Granada

04 May

After five distinctly non-traditional tapas at Joseba Añorga’s smart neighbourhood restaurant near my hotel, the back way to Granada beckons. This is the A348 & A346 and runs between the magnificent Sierra Nevada to the north and Sierras Contrav and Gador to the south. If it’s not on every biker’s ‘must ride’ list, really should be.

Had it not been for a minor altercation with an Andalucian garbage truck, it would have been a perfect day’s riding. Even this incident ended up on a positive note of sorts as three solicitous, English-speaking buenos samaritanos went off in search of fiberglass-reinforced tape to lovingly bandage up the busted indicators. I’m humbled and lucky to have escaped the incident unscathed and to find myself in the company of these saintly folk. Their phrase-book is enhanced with the addition of “Thank you for saving my ass” which they repeat with a grin and I’m cautiously on my way.

Nothing - however - can detract from the grace and beauty of Granada experienced for the first time. I’d added it to the itinerary as it was roughly on the way back to Bilbao and a few people had said it was ‘nice’, in a fairly noncommittal way. But this place has charm and spectacle in equal measure and way exceeds my modest expectations.

“That, my friend is a gin & tonic,” says the waiter at El Balćon de San Nicolás as he drains the rest of the bottle of Larios (Spanish Gin) leaving room for a splash of tonic, “and you have the best view in the city”. There is no argument with this: the view of the Al Hambra against the background of Sierra Nevada is better than any photograph you may have seen and worth the climb up through the steep narrow paths of the Albaicin Quarter.

I walk down the hill to the Cervantes district for dinner at Atelier Casa Comidas. This gets a mention in the Michelin guide but punches well above its weight as this is nudging star-level food with impeccable service. The route takes in any number of little tree-lined squares all with cafes populated by satisfied-looking locals, as well they might be.

I’m always suspicious of the self-congratulatory tone employed by British politicians when they remind us how fortunate we are to live in the sixth-biggest economy in the world. This seems in stark contrast with the abject fury that appears to consume much of the UK right now. Or maybe I should stop listening to LBC.

Comparing and contrasting this with life in Spain, the fourteenth-largest world economy, is a timely reminder that biggest is rarely best. But as is well known from Disraeli’s dictum,: “There are lies, damed lies and statistics”. So a couple of other data points are needed to evidence the charmed way of life here, particularly in the cities.

A bit of Googling suggests Spaniards produce and earn 13% less than their British counterparts. But the essentials of groceries, energy and beer are 24%, 40% & 45% less respectively. Accommodation costs are 61% to 71% of those of the UK depending on if you buy or rent. I’ve not verified these figures but they feel about right and would explain why the Spanish seem so constantly relaxed. Oh yes, the sun shines quite a bit also.