She revealed herself to us, slowly, coquettishly as we walked upward on the road. The hot night pressed with the force of a thousand kisses when we glimpsed something new and exciting around each bend. The hill swayed with us, against us, alternatively hiding and showing. The road we were on led into the heart and loins of al-Andalus, where the Almoravids and Almohads built their cultural and economic centre.
The blue air is fragrant with the arid desertlike air that permeates you, a soft Iberian massage. As we ascend further, we get glimpses of the lit Granada cityscape in between cacti strands, cacti whose limbs and appendages resemble meaty hands and feet, almost dancing along with us, hiding, blocking, revealing the truths of the city we are meant to see.
Finally, we reach the top, near the Alhambra, and plunge ourselves again into the dark, following a dirt road near the cemetery. It leads us into the warm dark, twisting upward among orderly quiet rows of olive trees but not before a brief dalliance with a dark wood. In those woods, the expectant silence was only broken by the crunch of our feet on the gravel below.
As a car passed by us, we briefly entertained the idea of scaring the passerby with outlandish costumes and weird prayer-like poses, rising out at them, phantoms in the dark, ancient Moors returned to reclaim the caliphate. Instead we stood quietly by and watched the red taillights creep down the road, briefly illuminating the solemn olive trees that had watched over us like sentinels.
We were surprised and pleased to discover the rich soft sand-like soil of the earth around cushioned falls nicely, as we both fell trying to climb a slippery hill for a better view of the dark landscape. Retreat was the next logical option and we crossed the fields, bypassing the winding road, back to the cemetery and the hidden presence of the Alhambra, the red fortress and the living place of the Nasrids. In their alcazabra they prayed enclosed by fortfied walls.
Veering off to the side and down a long ravine that contained a well-worn path, we inadvertently bypassed the Alhambra and instead passed into the old part of the city, penetrating that which we had only seen from afar. White walls and small houses surrounded us, smooth black cobblestones pushed us forth, ever forward and back again upward into an ancient place from which we have yet to return from, for our timeless souls remain lost in wonder, wandering the twisting streets.
