The Hunt Museum Limerick hold their first Open Submissions Exhibition between Friday 5th December 2025 and Saturday 28th February 2026. I am delighted to have been chosen for the exhibition. My painting, Lovers on a Train, is taken from a train trip between Dublin, Cork and Limerick. I noticed the couple sitting across from me were an island unto themselves. Touring Ireland, their purchases spread between them on the table, while they were absorbed in their screens. So, the tableau involves a still life, a classical composition– like Venus and Mars, and a landscape whizzing by beyond the window. The perfect composition for me. I like to capture the moment to make a visual short story in a particular time and space. People together and all alone; in trains, bars, cafes and cars. I enjoy doing it and hope that others enjoy looking at it. I’m looking forward to heading back down to Limerick. By train, of course.
The bus from Grenada to Almunecar heads due south through the Sierra Nevada. We get an eyeful of high mountain scenery. As a designated driver, it is such a pleasure to sit back on the bus and soak in the beautiful views. Almunecar is on the Grenada region’s short coast. The bus station is at the high end of town. Disembarking, we cross the busy thoroughfare and take a sidewalk seat at the first available cafe bar, Casablanca by name. Though it doesn’t resemble Rick’s Bar; I am sure a lot of people come here, with welcome refreshments and a terrace panorama of busy town life. When we orient ourselves, we take a fifteen minute walk seawards along Avenida Europa to our hotel. Hotel Goya is a small family run affair, between the main lower town and the seafront. Above all, is the castle; Castillo de San Miguel.
Near our hotel, the Botanical Gardens contain the ruins of the ancient Phoenician fish salting factory. The Phoenicians were settled on this coast from 800BC and their name for the town was Sexi. The natives might still refer to themselves as Sexitanos. Just so you know. The tourist office is right across the road. Housed in the La Najarra Palace, a nineteenth century building in the Mudejar style. Set amidst a wonderful garden, with towering palms, chequerred walkways and a central pool, it is an Eden of relaxation on a hot day. There’s a child sized house at one end. We spent a late afternoon sketching there, with no end product but pleasure.
The town name is derived from the Arabic, meaning surrounded by mountains. Indeed it is. The Costa Tropical collides with steep mountains to spectacular effect. Almunecar has a population of just over twenty five thousand. It is more a Spanish than a foreign tourist resort. Less busy than Nerja just a few miles west along the coast, it is intimate and relaxed.
Almunecar may ring a bell for literature fans, featuring in Laurie Lee’s book, As I walked Out One Midsummer Morning, 1969. This formed the second installment of his memoirs, a few years after Cider with Rosie. From 1934, Lee travelled the length of Spain. He made his way taking casual jobs and busking; he played violin. He arrived in Almunecar, which turned out to be his last stop in Spain. Here, he worked in a hotel, and as a tourist guide. The Spanish Civil war broke out in 1936 and Lee was evacuated by a British warship sent from Gibraltar. He would return to Spain the following year to fight for the Republicans. In Lee’s account, the town is referred to as Castillo.
The Castillo de San Miguel certainly defines the town. It was first established by the Romans in the times of the Punic Wars, two centuries BC. Subsequent alterations now prevail. The fortress prosperred in Moorish times, ultimately surrendered in 1488. During the Napoleonic Wars, the Castle last operated under control of the French. The English, with Spanish support, seriously damaged the complex, although the outer defenses were reletavily unscathed. For a while it was used as the town cemetery, until the rise of tourism prompted restoration work to begin in the 1980s
Visiting the castle is a must. The old town is a serpentine maze, constantly rising. Just off the main drag, Plaza Higuitos provides an oasis. While the eponymous establishment is beseiged by growing queues, across the tiny square there’s room at Bodegas Manuel Callejas The tapas here are good too, not just the automatic default; as we have eaten enough olives throughout Grenada to turn green and start a pip factory
Higher up, the narrow street widens into Plaza de la Constitucion, with the Ayuntamiento (Town Hall). along one side. There are two good restaurants at each end; and we fortify ourselves with drinks and tapas. The Church of the Incarnation is on a hill behind the town hall. It dates from the 16th century and has a stern imposing facade. This is the centre for the Semana Santa processions, and the street is tellingly named Calle Jesus Nazareno. Behind the church is Casa de la Cultura with a museum and theatre.
The orienteer within eventually guides us to the high esplanade of San Miguel. The saint’s festival is getting underway and everyone is gearing up for the nights festivities, setting up stalls and quaffing a few aperitifs. So, it’s getting into evening by the time we reach the castle. The lady at the door obligingly gives us a pass for the next day as we stop our visit abruptly owing to a sudden onset of starvation. Returning early the next day we are rewarded with a relaxed time amongst the ruins, and breathtaking views from the ramparts. There’s a good exhibition at the on site museum showing the castle’s evolution through the ages.. From the southern ramparts, the view downwards to the coast overlooks the cross at Penon del Santo. This was once connected to the castle by viaduct.
We take the rapid descent route back down. This winds down beneath towering castle wallls, touching earth beside our Botanical Gardens. Heading on to the searfront, Penones de San Cristobal are three rocky crags, dividing the searont at Almunecar. The highest crag, Penon Del Santo, is marked by a tall cross, a modernist structure from 1900. Guarding the base of this rock, there’s a monument to Abdalrahman I, the founder of the Emirate of Cordoba in 756.
Puerta Del Mar to the east is the main bay of the old town while Playa Del Cristobal is a long straight esplanade heading into the west. Chirinquito El Pilici and Bar La Cana are amongst the many beach bars lining the seafront, offering a large selection of food, many with charcoal grills. We stop streetside at Restaurant Sabina. Sabina Schumacker herself greets us. A German lady, she makes a superb menu guide. Though I am not always a fish fiend, other than my chipper favourite of battered cod and chips, Sabina guides us towards the Monkfish and it is as superb as promised. Next door is the Helios Costa Tropical, the largest hotel on the seafront. This boasts a rooftop bar with great sea views, the prime place to bask in the setting sun.
Another night we eat at Elysium Restaurant farther on. It radiates a relaxed Bohemian air. The manager, laid back and friendly, tells us about the cuisine prepared by her husband from Aghanistan. The couple moved here last year from Austria and are enjoying the sun and sea air. We enjoy the food immensely. Ad hoc entertainment is provided by an English woman shellacing her errant husband, first on mobile phone (aren’t mobile phones wonderful!) and then in person. As we sneak out she comments loudly on our Irishness. We fade to black.
From here, the long seafront winds away to a beautiful emtiness, darkness on the edge of town, lights at the edge of the next twinkling with distance. The sun has set, but will rise again tomorrow. For many, in fact, the night never really ended. The Spanish know how to do festivals, and with the festival of San Miguel in full swing, the hilltop revelry goes on long into the night. Its a pleasant distant soundtrack, cushioning the fall into sleep.
After check out we head out for breakfast and towards the bus station. Churreria Picasso opens early, and is a popular start to the day for locals. Churros are made with choux pastry dough, fried till crispy on the outside and cut in long lengths. Taken with coffee for breakfast, or dipped in hot chocolate, they are popular throughout the Spanish speaking world.
We have time for one last coffee at Casablanca and watch the time go by, again. There’s a crush of coaches at 11 o’clock, but a friendly German expat puts shows us to the right one. It’s just over an hour along the coast to Malaga and we close the circle of our magical bus tour.
I know I’ve played this before, but I…. I’m not going to say it; and neither did Humphrey Bogarde. As Time Goes By was written by Herman Hupfield in 1931 and rose to fame when sung by Dooly Wilson (playing Sam) in the film Casablanca in 1942.
We took the bus direct from Malaga airport to Granada some sixty miles northeast. The journey takes about an hour and a half which brought us into late afternoon. The road rises through the coastal mountain range before falling to La Vega de Granada, the fertile green basin leading into the city. The Sierra Nevada soar to the south. Spain’s highest peaks make an impressive backdrop as we alight at the terminus, Grenada with a population of over two hundred thousand sits two and a half thousand feet above sea level. Higher still, the magical Alhambra floats above the city.
I visited Grenada before, around Semana Santa in late March, and the Sierra were snow capped on the horizon. Grenada shivered, showers of snow and sleet washing across the limpid Spring air. That was my pilgrimage to the Alhambra, visions of Spain caught in a curious snow globe. It was brought about by my first guitar, an Alhambra, and my ambition to play flamenco. Now I’m back.Fying solo’s fine, but with M in tow I have a shoulder to lean on and an ear to burn and boast to.
Granada bus station is a good bit out of the city centre and we take a taxi to our hotel. We are staying in the Exe Triunfo Hotel off the top of the main avenue, Gran Via de Colon. The receptionist is a fountain of knowledge and our three days in Granada are well mapped out. The hotel is next door to an ancient entrance gate of the city. The Gate of Elvira, a russet fortified archway, presides over the square. Passing through, we enter the labyrinth of the Old Town winding down to the city centre. Gran Via de Colon to one side and a steep hillside forming the other bracket.
Calle Elvira itself is the main drag of the Old Town. The name is a curious echo of our friend’s villa in Elviria near Marbella where we will be heading next week.. But this is a slice of ancient urban Spain. Rambling, rickety and full of character. It is lined with quirky shops, cafes and casual eateries. Elvira leads to the city centre where the Plaza Nueva spans the Darro River. Before that, the street branches into a few vibrant city lanes. Caldereria Nueva leads uphill into the Albaicin. Towards Gran Via, Cetti Meriem has a cluster of clubs and eateries. We eat at a few of these, the food and the atmosphere are great. This area had been a haunt of mine in the cold times of old. Hennigan’s Irish bar to be precise. Nights spent amidst copious pints and a vivid soundtrack of suitable rock including the Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Iggy Pop.
At the far end of Cetti Meriem, the Cathedral soars above the pediment. The Cathedral was begun in the sixteenth century, replacing the existing mosque within the Moorish medina. It is a montage of architecture, the end backing onto Gran Via a packed ornate gothic, the frontage an imposing Baroque facing Plaza Pasiegas. The massive towers on the north were never completed. I recall how its white interior perfectly mirrored the cold exterior in that cruel April. More comforting, the vast dome with gold stars scattered across a deep blue sky.
Elvira ends at Plaza Nueva with its lively bars and restaurants. Despite its name it’s an old square, being built over the Darro River in 1500. The Royal Chancery flanks the north side while the Church of Santa Ana closes the square with the Darro visible beyond. Nearby there’s a fountain and beyond there’s access to the Alhambra via parkland. Alternatively, you can take a bus. It’s a punishing uphill climb, especially in the heat, so that’s what we did this time.
The Alhambra for five centuries was home to the Moors who had occupied much of Iberia in the 8th Century. Grenada would be their last stronghold. The Nasrid dynasty ruled Grenada from 1232 until the Reconquista of 1492. They built the Alhambra on the site of an 11th century fortification. In fact that had been the palace of Samual the Prince, a Jewish leader in a Moslem state. Muhammed I founded the complex we see today, greatly enlarged and embellished over the two hundred and sixty years of Nasrid rule. Ultimately, Muhammad XII, aka Boabdil, was defeated by the combined monarchs of Castile and Aragon and forced to surrender Granada to them. As he left for the coast through the Sierra Nevada, he took one last look back at what had long been his, and his people’s home.
The mountain pass where this happened is now called Suspiro del Moro, the Moor’s Sigh. Salman Rushdie’s book, the Moor’s Last Sigh 1995, refers a few times to the episode. In a story of identity and memory, Boabdil’s action provides apt illustration. It was Rushdie’s first book since the Satannic Verses of 1988. Fanatical reaction to that resulted in the fatwa issued by Ayatollah Khomeini, leader of Iran. Similarly aligned groups such as Hezbollah and Al Quaeda have persisted in the fatwa into the current century. Rushdie lost an eye in a knife attack in New York three years ago. He still lives, and writes and thinks.
The Alhambra became the court of Ferdinand and Isabella. Christopher Columbus was witness to Boabdil’s handover and was received at court by the Monarchs as they approved his voyage to the Americas. There is symmetry therefore in that it was an American, Washington Irving, who established the Alhambra in the modern imagination. He lived in the complex in 1830 and published Tales of the Alhambra 1832. This contributed hugely to the preservation and restoration of the Alhambra over the last two hundred years.
It is a huge complex with many different facets, including palaces, gardens, two hotels and other services. The Alcazaba fortress on the west side overlooks Granada. There are several towers giving great panoramic views over the city and mountains and the complex itself. The Generalife is a garden estate just outside the walls to the east. The Nasrid Palace is the jewel of the Alhambra, a glorious medley of rooms and courtyards, pools and fountains, featuring the best of Mudejar craft and design. Access to the Nasrid Palace requires a specific ticket. This was fine on my first visit but this time, though I tried some three months in advance, tickets were sold out. So shop early. It’s a treasure indeed. Nevertheless, there is an awful lot to see with a general admission ticket. From morning till late aternoon, we had our time in paradise.
At the business end of the complex is the Alcazaba. Plaza Aljizibes alongside forms something of a town square, a public access area with services and refreshment stalls. The Renaissance Palace of Carlos V lines the other aide of the square. This was begun in 1527 but only completed four hundred years later. The Renaissance building encloses a circular courtyard, with a collonaded terrace on the upper floor. The Museum of Fine Arts there houses a collection of Spanish art from the 17th to the 19th century. The Alhambra Museum is on the ground floor.
Just past the Nazrid Palace, the Partal Palace is accessible, This is the oldest surviving palace with an elegant pavillion overlooking a reflective pool. Calle Real is a public street near the southern wall. Along here is the Church of Santa Maria built on the old mosque. Further on is the American Hotel, with a cafe in its pleasant courtyard. I had stopped here before for some coffee and heat. Today we go for the Parador de Granada, a larger hotel. We stopped for a drink on its terrace, a perfectly relaxing conclusion to the day
Beyond the gardens of Partal and Secano we leave the Alhambra for the Generalife. This lies across a narrow ravine with beautiful gardens leading up to an attractive villa. Built as a retreat for the Royal Household free from the travails of the Palace, it offers some of the best views of the Alhambra, Granada and Sierra Nevada
We left the Alhambra by way of Carretera de los Chinos, a long downhill saunter below the castle walls. This led us down to the Darro and Puenta del Rey Chico. There was a music concert that evening where the riverside street broadens into an esplanade with the floodlit Alhambra towering over the far bank. Crowds sat on the plaza, while a singer and guitarist serenaded from the tower at one end.
Facing the heights of the Alhambra is the steep ancient neighbourhood of Albaicin, and Sacromonte, the Sacred Mountain. From near the foot of Elvira there’s a sharp uphill to Plaza San Gregorio. The white church was built in the late sixteenth century, becoming deeply embedded in the community. We stopped adjacent for good food on a terrace at the edge of the commercial sector. From here the narrow street climbs up through the Alcaibin to the Mirador St Nicholas. The Mirador hosts such a view over sierra and castle that it must elicit an aching sigh or two. The grounds of the mosque next door offer respite, heat and throng dispelled in its subtle shade and soft fountains.
Beyond the Albaicin the steep hill descends to the Darro. There’s a turn at a picturesque, even picaresque, taverna, El Rincon del Chapiz. Take this turn to visit the Sacred Mountain. With our first step into Sacromonte, we are in a different world. The city evaporates and a mirage of a mountain top village rises before us. Winding up above the Darro Ravine, white houses cling to the slopes and the Sierra Nevada embraces all. We stop for a drink and tapas at Casa Juanillo, wondering how we have found ourselves in the middle of nowhere, and the centre of everything. This was originally the Gitanos quarter, and a mainspring for the source of flamenco music. Dotted all around are music venues; hold your whisht and you can hear the music echo from the stones and trees.
Fly away on my zephyr
I feel it more than ever
And in this perfect weather
We’ll find a place together
For old time’s sake, The Red Hot Chilli Peppers Zephyr Song (from By the Way 2002) to take us out, and up.
xxharrison 