The Gaze of the Red Fortress.

I intended to stay in Granada only a couple of days. It was in from the coast and meant a return to the oppressive heat I'd fled Seville to escape from. A week later, as I finally decide to take my leave, I feel there is much, much more to uncover in this small but compelling city.

The first morning I was very happy, with the two day call; it was surely more than enough time to see the place. The city centre on day one, maybe the cathedral as well, and the following day I'd do the obligatory Alhambra and its Palacios Nazaries; which for some reason I'd had to book days in advance to get a ticket despite a daily capacity of 8,000 visitors. Weird and surely there was a clue in there for me somewhere.

The city was entirely nice. The Gran Via Colon and Calle Reyes Catolicos that dissect the centre are impressive and wouldn't look out of place in the European Mecca that is Madrid. Michelle Obama even made a cameo appearance leaving the Cathedral with her daughters. I'm sure Bo was around too; somewhere amongst the cavalcade of jeeps and national police cars flashing their blue lights, or perhaps hiding in the jackets of the not so subtle American undercover agents patrolling the sidewalks in their cargo pants and pastel polo shirts.

The afternoon was spent with a couple of beers in an air-conditioned bar airing the fútbol, free tapas didn't go astray either. Totally pleasant and enjoyable and I could see why the first lady might have come to keep the kids occupied for a couple of days over their summer holidays.

Then after siesta time as I strolled from the grand madrileño city along the Carrera del Darrio in search of new restaurant for dinner everything changed. The sun had set, the air had dropped to bearable, people were emerging and bringing life, and I entered another land. The narrow and worn carrera on which I walked snaked over the Rio Darrio. The river, which at one time served a purpose as a life source as well as a moat, divided the Alhambra, it's walls and palace windows now glowing an awe inspiring lit red, and the seemingly untouched Moorish barrio that is the Albayzín; forged of indistinguishable white houses in that classic Spanish style you would expect to see on your travels. And as I slowly passed above the streaming Rio, under the eternal gaze of the Red Fortress I began to realise I actually had no idea where I was. This place, out of nowhere, was somewhere else.

At the top of the road was a small plaza where people dined in restaurants under terraced vines. Others were content to mill around the fountain and sit along the riverside avoiding the orange warmth of the sparse light. Musicians roamed the square searched for a euro or two. All the while taking in the majesty of the Alhambra and the isolation induced from the dark mass that hid the Albayzín.

Back down in the city and a slight exploration down the maze of back streets revealed cheap bars offering their free tapas with beer specials; multiple kebab shops asking to be recognised as the local specialty; and Moroccan style, deep and dungeon-like, tea houses where everything seemed to be made from beautiful sequined faded fabrics.

As for the Alhambra itself; if you can avoid the hottest hours and stand the mass excess of people, there is much to appreciate in how the finest in Islamic culture did business. They created a heaven on earth and it's a most alien and eerily beautiful experience. From which limitless conclusions and inspirations can be drawn.

I leave the romance of Granada, a place where east met west and surely won, knowing I've been affected. I will undoubtedly return.