Living in a pomegranate.

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The definition of the Spanish word ‘Granada’ is pomegranate. Throughout the city grow the twisted forms of the pomegranate tree, and pictures of the fruit are found on street signs, posters, bollards and every other available surface.

When I first arrived, a friend from my hostel told me that she thought the city was called Granada because, like the fruit, it contained so much. Something sweet, juicy, surprising. And I think she was right.

For the first week in Granada I stayed in the Makuto Guesthouse. I arrived bleary eyed from my 11hour overnight train from Barcelona and stumbled into a little paradise. Hammocks hang from every surface, the patio is brimming with flowering jasmine, and friendly staff and guests greet you from the tree-house which overlooks the patio or the chill-out room complete with guitars, cushions and books. It was the perfect place to start my Granada adventure. Not only did I make friends in the hostel quickly (assisted by nightly dinners and a well-stocked bar), it is located in the enchanting neighbourhood of the Albayzin.

The Albayzin is the old Moroccan area and is a warren of steep, cobbled lanes that are flanked by crumbling white-washed houses. You wander and wind your way along here, encountering friendly dogs, flamenco musicians and Moroccon shops. There are hundreds of plazas wedged in amongst the snaking lanes, where people drink, eat and play music out in the open.

After a week at the hostel, sometimes being a tourist, mostly looking for houses, I found a couch I could surf on and went to stay in the apartment of four lovely locals. After a couple of days there, practicing my Spanish and exploring a different part of the city, I finally found a house and moved in; just before I hit the two week mark in Granada.

And now I have made myself a little life in this lovely city. I live in a great old house in the neighbourhood of Realejo – the old Jewish neighbourhood - that is now a very studenty area, characterised by “El Nino de las Pinturas”. He is a graffiti artist who has decorated the crumbling old walls of the city with his intricate art. Our house has been made into a particularly beautiful mural.

I live with two Spaniards who don’t speak any English, Cote and Alvero, and a lovely happy dog Tani. Our house, like everywhere in Granada, is old and full of character.

In the morning I open my shutters to let in the blue skies and sunshine, I walk up the stairs – loose tiles clinking under my feet - and eat my breakfast on our spacious old terrace; with weather-beaten furniture and a view of Sierra Nevada that knocks the breath out of me every day. I usually spend many hours of the morning here, doing yoga, finishing Spanish homework or just doing computer errands. An interesting Spanish quirk is that very few people pay for their internet - they all have routers that pick up the signal from other people’s houses. The only place where the internet works for me is on the roof and even then intermittently.

Three times a week I have a two hour Spanish lesson with Alfonso, a funny local man who giggles a lot and likes to come up with kooky games and ideas to keep Spanish interesting. He also holds Spanish tea-time after his classes where the students before and the students after meet and speak Spanish while sipping tea and eating biscuits.

There is plenty of touristy stuff to keep me occupied, most of it involving wandering through tiny lanes and discovering interesting and ancient relics. There is also a lot of sitting and looking, due to the vast number of places with beautiful views. The Alhambra (an ancient fort from Moorish times) can be seen watching over the city from most places, and the snow-capped tops of the Sierra Nevada are always behind it.

In the afternoons my housemates often cook a big and delicious lunch at home and if we’re all there we’ll cook and eat it together, usually with Mario (our neighbour) or whichever friends are around. This is a great time for practicing my Spanish, or at least trying to follow their conversations. I have also had a few long and luxurious lunches on a terrace that is beyond beautiful, belonging to a friend of a friend, Julia.

The culture is very centred around the night-time here. You eat a late lunch and then have some down time, whether to siesta or just relax. Here I try to do some writing, or go to a café for some more reliable internet and a change of scene. A little café called Mundo Manila is a great spot for this and also for later in the evening, with vegetarian tapas and free documentaries once a week! I spend a lot of afternoons there or at Papaupa in Realejo, which is another cute little bar with yummy food and free wifi. They’re getting to know me well.

Often I spend evenings on the terrace, which after a warm day is a magical place to be. The sun sets golden over the rambling confusion of the city and reflects off the snow on the mountains at the same time. Sometimes it catches on the turning blades of the wind farm in the distance. The church bells ring loud across the city, I drink a glass of wine and watch the day fade to a close.

Dinner isn’t until at least 9pm. Most of the time it’s tapas, given that we’re in the town where every drink gets you a free snack. A cheap and easy way to get a bit drunk and get fed, the portions are surprisingly large and if you know where you’re going, are delicious too. Every plaza has many good places, but the best spot is Calle Elvira. My favourite there is a fusion bar called Babel, with two-for-one tapas Wednesdays!

I still spend lots of time with the first friends I made, from Makuto Guesthouse. They work there and so I go and hang out with them, drinking mojitos in the treehouse, watching movies in the chill-out or for weekly Paella night (incredible and oddly, cooked by an Austrian).

A lot of evenings also seem to be centred around Huerto de Carlos. This is a little plaza with stunning views of the Alhambra, where every person in the Albayzin brings their dogs, guitars, hula hoops and beer. For all hours of the night you can find people here - drinking and playing music and generally having a lovely time. The residents of the area wanted it shut down because it was too noisy, and in response the people held a giant raucous party!

It’s not just Huerto de Carlos that has music either. There are a plethora of buskers dotted around the streets who are surprisingly talented, most of them playing flamenco guitar but lots of variation too. I’ve seen a number of very talented local bands playing in the plazas and making quite a bit of money. There are also always bands playing at different bars, and flamenco shows everywhere. A lot of these are a bit gimmicky and overpriced, but for 6-8 euro you can see some amazing performances, with a guitarist, singer and dancer. I always used to just think of flamenco as dancing and maybe a bit of guitar playing, but here I have realised it’s the whole combination of elements that makes it so spectacular. I have fallen in love with flamenco singing. It’s so soulful and really makes the passion of the performance burn into your skin.

If you really want to go out at night, you know it’s going to be a late one. Usually I’m going with my Makuto friends, and their night shift doesn’t finish till midnight. With a lot of faffing around, we usually trickle out of the hostel by 1am, after lots of shouting of “Vamos a la puta calle!” There seem to be only a few bars that everyone goes to, (Entresuelo for reggae and funk, Pato Palo for spanishy ska, Boogaclub for soul and pop) and it’s usually a combination of one or two of these places until the wee hours of the morning.

The late nights usually mean quite a solid sleep in and lots of slow hours spent lying in the sun on the terrace, but that’s all right with me.

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