Granada- Where East Meets West

La Alhambra - Granada

Finally, after a week of recuperating physcially and mentally from my trip to Morroco, and adjusting to the European pace of life, I spent the day yesterday at the most perfectly beautiful place I have ever experienced. La Alhambra, which means ¨red¨in Arabic, is the remnants of a palace, or rather I should say a city of palaces, gardens and fountains, built by what the Spanish and the British refer to as ¨Moors¨but who actually were Muslims who invaded Spain from Morroco centuries ago, in fact in the eighth century of the last milennium.

Here in the mountains where the water flows abundantly, and cools the air, they harvested and controlled it and incorporated it into pools and fountains and elaborate chanels that flood the entire place with perfectly mirrored reflections of its delicate beauty. Everywhere you turn there is a new vista of elegance and simple beauty. The hundreds of delicate white alabaster pillars that support dark arches of wooden lattice work carved from cedar, have withstood centuries of what has destroyed every other monument of equal splendor.

Earthquakes, wars, and simply the erosion of time have not greatly affected this beautiful place where once beautiful women dressed in silks and flowing robes lived in Harims while the Sultan dispensed justice in the Hall of Justice, and the public waited for his decision in the marble floored anterooms; where guests were welcomed with grandeur beside the reflecting pool or a fountain formed from twelve lions, each with a sparkling stream of water emitted from its mouth, at the center of a cross representing the four elements of the universe.

Designed by architechts who clearly took into consideration the temperature of marble both in winter and summer, the angle of sunlight at sunrise and moon rise, the movement or stillness of the reflecting pools, arranged to display the shadows of the columns and the light through the traceries of lattice and the greenery of the gardens, , this splendidly sensous city reflects for me what my Palestinian friend said when he said, "Once we were a great nation. Now we are nothing."

This is the first time I have actually seen the marvels of the Arabic mind at work, executed with such attention to detail and proportion that its beauty stuns you. No wonder the Muslims dream of recovering this place for themselves! Time has barely touched it. It was designed to last for eternity, and it has come very close to achieving its aim, as close as anything in this world can claim to do. The heartbreak is that at some point, the control of this beautiful place was surrendered, without a battle, by a sweet natured Arab named Boabdil, who, unlike his viciously brutal father, was a gentle and peace loving man. So, he left in the night, asking only that the portal by which he left be closed so no one would ever leave by that door again. Without a bloody war, his court divided by disension, the Spanish somehow were able to divide and conquer with politics and innuendo, taking advantage of Boabdil´s uncertain hold on power and inability to take a resolute stand and command his people with authority. In a moment of weakness, Boabdil allowed Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand to take over La Alhambra in 1492.

If that date seems familiar to you, it is because the first thing the Queen did to celebrate their victory in recovering and conquering the Arabs who had lived for centuries in La Alhambra, was to give money to Christopher Columbus to go to find the fastest route to the Orient, so they could conquer that too!

Today I saw the casket in which Queen Isabella kept the jewels she alledgedly sold to finance Columbus' trip. It is kept, believe it or not, in the museum attached to the Cathedral that she had built to celebrate the victory of Catholicism over Islam.

The Cathedral they built is an incredible contrast to the beauty of La Alhambra. It is enormous, with 45 foot high cuppolas looming high over you so you must gaze upwards and feel overwhelmed by its immensity. But to me it seemed gaudy in its Baroque overstatement, filled with ornate golden statues and elaborate dust filled altars worshiping the Virgin Mary secreted in every corner. Even the candles that flicjer and burn in other Cathedrals here are electric imitations.

The subtlety and delicately orchestrated loveliness of the Arab architecture has permeated Granada, which, to my mind, makes it the most beautiful city in Spain.

But, in contrast, the Catholic sensibility to my eye seems permeated with blood. The blood of Christ seems to be the obsession of all the paintings and statuary,. That, combined with the sacharine, sentimental idealization of the Virgin Mary, with the ornate throne upon which she is constantly placed, and the extravagant and excessive use of gold seems garish to my eye, next to the simplicity of line and sweetness of La Alhambra.

It might be too much to say it seems arrogant, but it feels like the place is boasting and shouting is in a place that should be still, and express gentleness and humility. But that is how it is here in passionate Spain where it is almost impossible to hear silence.

I have trouble with the blatant adoration of suffering, the images of the bloody crucifixion and the sad, weeping faces are everywhere. The love affair with Christ's painful death seems to fill the paintings and statues that suround you. It is like an altar worshipping death. Nowhere is there the image of the risen Christ, filled with joy, demonstrating that death is merely an illusion. Where is the Christ that welcomed children and taught that you must become as a child to enter the Kingdom of Heaven? Any child that enters here would be frightened at all the blood and gore. By the time they are grown, they have dismissed God, and turn instead to drinking, gambling, and sex.

The wonder of the miracle of the resurrection seems entirely lost here in the world that worships money, power, sex, and, yes, death! It is entirely based in the manufacture of guilt, and the erroneous belief that confession gives you a clean slate to sin again! It fosters dependency and encourages guilt and fear of punishment to control an errant population who seem to ignore the whole thing with great ease! The women seem dowdy at fifty, descending into plump maternity immediately after marriage. The men congregate in the cafes and watch television and drink and smoke constantly and play pinball.

Outside the Cathedral lurk gypsy women who accost you with a branch of a plant that is shown on top of the Cathedral. The try to press it into your hand, and if you make the mistake of accepting their gift, as I did, they immediately proceed to read your palm in Spanish, telling you, of course, that you will have a long life, your children will all be healthy and free of accidents, and you will have a great love in your life, and he is waiting for you here in Spain! Well, I may be gullible, but that gullible I am not! And then they want money for telling your fortune in a language you do not understand, and did not ask for. And if you offer coins, they refuse them, saying coins are bad luck, and they must have paper!!!! Well, I lost my peace on that ruse for a moment.

That experience seems a perfect example of the contradictions of Spanish culture, though: gypsies preying on people who are paying three Euros to go into the church! And then, of course, you pay another three for the museum where you get to see where Isabel and Ferdinand and their crazy daughter and her husband are buried in iron caskets in a crypt. (The English woman beside me said she wanted to crack them open so she could see what they looked like! On second thought she took that idea back immediately! I assured her that they were not there, anyway, that they were somewhere else. I left it an open question as to where, but I pointed up. She seemed to understand.)

Most of the tourists here are European, and the preponderance are from Italy. I understand a little Italian, so I listen in on the guides pointing out the superiority of Catholicism over Protestantism, and I wonder, ¨Will it ever end, this constant comparison of religions, each one proclaiming it is superior to the other?¨The fight for peace seems destined to continue until humanity recognizes it is one, and it cannot be separate from its Source which is Divine Love!

Here I am in an internet cafe surrounded by images of the young Michael Jacksonin Thriller, Tiger Woods, Richard Gere, and somebody´s famous basketball, images of the American culture they aspire to emmulate.

And it all began here in 1492 when Isabel and Ferdinand won La Alhambra and sent Chrisopher Columbus off to find China, and he came back with America! Here is where East meets West, and I must confess, after this trip I have a far deeper appreciation of the Eastern way of life! It is far too expensive here, 1.80 Euros an hour. But at least I have recorded my feelings about Granada.

I managed, finally, to get my ticket changed so that I do not return until October 30th, so I hope someone is reading this blog and knows where I am! My next step is to call my friends in Europe who have offered me places to stay in Germany and in Copenhagen. Perhaps Lisa will find me a place in France. I would love to hear from anyone who is reading this blog! My email is shelora.fitzgerald@gmail.com