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After not the best night’s sleep – bed was comfortable but travel nerves affected it I guess, I check out and walk down the street to find myself on the Paseo del Prado right opposite the Botanic Garden. We must have been in Madrid during one of the lean spells for Dee’s freelance work as she had started taking a course at the RHS with a view to becoming a garden designer. So we spent many happy hours in the Botanic Garden taking photos of specimens and trying to translate the signboards. It all came back as I walked by – no time to explore today though I have a bus to catch.

I’m soon at Atocha Station where I notice the wonderful ironwork on top of the old building. And here from a home archive is what you used to walk through to catch a train. The modern station is huge and, at first encounter, thoroughly confusing but at least this morning the bus stop for the airport was outside.

The bus left promptly and sped through parts of Madrid I knew from previous visits and then out onto the motorway to Barajas. Security is not too bad and I’ve learned the Spanish for my hip “cadera metalica” which gets me through. I’m here the requisite two hours before departure so set off in search of breakfast. My coffee fix sated, I joined the queue to check in only to realise that I wouldn’t last the three quarters of an hour before take off without a loo. The nearest one was “Closed for cleaning” and we were directed further even away from my gate to find the Caballeros there closed for the same reason so I got an inkling of the normal female lot – queuing to get into the only available Family and baby change loo. At least by the time I got back there were only a few people left at the gate so I was soon on board. The flight took off exactly as scheduled at 12:30 Madrid time and is making good progress as I write. We actually arrive 20 minutes early and the sun was still shining! I was able to catch the 14:30 Stansted Express. Sadly it doesn’t go to Liverpool Street during the New Year weekend so it’s a double tube from Tottenham Hale and the train home from London Bridge. Further sympathy with wheelchair users and other less able people to hear just a few announcements of “This station has step free access”. With a wheelie case and a rucksack I need step free access!

So my journey ended where it started at Lee Station and I was pleased to see that the 273 bus would only make me wait for 7 minutes so I didn’t have to lug my baggage back up Woodyates Road. I discovered from previous photos that we were in Granada in 1998 and in the Atocha Station and Botanic Gardens in Madrid in 2005. Lots of good memories to round off a great trip – recharged for the new year ahead.

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!

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Farewell Granada