Cracking the celluloid ceiling, one day at a time.
It’s cloudy and damp in Paris at the moment; spring’s decided it doesn’t feel like making much of an effort, yet. The last time I found myself wandering around in this kind of chilly damp was last November, during a quick weekend-trip to Granada. Nestled at the foot of the Sierra Nevada mountains, Granada is one of Spain’s coldest winter cities. By mid-November, autumn was on the brink of being extinguished by frost and snow, and the sun was only shining fitfully.
The old, labyrinthine Arab quarter known as El Albaicín is where all tourists head for views of the Alhambra. I went up there on the Sunday morning, when there was barely a soul in sight. The whole quarter was awash with rusty colours and clouds billowed overhead like thick smoke. It would have been a spectacular sort of backdrop for Bonfire Night.
Camera battery was low, so I only managed a few photos. Most were taken in the Albaicín and at the panoramic look-out point opposite the Alhambra. A couple are from the inside of the palace and views over the city. Now’s as good a time as any to share them, I reckon.