, their daughter Juana and her husband Philip, lying on marble biers encrusted with carved figures, foliage and architectural elements. In a poignant contrast, you can descend and peer into the crypt where they actually lie in stark,  unembellished lead coffins. The main altarpiece which their effigies face is
considered one of the biggest and most lavish in Spain, a towering concoction of carved saints and angels who are painted and gilded to a life-like sheen as they go through their stories as if acting in a three-dimensional cartoon strip.

Several side chapels have altars and other works of art almost as intriguing. The most significant masterpieces, however, are probably in the arched room beyond the tombs, now used as a museum. Queen Isabella had a penchant for Flemish Renaissance art, and her collection on display here is better than most of the world's great museums: Roger Van Der Weyden, the Master of the Legend of St. Catherine, Dieric Bouts, Hans Memling. Seeing these paintings alone would be worth the admission price.

I worried that three nights in Granada would be too much. I thought I would like Cordoba better. I was wrong on both counts. We easily could have used another day. My only complaint? It's a city so swamped with tourists it can be hard to find a local experience. We beat that challenge by investing in a top-quality food and history tour led by a local. For that story, see my next entry.