Story: An unusual birthday celebration in Granada, Spain

I was living and working in Sevilla, Spain, in 2004 and was feeling alone in the world. For my birthday, I needed a change, so I decided to take myself to Granada, a place I had long dreamed about. I immediately felt at home there. Winding cobble-stoned streets, white-washed houses, cool thin mountain air. Unlike Sevilla, I knew right away that she could be for me. I thought: I could live and die here. Maybe I already have.

I was welcomed by other travellers within hours of my arrival -- invitations for dinner, for drinks, for Flamenco. It was my first experience of the European travellers community, so open to meeting new people and sharing new joys. The next day, I awoke at dawn, the city quiet. I walked with soft steps through the streets, catching glimpses of the rising sun over the Alhambra, the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains framing the scene from behind. The moon was still bright and high in the sky, greeting the day but not quite ready to leave night behind. I went to the Alhambra, a place I knew only in my own fairy tales, to spend a day wandering alone through history.

The Alhambra sits in the mountains of Sierra Nevada, facing the Albayzin and the Sacromonte, rising above the city of Granada like an acropolis. It was originally built in Roman times, or perhaps even earlier, but the Arab construction began when the capital of the Moors was moved to Granada in the 11th century. A large Jewish community had already been settled since the city's early development, perhaps some of the first settlers in Spain before even the Romans. The beginning of the Alhambra we see today, however, was created by the Nasrid dynasty between the 13th and 15th centuries and was occupied by them until the expulsion of the Moors by the Catholic Kings in 1492. The Alcazaba is the oldest remaining section of the original Alhambra, and was built as a fortress to protect the sultan and his family. The palace complex, or Nasrid Palaces, contained administration offices, rooms for meetings and public audiences, and private rooms for the use of the sultan and his family. The most famous photographs of the Alhambra are usually taken in the rooms of these palaces, in the well-known Court of the Myrtles, in the Patio de Lindaraja or, my favorite, in the Palace of the Lions. After the Moors were forced to give up their beloved city, the Charles V Palace was built as the new Royal House, as a circle inscribed within a square to reflect the symbols of earth and heaven, and its outer walls covered with stones shaped like fluffly pillows. The Christians also modified the Alcazaba and added new gardens. The most beautiful of gardens at the Alhambra is, of course, the Generalife, which means, simply, "Gardens."

It was a day of constant surprises. I felt like a child, taking my time through halls, passing through doors, turning corners to find more and more beauty: suddenly a blooming garden of reds and greens and yellows, or a small hidden chamber with secret words carved in stone, or an arched window revealing the white city of Granada in its frame. Although I was overwhelmed, the only possibility of seeing it all involves moving on, moving through, moving forward. And so I continued, almost fearful of the next revelation, taken over at moments by tears, by gasps, by giggles. What heavenly torture is this? How does one experience such beauty and then go on? The sounds were of morning birds, of flowing water, low murmers echoing off stone walls, footsteps on dirt and stone, the gardener´s shears, the cat paws and soft meows. The sun took a long time to find me, and so I would seek congregations of cats and join them for moments in shards of sunlight. What secrets do they carry of ghosts and wind and song?

I became suddenly overwhelmed by physical desires: I wanted wine and cigarettes; I wanted coffee and sugar and all that is sweet and rich. I was hungry, for food, for drink, for sex. I was empty and full all at once, utterly satisfied and yet so aware of the absence of fulfillment. I wanted to live inside of this longing, this unfulfillable desire that seems to well up in the presence of perfection. Is this what it is to face death? Do all the perfect moments flash before our eyes in one breath, pulling us backwards and forewards at the same time? Is this Heaven?

"What diversion is here for the eye! Here the noble person renews his appetite for beauty. The Pleides serve him as an amulet; the breeze protects him with its magic. Without peer, a brilliant cupola shines, of beautiful highlights and hidden corners. Overcome, Gemini streches out a hand; the moon comes along to converse. The stars wish to be encrusted here and rovolve no more in the celestial wheel, and in both patios submissively and faithfully serve as slaves. It is no wonder that they err and tresspass their assigned limits, ready to serve... The portico is so beautiful, that the palace with the celestial vault competes. With such lovely gossamer you dressed it, that you leave the looms of Yemen forgotten. How many arches climb to its summit, on columns adorned by the light, like celestial spheres which revolve about the shining pillar of the dawn! The columns are so lovely in every way, that chattering tongues spread their flame: the marble throws off its clear light, which invades the corner darkened by shadow; its reflections become iridescent and you would say, despite their size, that they are pearls. We never saw such sublimity reached, or surroundings more light and spacious. We never saw a garden more blooming, never knew a harvest sweeter, nor sensed such a frangrance" (Ibn Zamrak, court poet. Inscribed on the wall of the Sala de Dos Hermanas -- the longest inscription in the Alhambra, 24 lines).

"You do not see any discrepancy in the creation of the Compassionate. So fix your gaze, do you see any flaws? Then, fix your gaze again and again, and your gaze will recoil back to you discomforted and weary" ('Sovereignty' from the Qur'an, carved into stone in the ceiling of the Comares Hall).

Granada means pomegranite, that licientious fruit spilling with juicy seeds. I thought as I walked her narrow streets through the mountains, back to the hotel from the Alhambra: perhaps I will take up her seeds and be forced to stay.