Belenes

Last days can often be difficult on holiday, not least this one with a flight booked to depart at 10 pm. I took breakfast in the hotel for a change, packed and left my luggage at the hotel and set off for another stroll around this city I have come to like. There are some fine buildings, I love the chairs randomly glued to the pavements so you can take a break whenever you feel the need. There are some excellent examples of turn of the century (19-20) archictecture dotted around the streets.

My route takes me past the book cabins I’d seen before and this time they were open. Paperbacks ranged from 5 to 12 euros with some deals three for 12 euros. There were a few English and German titles among them as well and all the kiosks seemed to be doing steady business. Good to see lots of children’s books, history and philosophy as well as fiction from popular Spanish authors like Perez-Reverte, Carlos Zafron. Javier Marias and Almudena Grandes and of course translations of John Grisham and Dan Brown. I didn’t see any Harry Potter.

Also attracting a lot of attention was the four sided display of belenes in front of the Town Hall with scenes of the birth, shepherds and three kings – Los Reyes – who are of course all-important in Spain with the 6th January almost bigger than Christmas.

Down by the marina a lone saxophonist busker was trying hard but basically was practising his scales in public with scores on a phone attached to his alto.

Wandering back up through the avenues what should I come across but another museum, The Palacio Principal, with displays of – you guessed it- belenes but also an exhibition by Francisco Rubio which involved an interesting mix of abstract and figurative work, sometimes in combination.

I’m not fan of photographing meals but my lamb cutlets for my last lunch were worthy and very tasty as well – but no hot padron peppers! Then back to the hotel to collect cases and the C6 bus to the airport. It’s every 15 minutes and whisks us via the train station and then through the newish suburbs, past a huge desalination plant and along the beach at Playa de Agua Amarga before turning west to the airport.

In the hotel there was an exhortation to be very sparing of water – keep your towels, take shorter showers as there has always been an acute shortage of water in the area. One woman I was chatting to before the music the other evening told me that 80% of Alicante’s drinking water – I had declined any alongside my meal – comes from desalination and that she had frequently in her childhood faced water being turned off in her home. I tried to joke that Christmas Day had changed all that but am not quite sure it worked.

I had equivocated for quite a while about whether to make this trip – can I bear the inevitable airport hustle, am I too old to be doing this stuff, can I better last year’s wonderful week in Madrid and Granada? I am so glad I did. I’ve explored a new city, found new artworks, architecture and archaeology. I’ve been to classical and jazzy gigs and had great food. Apart from the soggy Christmas Day the sun has shone and temperatures have been around 17-18 degrees Celsius in the day. People have been friendly and I’ve actually managed a few conversations. I have one regret. I’ve ogled other people’s arroces – you mustn’t call them paella here. These rice dishes come with seafood, meat and vegetable versions and are very similar to the Valencian staple with crusty base and pan-cooked rice and accompaniments. Problem? They are always for a minimum of two people. So I’ll just have to find someone to come back with me.

Sunday morning is spent packing, leaving cases in the hotel lock up and going in quest of breakfast. Options were very limited as it is Sunday when places open very late. I do succeed in finding a hotel bar open to the public and then go to remedy the third museum visit I lost when the Darro called.

On the way I spot my first Irish pub in Granada – there may be others – but I thought this made a change from Murphy’s and O’Neill‘s. It wasn’t yet open so I can’t vouch for the quality of the Guinness.

I’m glad I made it to the Museo Casa de Los Tiros ( tiros = muskets apparently among the stones at the top of the building. Entry is free but photos and selfie-sticks are prohibited, but I dodged the guards a bit as it was interesting. There was a special exhibition of figures and landscapes for belens and some unusual ones – a belen in a barrel, another in the shape of a pomegranate. Some were on loan from the International Museum of Belen Arts – who knew! I found it.

The upper floors were devoted to material about the city – important figures – Ganivet was there of course, room layouts from various periods when the building was the arts hub of Granada, posters from events, newspaper cuttings, photographs, including de Falla and Lorca. There was a wonderfully ornate set of toasting forks and a great quilt. It was well worth the wait.

The main hall with wall painting remnants

Not far from here was something that had escaped my plans for visits – the Cuarto Real de San Domingo. It’s free on Sundays so why not? A pleasant enough garden leads to a modern construction covering the remains of an Arab palace built before the Alhambra in the 13th century. Excavated floor layouts can be seen through a glass platform (slightly unnerving), with tiles, mosaics and walls indicating the palace arrangements. When the Dominicans took it over they demolished most of it but kept the qubba which has the fabulous decoration styles that were later repeated in its more famous companion up the hill. The space also has occasional exhibitions although not today. I’m glad I found it at the next-to-last minute.

Interesting things I found while wandering about were cooking oil recycling on the street along side a receptacle for used batteries too and I was lucky enough to be greeted by a peal of bells from one of the many fine churches. Then it seemed time to head back for a farewell beer in the Futbol Café. Today’s tapa was a small dish of seafood paella.

The bus stop I’d been using several timesd this week was called Fuente de Las Batallas but I’d never seen the fountain working until today. A fitting farewell as I board the number 4 to the train station.

They advise you on the train ticket that doors close two minutes before departure but don’t warn you that after a baggage check and wand screening, you then stand in a queue for half an hour before they let you on board. I’m glad left plenty of time to get to the station. It felt pretty chaotic, but the train left only seven minutes late so I suppose they know what they are doing.

The multi-stranded queue snaking towards the train

I happened to be in the Cafeteria having the snack I thought I’dhave time to get at the station in Granada when we passed somewhere we had once visited because of the name – Castillo del Almodovar del Rio. I don’t think he ever set a film there, but it’s wacky enough.

The train made it to Madrid on time and via a labyrinthine series of escalators and travellators, I emerged into the chilly air of Madrid Atocha. I’d booked another hotel quite close and was there in 10 minutes walk, after admiring the lights around the Atocha fountain, making real trees into giant snowflakes.

It was a small room in a functional hotel but good for the one night. It was also in touching distance of a couple of restaurants where I had a beer in the courtyard and then decided to stay and eat if they had a table inside. They did and I was informed that they had a fine piece of hake – as far from the sea as you can get and I eat fish! However it is pretty much obligatory to eat merluza when in Spain. Buen provecho!

Tag: Belenes

Last day in Alicante

Farewell Granada