In the midst of an Arabian Tale
For The Observer
On a promontory outside the Church of San Nicolás, a flamenco guitarist with a long, raven-black perm plays for the tourists. His feet are squashed into tiny Cuban heels, his case open for coppers. It is glaringly hot. In the bright streets of the Albaicin, Granada’s Moorish quarter, the sun reflects from white walls to shimmering cobbles. Straight ahead, rising from a water-rich pedestal of orange trees and myrtle groves, lies the Alhambra …
© John Robertson
© John Robertson
