Enclosed by more than two kilometres of walls reinforced with some thirty towers, it covers approximately thirteen hectares! The Alhambra was more than a palace; it was a complete city on a small scale, with dwellings, administrative offices, garrisons, mosques, baths, schools, stables, cemeteries, and gardens. However, today only the royal palaces remain largely intact. It was built gradually over centuries from the original ninth-century fortress of the Alcazaba; it reached its zenith in the fourteenth century under Yusuf I and Muhammad V, when it gleamed like white light against the terraced gardens of the Generalife. A venerable mosaic of architectural styles layered one on top of the other.

In this guide, I set out to break down the complex in a way that makes sense geographically and historically, so you can understand what you are looking at and why it matters. My goal is to help travellers feel confident navigating the site on their own terms, to explore slowly, revisit favourite corners, linger in the Court of the Lions, or climb the Alcazaba towers without feeling rushed or dependent on an expensive private guide unless you truly want one. The Alhambra is a layered city of memory and dream. This monument continues to feel alive precisely because it was never conceived as a rigid architectural statement, but as a living, evolving world enclosed within its walls, so welcome home to this extraordinary place.

Table Of Contents

1. History of the Granada Alhambra
2. Tales of the Alhambra
3. Practical Information
4. How to get to the Alhambra
5. The Alcazaba
6. Plaza de los Aljibes
7. Nasrid Palace
8. The Court of the Myrtles
9. The Palace of the Lions
10. The Courtyard of the Grille and The Courtyard of Lindaraja
11. The Royal Baths
12. El Partal
13. The Palace of Charles V
14. The Generalife

History of the Granada Alhambra

In 711, Muslim forces from North Africa crossed into the Iberian Peninsula. Within only a few years, they had taken control of nearly the entire territory, apart from a small northern strip. Although Arab leaders commanded the invasion, most of the soldiers were Berbers. Over time, al-Andalus developed into a sophisticated Islamic state with organized cities, courts, taxation, and impressive architecture such as the Great Mosque of Córdoba. For centuries, it was one of the most advanced and culturally vibrant regions in Europe.

By the eleventh century, internal divisions broke the unified caliphate into smaller taifa kingdoms. These rival states flourished culturally but were politically weak, making it easier for Christian armies to push south. North African dynasties, first the Almoravids and later the Almohads, briefly restored Muslim control, but after their defeat at the Battle of Navas de Tolosa in 1212, Islamic rule in Iberia began to shrink rapidly.

Out of this decline emerged the Nasrid Kingdom of Granada in the thirteenth century. Founded by Muhammad I, it stretched across what are now the provinces of Granada, Málaga, and Almería. Rather than confronting the growing Christian kingdoms directly, the Nasrids survived through diplomacy, tribute, and strategic alliances. During the fourteenth century, under Yusuf I and Muhammad V, Granada experienced a final flowering. The Alhambra was transformed into a refined palatine city, with separate areas for defence, administration, and private royal life.

In the fifteenth century, internal conflicts weakened the kingdom. A civil war between Sultan Muley Abul Hassan and his son Boabdil unfolded just as Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile intensified their campaign to conquer Granada. In 1492, the city surrendered, marking the end of Muslim political rule in Iberia.

Under Christian rule, the Alhambra was preserved but altered. Fortifications were reinforced, churches and convents were added, and Charles V later built his Renaissance palace within the complex. What we see today is the result of these layered centuries: a hilltop city shaped by Islamic brilliance, political struggle, and Christian transformation, all woven into the red earth of Granada.

Tales of the Alhambra

Washington Irving was an American writer from New York who spent several months living inside the Alhambra in 1829. At that time, the palace was not the carefully preserved monument we see today, but a romantic ruin inhabited by soldiers, caretakers, and local families. Irving immersed himself in their stories, legends, and traditions, blending what he heard with history and his own imagination. From this experience, he wrote Tales of the Alhambra, a collection of travel reflections, historical sketches, and enchanting legends set within these very walls. His stories speak of Moorish kings, hidden treasures, enchanted soldiers, imprisoned princesses, astrologers, and magical spells. In this guide, I’ve tried to weave in a few of Irving’s stories along the way, so the space comes alive for you in a new and more vivid way.

Practical Information

The palaces, towers, and gardens of the Alhambra are spread across a vast area, so it is wise to set aside at least half a day for your visit, if not a full day to explore it properly.

Your ticket is divided into three main sections: the Alcazaba, the Nasrid Palaces, and the Generalife. Visits to the Alcazaba and the Generalife are flexible, allowing you to explore them at your own pace. However, entry to the Nasrid Palaces is strictly timed, and you must enter within thirty minutes of the time printed on your ticket. You also need to bring a photo ID with you that matches the name on your ticket. They absolutely do check this, so don’t forget!

To truly experience the Alhambra without feeling rushed, allowat least three hours for your visit, though four to five hours is ideal, especially if you plan to explore the Generalife gardens as well. The Generalife was one of my favourite parts of the tour, so definitely try to save your energy for that.

The Alhambra complex is expansive, with uneven stone pathways, staircases, and worn surfaces, so comfortable walking shoes are essential. Bring water, particularly in the warmer months when the Andalusian sun can be intense. Lockers are available on site if you need to store larger belongings, and you are welcome to bring a small packed lunch to enjoy in the free-access areas outside the ticketed sections of the complex.

Inside the ticketed monument areas, particularly within the Nasrid Palaces and Alcazaba, eating is not permitted. However, once you exit those controlled sections, there are shaded areas and benches where you can sit and have a small packed lunch, provided you remain in the designated zones.

Just outside the entrance to the Alcazaba, you will find a small outdoor café called Los Aljibes Bar, which serves light meals, snacks, coffee, and drinks. I was genuinely surprised by the prices here. Given the location, I expected them to be extraordinarily high, but they were actually quite reasonable. If you are looking for a coffee with one of the best views in the city, this is the place to stop. There are also vending machines inside the lockers and the washroom building near the main entrance, which are useful for a quick drink or snack before or after your visit. But if you are looking for a more memorable meal, it is better to eat before or after your visit back down in the city.

It is also worth planning your bathroom breaks carefully. The main restroom facilities are located outside the Nasrid Palaces, near the entrance and main service areas of the complex. There are no bathrooms inside the Nasrid Palaces themselves, and once you enter at your timed slot, you move through the sequence of rooms and courtyards without access to facilities. For that reason, it is strongly recommended to use the bathrooms just before entering the Nasrid Palaces.

Tickets

Purchase tickets well in advance, as this is the most visited city site in Spain! There are so many scam websites online, so please be sure you are buying tickets from their official website. Tickets here (as of 2026) should cost €22.27 for a general ticket that includes timed admission to the Nasrid Palaces and then general entry to the Partal, Alcazaba, and Generalife. You can also buy individual tickets that only give you access to the Gardens, Generalife and Alcazaba, but this misses out on the most impressive Nasrid Palaces.

When selecting your timed entry into the Nasrid Palaces, the best time to visit is early morning when there are fewer crowds. I always try to book a time slot about 30 minutes after opening. In my experience, this is the sweet spot. It is usually just before the large tour buses arrive, which can quickly make the site feel crowded, but it also avoids being first through the gates when entry lines are still forming and staff are just getting everything moving. The very first slot of the day can sometimes feel slightly delayed or congested, so that half-hour buffer often makes for a smoother and calmer start to your visit.

How to get to the Alhambra

Walking to the Alhambra: Reaching the Alhambra on foot is one of the most memorable ways to arrive. Several scenic routes lead uphill through historic neighbourhoods and woodland. The most direct and popular route begins at Plaza Nueva and climbs the Cuesta de Gomérez. You pass through the Gate of the Pomegranates and continue along a shaded woodland path, passing the Charles V Fountain before reaching the Gate of Justice (where we will start our tour). Note you NEED to have pre-purchased tickets to enter through the Gate of Justice.

By Bus or Taxi: From Plaza Isabel la Católica or Plaza Nueva, you can take bus numbers 30 or 32, or the Alhambra-Albaicín minibus number 31. Taxis also depart from Plaza Nueva and typically travel up via the Cuesta de Gomérez. The best place to be dropped off is Puerta de la Justicia or Gate of Justice, where there is a designated bus stop.

The Alcazaba

My advice is to start your tour inside the Alcazaba, as it is the oldest part of the complex. Alcazaba comes from the Arabic word al-qaṣaba (القصبة), which means citadel or fortified enclosure. In Islamic Spain and North Africa, an alcazaba was the military heart of a city, usually positioned on the highest ground and protected by thick defensive walls and towers. Archaeological evidence suggests there was already some form of fortification on the Sabika hill as early as the 9th century, but it was in the 13th century, under Muhammad I, founder of the Nasrid dynasty, that the Alcazaba was reinforced and expanded into the stronghold that became the foundation of the Alhambra.

Gate of Justice or Puerta de la Justicia

To enter the Alcazaba complex, you walk through the great Gate of Justice or Puerta de la Justicia. Built in 1348 during the reign of Yusuf I, this monumental entrance served as the principal ceremonial gateway to the fortress-city. Its massive horseshoe arch rises dramatically from the red stone walls, announcing both power and refinement. Carved into the keystone above the outer arch is the famous open hand, and just inside, above the inner arch, a key, symbols that have inspired centuries of interpretation and legend.

Some say the hand represents the Five Pillars of Islam and the key to the authority of faith. However, Irving wrote that beneath this very gateway, guarded by the carved Hand and Key, an ancient astrologer still sleeps in a hidden chamber. Long ago, he vanished into the mountain with a princess and a book of magic, leaving behind only music that drifts through the stones on warm summer nights. The sentries who stand here sometimes hear it, a silver lyre, soft and distant, and they grow drowsy under its spell. And so the legend says: until the Hand clasps the Key, the enchantment will never be broken.

Passing beneath its shadowed vault, you move through a bent entrance designed for defence, where once guards kept watch, and justice was dispensed beneath its sheltering arch. From here, the path opens into the Plaza de los Aljibes, and the journey into the red castle truly begins. Long before the delicate Nasrid palaces were built, the Alcazaba stood alone on the red hill, the original fortress that would later anchor the entire palatine city of Madinat al-Hamra. Over time, it became known as qa’lat al-hamra, meaning “the red castle,” a name that eventually defined the entire Alhambra.

Plaza de los Aljibes

Stretching between the Gate of Justice and the entrance to the Alcazaba is the Plaza de los Aljibes, or “Cistern Square,” created by filling in a deep gully that once separated this part of the fortress from the rest of the Alhambra. Beneath the plaza lies a vast cistern with impressive vaulted ceilings, constructed shortly after the Christian conquest. Work was already underway in 1494 under the first governor, the Count of Tendilla, from whom the cistern takes its name. From the square, you can enter the Alcazaba (this part of the complex does require a ticket, but you can enter any time).

Arms Square

As you make your way inside, you will pass through the Arms Square, known in Spanish as the Plaza de Armas, below. Archaeological remains indicate that this space once contained modest dwellings, storage areas, and even a small urban structure supporting the garrison stationed in the Alcazaba. It functioned almost like a miniature village within the fortress walls. Cisterns ensured a water supply, and access routes connected the square to the Torre de la Vela and the Torre del Homenaje, reinforcing its strategic importance.

The name “Arms Square” reflects its military purpose. This was where troops assembled, prepared for defence, and controlled access between the lower fortress and the higher towers. From here, defenders could quickly move to the ramparts or respond to threats approaching from the city or valley below.

Today, the open ground seems sparse compared to the elaborate interiors of the palaces. But this simplicity reveals something essential about the origins of the Alhambra. Before it became a masterpiece of Islamic art and architecture, it was a fortress meant to protect the citizens below.

Torre de la Vela

As you continue climbing, you’ll reach the summit of the Alcazaba, the Torre de la Vela, or Watch Tower. Constructed during the reign of Muhammad I in the 13th century, the tower served as the principal lookout point of the citadel. From its summit, guards could scan the Darro valley, the Albaicín, and the wide Vega of Granada stretching toward the Sierra Nevada. Its elevated position made it the strategic eye of the fortress, an essential element in monitoring both approaching threats and activity within the city below.

At the top hangs a large bell, added after the Christian conquest. Traditionally, it was rung to mark important civic and agricultural events, and over time, it became woven into local legend. According to tradition, young unmarried women would strike the bell on January 2, the anniversary of Granada’s surrender, in hopes of finding a husband within the year.

Climbing to the top today offers one of the most breathtaking views in Granada. The city unfolds below in white and terracotta, the Albaicín rising opposite, and beyond it the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevada. From this vantage point, you can also see the Vermilion Towers rising across the ravine, structures even older than the Alhambra itself. Washington Irving tells of a wandering soldier who claimed that Boabdil and his army were not truly gone, but lay enchanted beneath that hill, surrounded by hidden treasure and waiting to reclaim Granada. Arrested for his improbable tale, the soldier was confined in one of the towers, where he passed the time singing ballads from his barred window. Crowds gathered below, amused and skeptical, yet not entirely dismissive. For in Granada, the line between legend and history has always been thin, and many quietly wondered whether the lost kingdom was only sleeping, destined to rise again.

Irving writes about the impoverished but proud families who lived among the ruined towers after the conquest of Granada. He called them the “Sons of the Alhambra.” He describes ragged men fishing for swallows from the battlements with hooks baited with flies, “angling in the sky.”

Jardín de los Adarves

Walking out from the Alcazaba, you walk along the inner defensive walls, through the Jardín de los Adarves or the Garden of the Ramparts. The name “adarves” refers to the wall-walks or battlements that once allowed soldiers to patrol the fortress perimeter. What was once a strictly military passage has been transformed into a tranquil elevated garden, softening the hard geometry of stone with hedges, roses, and shaded pathways. From here, the view opens dramatically toward the Albaicín and the Darro valley below.

From these heights, it is impossible not to think of the final days of Nasrid Granada. In January 1492, the last ruler, Boabdil, surrendered the Alhambra to Ferdinand and Isabella. Tradition says that as he rode away and reached the mountain pass overlooking the city, he turned back for one last glimpse of the red fortress he had lost. Seeing his tears, his mother, Ayxa la Horra, is said to have spoken the words that still echo through Granada: “Weep like a woman for what you could not defend as a man.” Whether legend or truth, the story has endured for centuries, capturing the tragedy of a dynasty’s end and the profound sense of loss bound to these walls.

Wine Gate

Exiting the Alcazaba, walking towards the entrance to the Nasrid Palace, you pass under the Wine Gate. The name comes from the fact that wine has been reportedly sold here tax-free ever since 1554! Although there were other gates nearby, this entrance offered one of the most direct routes into the upper part of the medieval city, where around 2,000 people once lived. The gateway itself features one of the few surviving pointed horseshoe arches in the complex and is marked with the enigmatic carved key symbol also seen elsewhere in the Alhambra.

Nasrid Palace

Make sure to arrive at the entrance to the Nasrid Palaces right at the time indicated on your ticket, as entry is strictly controlled and late arrivals may not be admitted. The traditional entrance to the Nasrid Palaces was through the Mexuar. Perhaps because of this prominent position, it has undergone numerous alterations over the centuries, beginning as early as the Nasrid period itself. These successive reforms have significantly transformed the space, making it challenging today to fully interpret and understand its original layout and function.

After the Christian conquest, the Nasrid palaces became known as the Old Royal House to distinguish them from theRenaissance palace Charles V planned as the new imperial centre. Rather than replacing the Nasrid complex, Charles V’s decision to build alongside it ultimately helped preserve these earlier structures, ensuring their survival for future generations. The Nasrid Palaces were built mainly during the 14th century and are composed of three interconnected sections: the Mexuar, the Comares Palace, and the Palace of the Lions.

El Mexuar

The traditional entrance to the Nasrid Palaces was through the Mexuar, and perhaps because of this prominent position, it has undergone more alterations than almost any other part of the complex. The main hall of the Mexuar is rectangular and likely predates both the Comares Palace and the Palace of the Lions. It was probably begun under Ismail I (r. 1314–1325), then redecorated by Yusuf I (r. 1333–1354) and later modified by Muhammad V (r. 1362–1391). Originally, the hall was illuminated by a central lantern ceiling that allowed light to filter down from above. Today, only the four columns and the entablature remain from that earlier structure.

The name Mexuar comes from the Arabic Maswar. This was the space where the Sura, or council of ministers, gathered to deliberate, and it also functioned as an antechamber where visitors waited before being granted an audience with the sultan. It marked the transition between the public world and the more private royal spaces beyond.

In the 16th century, the entire space was converted into a chapel, and an upper floor was added. A wall once closed off the northern end of the hall, separating it from a courtyard beyond. When this wall was later removed, the newly gained space was used as a choir, marked today by a Renaissance balustrade.

Among the most striking alterations are the Mudejar wooden ceilings and an unusual epigraphic stucco frieze running above the ceramic tile dado. Its inscription reflects Christian liturgical symbolism: “The Kingdom is of God. Power is of God. Glory is of God.”

The four slender marble columns in the hall are typical of Nasrid architecture. Their smooth shafts rise to capitals inspired by Almohad models, composed of a lower cylindrical section and an upper cubic block richly decorated with vegetal and geometric motifs. In the Mexuar, these capitals retain traces of their original polychromy.

Another defining feature is the ceramic tile dado that runs around the room. The glazed tiles form intricate geometric star patterns. Much of this tiling was brought here in the 16th century from the now-vanished southern hall of the Comares Palace. As a result, some of the original Nasrid emblems within the star centres were replaced with the coats of arms of Emperor Charles V or the Mondéjar family, creating an alternating display of authority.

The Mexuar Oratory

At the far end of the Mexuar hall, overlooking the Albaicín, lies a small and intimate oratory, one of several prayer spaces within the Alhambra. Originally, the floor stood higher, roughly at the level of the narrow bench beneath the windows, allowing a worshipper seated cross-legged to rest an arm along the parapet and contemplate both the landscape and the divine presence reflected in nature.

This oratory was among the areas most severely damaged by the explosion of a gunpowder factory in the Darro valley in 1590. Although repairs began soon after, the space was not fully restored until 1917. Much of the current decoration is therefore modern and simplified, and while it helps define the room, it does not fully convey the richness of its Nasrid appearance.

Along the northern wall are four arched windows, three divided by slender marble columns crowned with delicate alabaster capitals. These openings once filtered soft light into the chamber, reinforcing its contemplative atmosphere.

The most significant feature remains the mihrab, the devotional niche that marks the direction of Mecca. True to Islamic tradition, the room is oriented slightly southeast toward Mecca, rather than aligned with the fortress walls outside. Around the mihrab are inscriptions dating to the reign of Muhammad V, including one gentle exhortation to the faithful: “Do not be negligent: come to prayer.”

The Patio del Cuarto Dorado

The courtyard beyond the Mexuar, often called the Patio del Cuarto Dorado, likely once served as an entrance toward the Comares Palace and functioned as a transitional audience space where the sultan received subjects. Over the centuries, it has been heavily altered, particularly in the 16th century, when adjoining rooms were adapted for Charles V and his court, making its original layout difficult to fully reconstruct. And even today, this space is still under heavy restoration work.

The richly carved wooden ceiling of the Cuarto Dorado was redecorated during the reign of the Catholic Monarchs, as indicated by their heraldic emblems, the yoke and the bundle of arrows, incorporated into the design. This space later inspired Mariano Fortuny’s 1871 painting Tribunal in the Alhambra, a work deeply influenced by the Orientalist style of the period and convincingly set within the Patio of the Cuarto Dorado.

At its centre stands a fountain, now a replica, inspired by an earlier basin described in the 16th century as a large, shallow, shell-like form carved from a single block of stone. Along the north side runs a graceful triple-arched arcade adorned with delicate stucco panels, offering an early glimpse of the more elaborate decoration to come in the Comares Palace. The arches rest on some of the oldest capitals in the Alhambra, dating from the 12th or 13th century and predating the typical Nasrid cubic style seen elsewhere.

Golden Room

Behind this arcade lies the Cuarto Dorado, or Golden Room, originally decorated under Muhammad V and later enhanced during the reign of the Catholic Monarchs. Its richly carved and gilded wooden ceiling gives the room its name, while royal emblems such as the yoke and arrows reflect later Christian additions. This space likely housed court officials and secretaries responsible for recording and carrying out the sultan’s decisions.

Above the doors runs an inscription composed by the poet and vizier Ibn Zamrak. The verses celebrate the sultan, comparing the façade to a crown and likening Muhammad V’s arrival to the rising dawn. Tradition holds that the sultan would sit enthroned between these two doors, receiving visitors and administering justice beneath the richly ornamented surface that once shimmered with colour.

The Court of the Myrtles

The Court of the Myrtles is the architectural and symbolic heart of the Comares Palace. In Hispano-Islamic design, the courtyard formed the centre of domestic life, and in royal settings its proportions and ornamentation reflected the status of its inhabitants. The Court of the Myrtles reflects an elevated version of the traditional Andalusi house, expanded in scale and richness but built around the same inward-looking principles.

The courtyard takes its name from the fragrant myrtle hedges that border the long central pool. Once planted lower and likely filled with small trees, the garden has evolved over time. The pool itself is the defining feature. Its still surface reflects the arcades and the soaring white mass of the Comares Tower, softening the strong horizontal lines and creating the illusion that the palace floats upon water. This careful interplay between architecture and reflection heightens the sense of space, light, and quiet grandeur.

This was the ceremonial centre of the palace, where ambassadors were received, and important guests awaited their audience with the sultan. When visitors crossed the threshold, they were met not just by architecture, but by its reflection, a mirror of water that doubled the splendour. The effect recalls the Qur’anic image of paradise as a garden watered by flowing streams. In the Court of the Myrtles, water is not decorative alone. It is symbolic, reflective, and transformative, turning stone into light and grounding royal power in an atmosphere of serenity and illusion.

Standing in the Courtyard of the Myrtles, Washington Irving invites us to imagine a far more intimate and dangerous drama unfolding within these walls, as we look up at the rising tower in front of us. Long before he surrendered Granada, Boabdil was a prince caught in the fierce rivalries of his own family. According to legend, he was imprisoned here by his father in a chamber beneath the Tower of Comares, a pawn in a bitter struggle for power.

It is said that his mother, Ayxa la Horra, resolute and politically astute, orchestrated his escape. Under the cover of darkness, she tied together scarves and garments, lowering her son from a high gallery of the tower down the steep hillside toward the Darro valley below. There, a loyal servant waited with a horse to carry the young prince into the mountains.

At either end of the courtyard stand harmonious porticos of seven arches, the central arch rising slightly higher than the others. Above them spreads delicate sebka plasterwork, while the arches rest on finely carved capitals adorned with mocarabes. Mocárabes, also known as muqarnas, are intricate, honeycomb-like decorative forms found in Islamic architecture. Made from small geometric cells layered in tiers, they often appear to drip like stalactites from ceilings and arches.

Behind the arcades, wooden ceilings with intricate geometric patterns shelter shaded galleries, and small raised alcoves, known as alhamíes, provided places of rest.

Alicatado Tiling

Alicatado tiling, often compared to stone marquetry, takes its name from the alicate, or small pincers, used to trim the tiny ceramic pieces that form its intricate patterns. Each fragment was carefully cut, shaped with pincers and fine chisels, then assembled face down like a puzzle. Once the design was complete, it was fixed with plaster, left to dry, cleaned, and finally installed on the wall. In repeating patterns, some pieces were moulded first, then refined by hand to ensure precise edges and smooth surfaces. While this meticulous craft has largely disappeared in Spain, it continues in Morocco, where artisans have preserved techniques once shared across al-Andalus and North Africa.

The ceramic process began with locally sourced clay, shaped and fired in high-temperature kilns, then finished with mineral-based glazes that produced rich yellows, blues, greens, and metallic tones. Beyond craftsmanship, alicatado reflects a deeper artistic philosophy rooted in repetition, symmetry, and rhythm. Simple geometric forms multiply and interlock, creating patterns that feel both infinite and harmonious. In the Alhambra, these intricate mosaics cover vast surfaces, their mathematical precision inspiring artists for centuries, including M. C. Escher after his visits in the twentieth century.

Sala de la Barca / Hall of the Boat

This chamber serves as the antechamber to the Hall of the Ambassadors in the Comares Palace. Its name, the Hall of the Boat, may refer to the shape of its deep wooden ceiling, which resembles an inverted rowing boat, or possibly to the Arabic word al-baraka, meaning “blessing,” a word frequently repeated in the wall inscriptions. The original ceiling was largely destroyed by fire in 1890 and later reconstructed using historic drawings and surviving fragments. Made of pine and decorated with intricate geometric lazo patterns, it features semi-hemispherical ends filled with star and wheel motifs arranged along a central axis.

The room dates to the early 14th century, as suggested by the muted tones of the ceramic tile dado that runs around its base. Traces of original polychromy remain on the entrance arch, hinting at the once-vivid colour scheme. Marble slabs at the base of the arches were painted in blue and gold and decorated with stylized animal motifs, similar to those seen on Nasrid ceramics.

The entrance arch, partially veiled with a false mocárabes arch, creates dramatic lighting effects. Inscriptions woven into the decoration compare the hall to a radiant throne or bridal dais and praise the Nasrid ruler, elevating him as the sun in a celestial sky. Through poetry, geometry, and light, the room prepares visitors for the grandeur of the throne room beyond.

Hall of the Ambassadors

At 45 metres high, the Comares Tower is the tallest structure in the Alhambra and houses its grandest interior space, the Hall of the Ambassadors, also known as the Throne Room. Inside, nine alcoves open off the square chamber. Eight are symmetrically paired, while the central alcove on the north side, directly opposite the entrance, is more richly decorated and was reserved for the sultan’s throne. From this elevated position, the ruler would receive ambassadors and dispense justice, framed by coloured light filtering through stained-glass windows and by walls shimmering with tile and stucco.

The lower walls are lined with vivid geometric tile mosaics, above which rise elaborate plaster panels combining vegetal motifs, calligraphy, and repeating praises such as “The only conqueror is God” and “Eternity belongs to Allah.” These inscriptions reinforced the political and spiritual authority of the Nasrid ruler.

The most extraordinary feature is the vast wooden ceiling, a masterpiece of Nasrid carpentry. Composed of thousands of interlocking wooden pieces arranged in concentric geometric patterns, it symbolically represents the seven heavens of Islamic cosmology. At its centre, a radiant mocárabes dome evokes paradise itself. Once brilliantly coloured, the ceiling transforms the hall into a cosmic vision, where architecture becomes theology rendered in wood and light.

Much of the carvings and artwork you see all over the Alhambra is called Arabesque. Arabesque is built on rhythmic repetition, but unlike figurative art, it does not draw the eye toward a single image or narrative. Instead, it frees the gaze, much like watching flowing water or wind moving through grass. The effect is not to suggest a story, but to create a state of calm alertness, a quiet vitality.

Growing from stylized vegetal forms and governed by pure geometric rhythm, the Arabesque flows without interruption, balancing fullness and emptiness. In the Alhambra, palm fronds, blossoms, and flame-like motifs intertwine with geometry and calligraphy, symbolizing divine unity expressed through infinite variation.

Islamic culture, calligraphy is the highest artistic form because it gives visual shape to the word of God. For this reason, the calligrapher held a place of great respect in society. Unlike Western art, which often conveys meaning through images, Islamic art expresses sacred ideas through script. The Alhambra has therefore been described as a brilliantly lettered book, its walls covered in verses, praises, and poetic inscriptions. Arabic, the language of the Qur’an, carried sacred status, and its script spread widely across the Islamic world.

The Palace of the Lions

Built between 1362 and 1391 under Muhammad V, the Palace of the Lions represents the artistic height of the Nasrid dynasty. Unlike the more formal Comares Palace, this complex is organized around a cruciform courtyard centred on a fountain, symbolizing the four rivers of paradise described in both Islamic and Christian tradition. It has been described as a riyad, a garden-palace, where architecture and nature merge into a single vision.

Two delicate pavilions project along the main east–west axis, their slender columns and arches draped with mocárabes like lace. The courtyard itself was likely once planted lower than the walkways, forming a living carpet of flowers and aromatic shrubs beneath a forest of marble columns. Rather than a house with a garden, this is a garden that contains a house.

At its centre stands the famous Fountain of the Lions, carved in white marble and originally richly painted and gilded. Twelve lions support a polygonal basin encircled by a poem by Ibn Zamrak, praising both the beauty of the fountain and the generosity of the ruler.

The fountains once murmured secrets of vanished sultans. Irving says in this book that beneath the marble and flowing water lie hidden treasures protected by spells, riches guarded not by soldiers, but by time itself. At midnight, when the palace falls silent, the lions seem almost ready to move again, keeping watch as they have for centuries.

The flowing water, engineered with remarkable precision, maintains a constant level while appearing effortless. The design has been linked to ancient symbolic traditions, including the image of the lion as a solar force and the basin as a cosmic sea, though how consciously these meanings were understood remains uncertain.

The Hall of the Abencerrajes

The Hall of the Abencerrajes is located directly off the Court of the Lions, along one of its main axes. In this very hall, Washington Irving recounts one of the Alhambra’s most dramatic legends. The noble Abencerrage family, powerful courtiers of Granada, were said to have been summoned here by a jealous sultan who believed one of them had betrayed him in a forbidden romance with the queen.

One by one, the knights were allegedly executed beside the marble basin. Even today, guides point to the faint reddish stains in the stone and whisper that they are the marks of that ancient blood. The story, popularised by nineteenth-century romantic writers and painters such as Mariano Fortuny, is not historically certain, and the dark stains in the marble, which are said to have been the blood spilled, are more than likely simply natural oxidation…But the myth is always more interesting than the science.

Its most remarkable feature is the spectacular mocárabe dome, forming an eight-pointed star that seems to rotate above the square room. Light filters through star-shaped openings in the cupola, creating a cool, shaded atmosphere enhanced by thick walls and flowing water. In summer, the space remains naturally temperate, functioning almost like a marble cave within the palace.

Sala de los Reyes / Hall of the Kings

Stretching along the entire eastern side of the courtyard, the Hall of the Kings was the ceremonial and leisure heart of the Palace of the Lions. It is arranged as a long gallery divided into a series of interconnected spaces. The hall is organized into three main square chambers that open toward the courtyard portico, separated by transitional bays that create a rhythmic alternation of light and shadow. Above the principal chambers rise lantern cupolas, allowing filtered light to enter and enhancing the sense of height and airiness typical of Nasrid design.

Its name comes from the painted wooden vault in the central alcove, which depicts a group of seated figures often interpreted as kings or courtly notables. The two neighbouring vaults show lively scenes of knights, hunting, and courtly romance. Unusual in Islamic art, these figurative paintings were likely created by artists influenced by late medieval European styles, possibly from northern Italy.

Hall of the Two Sisters

The last room to visit in this part of the complex, located on the north side of the Court of the Lions, is the Hall of the Two Sisters. Its name traditionally refers to the two large marble slabs set beside the central fountain, though some scholars suggest the “two sisters” may symbolically echo a Qur’anic verse.

The hall is one of the finest spaces in the Alhambra. Its lower walls are lined with intricate alicatado tilework formed from interlacing geometric ribbons, among the most original designs in the palace. Above this rises elaborate stucco decoration, culminating in the extraordinary cupola of mocárabes. From a central star, thousands of tiny plaster prisms cascade downward, creating a luminous, honeycomb vault that seems almost weightless.

Mirador de Lindaraja

Inside the Hall of the Two Sisters, along its central axis, is the Mirador de Lindaraja, a small square lookout chamber designed for contemplation and view. Its name likely derives from the Arabic ‘ayn dar Aixa, meaning “the eyes of Aixa’s house,” referring to the sweeping views it once offered over the Albaicín and countryside before later Christian alterations enclosed the garden below.

Inside, the space represents one of the most refined expressions of Nasrid proportion and decoration. A blind arch of mocarabes frames richly coloured stucco, largely epigraphic, surrounding a delicate mullioned window set low so one could sit on the floor and gaze outward. The mosaic tiling here is exceptionally fine, composed of unusually small pieces with a luminous metallic sheen. Above, a stained glass lantern ceiling filters soft coloured light into the chamber, enhancing its intimate, jewel-like quality.

The Courtyard of the Grille and The Courtyard of Lindaraja

Leaving the luminous intimacy of the Mirador of Lindaraja, we descent down into the Courtyard of the Grille (Patio de la Reja) and the Courtyard of Lindaraja (Patio de Lindaraja). These two courtyards were created in 1526 when alterations were carried out to prepare accommodation for King Charles I during his state visit to Granada.

The Courtyard of the Grille takes its name from the large wrought iron balcony grille added in the seventeenth century to protect the rooms behind it. Before Christian additions enclosed and reshaped the area, the private rooms of the harem were far more exposed to outside view.

The Courtyard of Lindaraja (Patio de Lindaraja) is one of the most intimate and tranquil spaces within the palace complex, enclosed on all four sides and sheltered from the wider views that once extended toward the Albaicín. Unlike the grand, ceremonial character of the Court of the Myrtles or the symbolic geometry of the Court of the Lions, Lindaraja feels inward, private, and contemplative.

At its centre stands a circular marble fountain set within a formal garden. On the north side rises the Mirador de Lindaraja, whose low windows once allowed seated occupants to look out across gardens and countryside. The name “Lindaraja” is thought to derive from the Arabic ‘ayn dar Aixa’, meaning “the eyes of the house of Aixa,” possibly referring to a Nasrid princess.

The Royal Baths

Accessed from the gallery between the Patio de la Reja and the Patio de Lindaraja, the lower entrance to the Comares Bath is equivalent to the Roman apodyterium or changing room. Here, bathers would rest, undress, and prepare before entering the heated chambers. The space is lit from above by a lantern roof, while the bright wall colours seen date from a nineteenth-century restoration rather than the Nasrid period.

Beyond lie the steam rooms, distinguished by their vaulted ceilings pierced with star-shaped skylights. These small openings, once fitted with glass covers, allowed light to filter in while regulating steam and ventilation. Beneath the marble floors ran a sophisticated heating system of pipes carrying hot air and steam from the furnaces. The largest chambers were the hottest, and bathers would have worn special wooden footwear to protect their feet from the heated floors.

El Partal

El Partal is the garden area that stretches beyond the Patio de Lindaraja, arranged in terraces that follow the slope above the Darro River. Although the landscaped gardens seen today largely date from the early twentieth century, they incorporate important archaeological remains from one of the earliest Nasrid palace zones, likely begun under Muhammad III in the early fourteenth century.

The most significant surviving structure is the Palace of the Portico, also known as the Torre de las Damas. Its layout anticipates later palaces such as Comares: a rectangular reflecting pool faces a five-arched portico, behind which lies the principal hall within the tower.

Beside the palace stands a small oratory from the time of Yusuf I, oriented toward Mecca and modest in scale yet finely decorated.

From this point, you can admire the various stone towers that surround the outskirts of the place. Irving said that on quiet nights, a princess once leaned from one of these towers, gazing toward distant mountains. She was surrounded by silk and jewels, yet longed only for freedom. The moonlight caught her tears as she whispered into the darkness, hoping her voice might travel beyond the walls. In the Alhambra, even beauty can feel like a prison.

The gardens around El Partal offer a quieter, more intimate atmosphere than the grand palace courtyards, unfolding across stepped terraces that follow the natural slope of the hill. Roses, particularly fragrant heritage varieties in shades of deep red, blush pink, ivory, and apricot, grow alongside pergolas and stone walls, blending naturally into the landscape rather than forming rigid formal beds.

Myrtle hedges, lavender, rosemary, jasmine, orange trees, and tall cypresses add layers of scent and texture, filling the warm air with citrus blossom and herbs.

Terraced gardens now lead visitors toward the Towers Walk and the Generalife, or back toward the Palace of Charles V and the Alcazaba.

The Palace of Charles V

As you exit the Nasrid Palace, follow the signs towards the Charles V Palace if you want to continue with this tour. The Palace of Charles V stands in striking contrast to the surrounding Nasrid architecture. Designed in 1526, likely by Pedro Machuca after Italian Renaissance models, its plan, a circle inscribed within a square, symbolizes the union of heaven and earth. Construction was largely funded by taxes on the Moriscos, and work halted after their rebellion in 1568, leaving the building incomplete for centuries. Restoration resumed in the 20th century. Despite early criticism for disrupting the Islamic setting, the palace ultimately ensured the preservation of the Alhambra as part of Spain’s royal heritage rather than allowing it to fall into ruin.

The western “Emperor’s” façade is conceived in a severe and monumental Doric order, projecting strength, authority, and military power. The lower level is rusticated with heavy stone blocks that give the structure a fortified appearance, while engaged Doric columns frame the central triumphal portal. Above and around the entrance runs a sculpted frieze depicting scenes of imperial victories, including references to Charles V’s military triumphs such as the Battle of Pavia. In contrast, the southern “Empress’s” façade adopts the lighter and more elegant Ionic order. Here, the decoration softens in tone and symbolism. Slender Ionic pilasters rise above rusticated bases, and the sculptural programme shifts from military triumph to allegory and mythology. Figures representing Victory, Fame, and Abundance appear alongside classical motifs, celebrating prosperity, fertility, and dynastic continuity.

Notable features include the elegant circular courtyard with its vaulted gallery, one of the most striking elements of the palace. At the centre of the square exterior rises a perfectly proportioned round patio, surrounded by a two-storey colonnade. The lower level is formed by a ring of robust Doric columns supporting a continuous stone entablature and a deep vaulted ambulatory, creating a powerful sense of solidity and rhythm. Above, a lighter Ionic colonnade introduces refinement and vertical grace, balancing the heaviness below.

The Generalife

From the Palace of Charles V, we are heading to our final destination, the Generalife. You can make your way there by following the route, which continues along the scenic Paseo de las Torres (Towers Walk), a shaded path beside the fortress walls with expansive views over the Albaicín and Sacromonte. Gradually ascending, the walkway leads to the Generalife entrance after about ten to fifteen minutes. You need a ticket to enter the Generalife (included in your general admission), but there is no timed entry.

As you enter you walk through what seems like an unending wall of Cypress trees. Cypress trees have long been linked with cemeteries, especially since the Romantic era, largely because their roots grow straight downward rather than spreading and disturbing graves. For similar practical reasons, Muslim architects frequently planted cypresses: their deep roots seek water below ground, and when set close together, they create a tall, dense evergreen screen.

The Lower Gardens

The lower gardens that you can visit today were laid out between 1931 and 1951 under the direction of architect Francisco Prieto Moreno. Although they do not exactly reproduce the medieval design, they restored dignity and beauty to an area that had fallen into serious neglect.

Originally, the Generalife functioned as an almunia, a royal country estate that was meant to feel like an outdoor living room. It included residential buildings surrounded by extensive cultivated land divided into four large terraced plots of orchards and vegetable gardens, retained by substantial walls. The name “Generalife” has been interpreted in various ways over time, but it is most commonly understood today as deriving from Jardines del Alarife, “Gardens of the Architect.”

In the 20th century, the area between the Alhambra and the Generalife palace was redesigned as a public park. These “New Gardens,” created in stages between 1931 and 1952, include rose arcades, cypress-lined paths, a cruciform water channel inspired by Islamic garden design, scenic pergolas overlooking the Alhambra, and an open-air amphitheatre built for Granada’s annual Festival of Music and Dance.

The pathways in the Lower Gardens are paved in the traditional Granadan manner, using a mosaic of small pebbles, white stones gathered from the River Darro and black ones from the River Genil. This distinctive style of paving can still be seen today in courtyards and public squares across the city. At the centre, the cross-shaped pools reflect a classic feature of Islamic garden design, symbolizing harmony and the ordered flow of water.

Box hedges were planted to define the garden structure, while climbing roses, vines, and oleander are trained over pillars and pergolas along the upper walk. Elsewhere, a wide variety of trees, including orange, plum, medlar, and magnolia, are interspersed among abundant shrubs and flowering plants, creating a garden that today contains around 160 different species.

One of Irving’s most enchanting tales tells of a young prince who was educated in every art and science, yet kept deliberately ignorant of love. Sheltered within palace walls and perfumed gardens, he wandered among fountains and birdsong, believing himself master of all knowledge. But the secret he was denied lingered in the air around him. It was the birds who finally revealed it. “Love,” they sang, “is the happiness of two, and the sorrow of one.” From that moment, the gardens changed. Their beauty no longer felt innocent; it pulsed with promise, risk, and the quiet danger of awakening desire.

Spanish Water Garden

The Water Garden of the Generalife, though the oldest surviving palace area and much altered over time, best preserves the spirit of the medieval Andalusi garden. Originally conceived as a long, rectangular courtyard with a central reflecting pool, its design relied on still water to mirror the surrounding façades. Water once entered gently from fountains at either end, creating a soft murmur intended to encourage calm and contemplation. Later additions, particularly from the 18th and 19th centuries, introduced jets and splashing effects that disrupted this quiet reflective surface, replacing subtle sound with decorative display.

In its first form, the courtyard followed the tradition of the “closed paradise”: inward-looking, enclosed by high walls, and visible to the outside only through a small mirador. During Christian rule, the western wall was lowered and opened into an arcaded gallery, transforming the intimate Nasrid garden into a belvedere overlooking the landscape.

Archaeological studies show that the original 14th-century layout differed from what we see today, with later Nasrid and Christian modifications altering the pavilions and courtyard proportions. At the north end stands a porticoed pavilion with three arches and richly carved decoration, dated by inscription to 1319 under Sultan Ismail I. This space likely functioned as a royal reception room, ending in a slightly angled mirador designed to capture cooling breezes, an example of the Nasrids’ sophisticated understanding of orientation, airflow, and microclimate.

The Water Stairway

Running through the patio is the Acequia Real (Royal Water Channel), the main artery of the Generalife’s hydraulic system. The courtyard was once more enclosed and intimate, with porticoes on the short sides and residential rooms along one flank. Later alterations opened it to exterior views, changing its original character but enhancing its scenic appeal.

At the head of the courtyard lies the Sala Regia (Royal Hall), fronted by a five-arched gallery framing a triple-arched entrance. Its stucco decoration, muqarnas capitals, and wooden ceiling reflect classic Nasrid design. In 1494, the Catholic Monarchs added an upper gallery, altering the original silhouette. Nearby, the Tower of Ismail I, built after the Nasrid victory at the Battle of the Vega (1319), adds a ceremonial and commemorative dimension. Its interior offers one of the finest views over the Alhambra, Granada, and the Albaicín, while inscriptions celebrate the sultan and the triumph of Islam.

The views from the Alhambra make clear why its founders chose this hillside for their palaces, only water was needed to complete the vision. When Ibn al-Ahmar began constructing the palatine city, his first priority was the creation of the Royal Waterway, an ingenious channel that diverted water from the River Darro about six kilometres upstream and carried it to the Alhambra.

As later palaces such as Dar al-Arusa and the Alixares were built at higher elevations, new systems were devised to raise and store water. These included sluices along the Royal Waterway at the hill’s highest points, rainwater cisterns, and additional irrigation channels, though little of these later works survives today.

As we leave these palaces, gardens, and towers behind, what remains is not only the memory of exquisite decoration or masterful engineering but a deeper understanding of a civilization that shaped space with intention and meaning. The Alhambra and Generalife are not monuments in isolation; they are landscapes of water, light, poetry, and power, carefully composed to balance intimacy with grandeur, earth with heaven, silence with sound. Across centuries of transformation, conquest, and restoration, their essence endures: an architecture that turns inward yet opens the imagination outward. To walk here is to move through layers of history, but also through a vision of harmony that still feels astonishingly alive.

Happy Travels, Adventurers

The post The Ultimate Self-Guided Tour of the Alhambra in Granada first appeared on The Creative Adventurer.

Just steps from the centre of town, shaded under the shadow of the Alpilles, hides the old asylum of Saint-Paul de Mausole. It was here, in 1899, that would-be famed artist Vincent Van Gogh came to seek treatment and refuge for the madness that plagued his creative mind. This self-guided tour unravels the layers of Van Gogh’s creative spirit. With each brushstroke, each captivating corner, and each soul-stirring story, you gain a deeper appreciation for the enduring impact of his work on art history and the human experience.

During his stay in Saint-Remy and Saint-Paul de Mausole, Van Gogh produced 150 paintings and over 100 drawings. Many paintings he completed here, like Starry Night, are considered his magnum opus. And while his stay at the asylum was mixed with light and dark moments, there is no doubt that his art continued to flourish here in Provence. So, set foot in the footsteps of this iconic artist, embrace the beauty and darkness that shaped him, and immerse yourself in his enchanting landscapes here in Saint-Remy.

Table Of Contents

1. About Saint-Rémy-de-Provence Van Gogh Walking Tour
2. The Life of Vincent Van Gogh
3. Start Your Walking Tour: Place Jules Pelissier
4. Walking the Van Gogh Art Route
5. Van Gogh's Cypress Trees
6. Van Gogh's Olive Grove
7. Saint-Paul de Mausole, Van Gogh's Asylum
8. Exploring the Gardens
9. The Cloisters
10. Outer Courtyard
11. Van Gogh's Bedroom
12. The Starry Night
13. Van Gogh's Diagnosis
14. The Death of Vincent Van Gogh
15. A Meadow in the Mountains
16. Les Antiques

About Saint-Rémy-de-Provence Van Gogh Walking Tour

This guided walking tour will lead you from the centre of Saint-Remy, along the Route de Van Gogh, and through the Monastery Saint-Paul de Mausole. After exploring the asylum, we will make a short stop outside the Roman ruins, ‘Les Antiques,’ that lie on the outskirts of Saint-Remy. Inside the asylum and the surrounding countryside, we will discover the places that shaped his creativity and immerse ourselves in the beauty that captivated him. Leave yourself at least a half-day to explore the city, take things at your own pace and dive into hidden corners you discover for yourself. If you want to make a whole day out, consider visiting the Roman city of Glanum and treat yourself to a wonderful dinner in town.

History of Saint Remy

Saint-Rémy-de-Provence is located in the Alpilles region. The name “Alpilles” is derived from the Latin word “alpilulae,” meaning “small Alps,” due to its resemblance to the larger Alps mountain range.

Despite being in the middle of France, the area has some of Europe’s most well-preserved Roman ruins. During the 2nd century BC, the Romans established a settlement near Saint-Rémy, known as Glanum. This important Roman city flourished for centuries and boasted some of the most impressive architecture, including huge temples, a large forum, a theatre, and lavish houses. 

Following the decline of the Roman Empire, Saint-Rémy entered a period of relative obscurity. The town underwent a series of transformations and changed hands multiple times between feudal lords. In the 9th century, a Benedictine monastery was established in the town, and its influence grew over time.

Over the years, the town became a center of artistic activity, attracting writers, painters, and great thinkers. In the 16th century, French astrologer and physician Nostradamus wrote his book “Les Prophéties,” which contains cryptic prophecies about future events. Nostradamus was born in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in 1503 and spent time studying medicine and astrology in the region. But no one person left a more indelible mark on the city than Vincent Van Gogh.

The Life of Vincent Van Gogh

Vincent van Gogh was born on March 30, 1853, in Groot-Zundert, Netherlands. Van Gogh was born into a deeply religious family. His father, Theodorus van Gogh, was a Protestant minister. But it was on his mother’s side where the artistic part of his mind came was born. His mother, Anna Carbentus, came from a family of bookbinders and art dealers. At the age of 16, Vincent began working for his uncle’s art dealership, which sparked his interest in art and the world of visual expression. But despite this, his early career path remained focused on the ministry. He attended a theology school in Amsterdam in 1877, intending to become a pastor like his father and grandfather.

Vincent’s Religious Upbringing

However, Vincent’s time as a pastor was short-lived and ultimately unsuccessful. His deeply empathetic and passionate nature often clashed with church practice’s more rigid and formal aspects. He also faced personal challenges and mental health issues, leading to his dismissal as a pastor after a brief stint in a rural congregation in Belgium. When he returned home, his father wanted to send Vincent to a lunatic asylum.

Vincent’s Mental Health Struggles Begin

Throughout his life, Van Gogh faced numerous mental health challenges that affected his ability to maintain stability and find contentment. He experienced periods of intense anxiety, depression, and emotional turmoil. These mental health struggles manifested in episodes of erratic behaviour and led to strained relationships with family, friends, and even fellow artists. But one relationship remained stronger than all the others, and this was with his brother Theo. Theo has seen a few of Vincent’s charcoal drawings he has been making while in Belgium. They were studies of the people and scenes around him. Theo immediately saw what others did not, and it was at his insistence and aid that Vincent was spared the madhouse and instead began his study and pursuit of a career in the arts.

Vincent & Theo

Theo van Gogh played a crucial role in Vincent’s personal and professional life. He was six years younger than Vincent, and while Vincent worked as a preacher, Theo embarked on a career as an art dealer. With an eye for talented artists, Theo was able to recognize Vincent’s talent immediately. He began supporting Vincent both emotionally and financially. And would continue to do so until the end of his life. Theo believed in Vincent’s artistic potential when few others did. And if it were not for Theo’s financial assistance and encouragement throughout his career, there is no doubt in my mind that Vincent would never have become one of the most famous artists of the 19th and 20th centuries.

The written correspondence between Vincent and Theo forms a rich tapestry of their relationship. They exchanged hundreds of letters, offering insights into their thoughts, struggles, and artistic aspirations. The letters reveal Vincent’s emotional vulnerability, challenges, and unwavering commitment to art. Theo, in turn, provided continuous emotional support, advice, and feedback on Vincent’s work. They were more than brothers, more than family, they were truly each other’s soulmates.

Van Gogh in Provence

In 1888, Van Gogh moved to Arles in southern France to seek inspiration and refuge. Here, he produced some of his most iconic works, including The Sunflowers and Café Terrace at Night. However, his time in Arles was also marked by increased mental instability, leading to conflicts with others, including his friend and fellow artist Paul Gauguin. Following a heated argument with Gauguin, Van Gogh infamously severed a portion of his earlobe. He was sent to the local hospital after being found in a pool of blood inside his apartment.

Even after returning to his home from the hospital, Vincent confided in his brother that he was still suffering from hallucinations and delusions of poisoning. On the insistence of both his brothers and physician Félix Rey, Vincent voluntarily admitted himself to the asylum of Saint-Paul de Mausole in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in May 1889.

Start Your Walking Tour: Place Jules Pelissier

We now begin our walk. In the centre of Saint-Remy, Vincent would have arrived to make his way to Saint-Paul-de-Mausole asylum. Standing in the Place Jules Pelissier, the town’s central square, take a moment to soak in the atmosphere. Look around and admire the historic buildings surrounding you. On the west side of the square, look up and see the towering spire of the Saint-Martin Collegiate Church. This spire was one of the few things Van Gogh could see from his bedroom in the asylum. And it is one of the most iconic elements of his renowned painting, The Starry Night.

One can imagine how lonely Van Gogh must have felt. He would have been so close to the centre of town, and yet he was confined to the grounds of an asylum. On any day of the week, this square is filled with people having lively conversations outside on the terraces. He probably could have heard the noise from the square travel across the fields into the window sill where he painted. Van Gogh loved going out during his time in Arles. And he must have longed for those long nights outside the cafes. 

Walking the Van Gogh Art Route

As you turn south down Rue de la Commune, you are approaching the start of the Van Gogh Route. This is a self-guided walk towards the Monastery of Saint-Paul de Mausole. Along the way, there are 19 signs reproducing Van Gogh’s most emblematic paintings. A short quote from one of Van Gogh’s letters accompanies each image. And while I think trying to contextualize these paintings is so important, much remains to be discovered and discussed. So I hope this article is a great accompaniment. The walk is marked by these small golden emblems on the ground that bare Van Gogh’s iconic signature.

Place Mireille

Standing at the apex of the Place Mireille, you can look down the roads to put yourself at the very spot where Van Gogh painted a scene entitled The Road Menders. In this artwork, Van Gogh captures several figures engaged in manual labour, working along this very road. A road which now bears his name in his honour.

The Road Menders

In his paintings, Van Gogh often depicted scenes of everyday life and the toils of the working class. In The Road Mender, he highlights the dignity and significance of ordinary people and their contributions to society. Compared to Van Gogh’s paintings in Arles, you can see how the colours in this palette are much more muted. Although the brushwork still conveys that classical Van Gogh-ian sense of energy and emotion, the piece has a tone of sadness. Like he is looking into the lives of these everyday Provencal men and women but cannot connect with them, simply paint them from afar.

Canal des Alpines

Continuing along, we can see a large cypress tree on the right side of the road as we cross the Canal Des Alpines. This is just one of many Cypress trees found all over Saint-Remy, which deeply inspired Van Gogh’s oeuvre. 

Van Gogh’s Cypress Trees

Cypress trees hold significant importance and symbolism in the works of Vincent van Gogh. And he painted an entire series dedicated to them during his stay in Saint-Remy. Cypress trees have long been associated with notions of immortality and eternity. The tall and slender form of the cypress tree, reaching upward into the sky, is reminiscent of a natural cathedral spire. Van Gogh often used the cypress tree to symbolize the divine and the connection between the earthly and the spiritual realms. As if the tree, just like himself, were trying to reach out, away from the pains of this mortal realm, into eternal and transcendental peace.

While at the asylum of Saint-Paul de Mausole, he could look out his window every day to gaze upon the cypress trees spread out across the Provencal countryside. When he was allowed to leave the ground and paint en-plein air, these were some of the closest fields where he could come to study and sketch the cypress trees. So this very tree might have been one of the many that Van Gogh painted.

Almond Blossoms

Just past the canal crossing, on the right side of the road, we can see far-reaching fields of almond trees. These iconic trees were etched into the history book in Vicent van Gogh’s painting Almond Blossoms. Van Gogh painted Almond Blossoms as a gift for his brother Theo upon the arrival of his firstborn son. Although Vincent was no doubt worried about how the little child would impact Theo’s ability to support Vincent financially, the love he had for his brother was immense. And therefore, for his new nephew as well.

“I started right away to make a picture for him, to hang in their bedroom, branches of white almond blossom against a blue sky.”

Vincent

He wanted to create a painting that was intended to commemorate the joy and hope associated with the arrival of a new life into the family. Almond blossoms begin to bud at the beginning of Spring. And therefore, they have long been associated with hope and rebirth. Van Gogh’s use of this floral motif suggests a sense of renewal and new beginnings. Perhaps a hope for a renewal in himself as well as for the new baby for Theo.

The delicate blossoms against the vibrant blue sky can be seen as a reflection of Van Gogh’s longing for peace, serenity, and emotional harmony. The upward-reaching branches and the ethereal quality of the blossoms evoke a sense of spirituality. As if these blooms are not placed within our mortal realm but instead up in the heavens.

Influence of Japanese Art

Van Gogh was greatly influenced by Japanese art, particularly ukiyo-e prints. He admired Japanese woodblock prints’ stylized and decorative qualities. Their flattened perspective and stark, bold outlines. In Almond Blossom, Van Gogh employed bold, dark outlines around the blossoms and branches, reminiscent of the black outlines found in Japanese woodblock prints. The bright blue sky against the delicate white blossoms also creates a striking visual effect.

The Colors of Provence

Continuing along Avenue Vincent Van Gogh, take a moment to look around you as you walk, to soak up all the colours of Provence. Van Gogh’s artistic style underwent a significant transformation during his time in Provence and in Saint-Remy. The vivid landscapes and unique light of the area greatly influenced him. As you walk, see what you can find that is reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Provencal colour palette, characterized by bold, deep, and intense colours. You might spot vibrantly painted window shutters and rainbows of flowers blooming along the road. The radiant yellows of the sunflowers and wheat fields dominated the Provençal countryside. And, of course, the bright blue skies above you.

Van Gogh’s Olive Grove

Turn left down Avenue Dr. Edgar Leroy towards Saint-Paul de Mausole. Although this route takes us away from the main road, this detour provides beautiful views across the Alpilles Valley. Further away from houses, you can see far out across the landscape of Provence. 

Along the road, we pass a series of olive groves, which were the subject of dozens of variations painted by Van Gogh. I think Olive Trees are one of his best series. Exemplified in these paintings is his emblematic expressive brushwork. The textural strokes capture the energy and movement of the foliage and the terrain. As if we can feel the breeze through the trees in the painting itself. But walking along this road, try to close your eyes and feel for yourself that movement in the wind that Van Gogh captures, like magic in a bottle.

Olive trees are also frequently associated with the idea of peace. In Roman times, athletes and emperors were awarded olive wreaths as a symbol of peace and honour. And in Christian art, the dove carrying an olive branch is often depicted as a symbol of peace, representing the reconciliation between God and humanity after the Great Flood. Van Gogh’s obsession with these trees was not just because they were what was available for him to paint. But due to his deep desire for tranquillity in his mind.

Saint-Paul de Mausole, Van Gogh’s Asylum

A short walk from the Avenue Dr. Edgar Leroy, make the first right to walk along the thick outer stone walls of the Saint-Paul de Mausole. Take note of how high and imposing these walls are. Ensuring all those inside cannot get out or even see the countryside around them. And although Vincent was given special permission to occasionally venture outside these walls, for the most part, he spent the last months of his life only within the confines of the asylum.

Hours and Admission

Hours: Open seven days a week, from 9:30 a.m. to 7 p.m. in the summer, with earlier closings in the winter. Admission: Adults 7€ | Student, Teens (12-16) and Seniors 5€ | Children under 12 are free

History of Saint-Paul de Mausole

In the 11th century, a Romanesque monastery was built on this site. The name “Mausole” is derived from the Latin word “mausoleum.” It was given this name as its location was a mere few meters from the ancient Roman mausoleum, just outside the ruins of Glanum. The monastery flourished for several centuries, serving as a religious center for monks and pilgrims.

In the 19th century, the monastery underwent a significant transformation. In 1815, the religious order left, and the building was repurposed as a psychiatric institution. It became an asylum known as the “Asile de Saint-Paul,” catering to individuals with severe mental health conditions. The tranquil surroundings and therapeutic environment sought to offer patients a place of refuge and treatment. But treatment for mental health conditions in the 19th century left much to be desired. And for many, treatments were little more than a restrictive diet and twice daily baths.

Van Gogh in Saint-Paul de Mausole

Although Vincent voluntarily admitted himself into the hospital, his stay there relied heavily on his brother Theo’s assistance. Vincent received not one but two private rooms. One of which Vincent could use as his studio. A luxury no other patients were given.

When he first arrived, he was hopeful and spoke positively about his experience. “I feel happier here with my work than I could be outside. By staying here a long time, I shall have learned regular habits, and in the long run, the result will be more order in my life.” Much of this early progress was made simply due to the fact that the doctors here at Saint-Remy forced Van Gogh to stop many of his harmful vices. Van Gogh was not only an alcoholic, but his eating habits and overconsumption of coffee all negatively impacted his mental health conditions.

Exploring the Gardens

When Vincent was first admitted, he couldn’t leave the ground until the doctors and nurses deemed him fit enough to do so. During these first few months, Van Gogh painted only what he found within the gardens surrounding the Monastery. He looked closely at everything around him, finding peace in those quiet little moments and vignettes that proliferated the gardens.

Entering through the front gates, you step into the asylum’s tranquil gardens, left almost exactly as they would have been when Van Gogh stayed here. Lining the outer walls of the asylum are beautiful garden beds. Vines crawl up the stone walls to disguise their prison-like intentions. Van Gogh vividly describes the gardens for us in a letter to Theo;

A view of the garden of the asylum where I am, on the right a gray terrace, a section the house, some rosebushes that have lost their flowers; on the left, the earth of the garden – red ochre – earth burnt by the sun, covered in fallen pine twigs. This edge of the garden is planted with large pines with red ochre trunks and branches, with green foliage saddened by a mixture of black. These tall trees stand out against an evening sky streaked with violet against a yellow background. High up, the yellow turns to pink, turns to green. Under the trees, empty stone benches, dark box. The sky is reflected yellow in a puddle after the rain.

Vincent Van Gogh

Irises

The very first painting that Van Gogh endeavoured to paint was that of the garden’s irises. Van Gogh captures these flowers in different stages of their blooms. Some almost appear to be falling to the ground under the weight of their petals. This painting was one of Van Gogh’s studies, meaning he painted it directly from life without sketching it first. There was some calm he found in these intricate studies. Like he was immersing himself into the world of the painting, leaving his darkened world behind him.

Lilacs

A stark contrast to his almost realistic portrayal of the Irises is Van Gogh’s painting of the Lilacs. You can even see the purple irises in the background of the painting, but their forms are almost abstract. Nothing more than a few swashes of painting. Through Lilacs, we can see Van Gogh’s absolute dynamism in his vivid energy and dramatic expression he communicates to us through his brushstrokes. He pushes the boundaries of impressionism and creates his own post-impressionist style.

When you receive the canvases that I have done in the garden, you will see that I am not too melancholy here.

Vincent Van Gogh

Corner of Saint-Paul Hospital

While Van Gogh was trying to let give his brother hope that his stay here at the asylum was helping him rid himself of the sadness he felt in Arles, there was no doubt that this place still felt like a prison. He felt trapped inside, literally and figuratively both inside the walls of the asylum and inside the prison of his troubled mind.

“You’ll understand that this combination of red ochre, of green saddened with grey, of black lines that define the outlines, this gives rise a little to the feeling of anxiety from which some of my companions in misfortune often suffer, and which is called ‘seeing red’.”

Vincent Van Gogh

Romanesque Chapel

The entrance to the old Romanesque stone chapel is beside the entrance to the asylum. The chapel is as silent as silence can be. The huge stone arches frame the cold stone walls in the darkness. The only light being emitted from the stained glass windows and the entry door. Modern-day lighting has been added to the ceiling to give the visitor a better view of the 11th-century architecture. Van Gogh would have been encouraged, perhaps even forced, to come here for prayer, as this was still thought to be a method of curing their mental illnesses. 

But for Vincent, his relationship with religion was complex. And it continued to evolve throughout his life. Although he was raised in a religious family, his failure to become a pastor and his disillusionment with the church as an institution deeply wounded him. While Van Gogh distanced himself from traditional religious institutions, he continued to engage with religious themes in his art. 

The Pietà

But during Vincent’s time at the asylum, especially when he could not even go outside after his episodes, he found solace and inspiration in biblical stories. And he developed a more personal and reflective view of his spirituality. During moments of despair and loneliness, he believed his art was a spiritual expression and a means to connect with a higher power. When he could not make art of his own, he began making copies of some famous paintings, most of which were religious. He told his brother;

“I started making them inadvertently and now find that I can learn from them and that they give me a kind of comfort. My brush then moves through my fingers like a bow over the strings of a violin – completely for my pleasure.”

Van Gogh made the Pietà from a lithograph of Delacroix’s painting. While the composition of the subject remains the same, Van Gogh’s brought his stylistic approach to the brushwork. The Pietà depicts the Virgin Mary cradling the dead body of Jesus Christ after his crucifixion. The word “Pietà” comes from the Italian word for “pity” or “compassion,” and the theme is one of deep sorrow and mourning. It is impossible not to see the connection for Van Gogh in this work of art. A man desperate for compassion, for understanding, and to be held by a woman. Most of the women in Van Gogh’s were sources of pain and rejection. And yet here we see a woman who is the epitome of acceptance.

Vestibule in the Asylum

Stepping inside the main building, take a minute to walk inside and turn back towards the entry door. This view was captured almost precisely as we see it today by Van Gogh during his stay. Van Gogh hated the living condition here. He described the experience to his brother;

“There is someone here who has been shouting and talking like me all the time for a fortnight. He thinks he hears voices and words in the echoes of the corridors, probably because the auditory nerve is diseased and over-sensitive, and in my case, it was both sight and hearing at the same time, which is usual at the onset of epilepsy, according to what Dr. Félix Rey said one day.”

Especially when compared to the actual view of the hallways, one can really appreciate how his painting displays the profound solitude he felt there. The walls seem to fold in upon themselves. Not a single person can be seen, yet tension is in the air as if we can hear that invisible man screaming from afar.

The Cloisters

Proceed inside the main building, towards the interior cloisters. Cloisters are covered walkways, usually surrounding a courtyard or garden. Cloisters are a distinctive architecture in monasteries built in the 11th century. Today, you can still wander around the cloisters to experience the tranquil space Van Gogh himself would have experienced during his daily walks.

From inside the cloisters, look up at the second-floor windows. It was from here that Van Gogh would have looked down on the gardens on days when he was too ill to go outside.

Outer Courtyard

Before heading upstairs to Van Gogh’s bedroom, walk through the gift shop towards the outer courtyard. Rows and rows of lavender bloom here in the summer and the fields are packed with poppies, irises and roses in the spring.

View of the Asylum and Chapel of Saint-Rémy

As indicated by several letters to Theo, Van Gogh spent the autumn painting in the courtyard. One of the most important paintings he made here was View of the Asylum and Chapel of Saint-Rémy. It is the only painting Vincent made of the entirety of the asylum, not just its gardens or interior walls.

Unlike some paintings he painted indoors from sketches he made outside, this one was painting en-plein air. Standing right here in the lush green space. The colour palette of this painting is very different than his vibrant paintings. The colours are muted, with hues of green infiltrating the rest o of the colours. This was due to the fact that Van Gogh was attempting to capture the changing light outside in the autumn. It was something he was obsessed with—the ability to freeze time and capture a moment in paint.

Van Gogh’s Bedroom

Walking upstairs, we step onto the second floor. It was here where the patient’s bedrooms were held. Inside a room facing out onto the back courtyard, we find the very room where Van Gogh once resided. The room has been meticulously restored to resemble how it appeared during Van Gogh’s stay. The only difference was that Van Gogh was not allowed to paint in the bedroom. Instead, he would have had to go to his studio to do any painting. But the studio and bedroom set up have been combined in this recreation.

Observe the simple furniture and the worn floor. But most important, take your time to gaze out the east-facing window. The bars of which were a prison cell for Van Gogh. He would have been inspired to sketch the painting The Starry Night from this window.

This morning, I saw the countryside from my window a long time before sunrise with nothing but the morning star, which looked very big.

Vincent Van Gogh

The Starry Night

The Starry Night depicts a small village with houses and a church steeple nestled beneath a swirling sky filled with luminous stars. Van Gogh painted this same scene numerous times. But this is the only version of the painting set at night. While the paintings during the day capture the scene accurately, the version at night takes on a more dramatic and expressive tone. Van Gogh takes more risks, changing the scenery to fit his vision. Although historians can date the painting and know that the moon was a waxing gibbous moon on this night, Vincent paints it as a crescent moon.

Although the idea of changing elements of a landscape to suit the intention of the painting better seems like an obvious choice, it was one Van Gogh struggled with. While living with Gaugin, Gaughin frequently encouraged Vincent to delve more into abstraction. But Van Gogh was so focused on painting precisely what he saw. And yet here we see him break away from reality and reach for the stars…literally.

The swirling sky, filled with vibrant stars, seems to move before your eyes. The vivid colours contrast against the night sky. The intense movement and whirling patterns convey a sense of chaos, yet they also evoke a feeling of transcendent beauty and spiritual depth. The stars, in particular, have been interpreted as symbols of hope. They are aspirations beyond the earthly realm. And those iconic cypress trees serve as a bridge from reality towards the celestial domains. It is as if Vincent is trying to paint his way out of his dark existence.

Van Gogh’s Diagnosis

While in Saint-Rémy, Van Gogh’s mental health continued to fluctuate. He experienced both periods of intense creativity and moments of utter despair. During his stay, Van Gogh suffered four serious “attacks” as they were described by the doctors. These were painful and distressing for Van Gogh and his brother Theo. The attack was followed by a period of deep depression in which Van Gogh didn’t paint at all. Then, after some time, Vincent’s creativity and drive would return, and he would resume paintings.

So what did Van Gogh suffer from? This question has enraptured the minds of psychiatrists from around the world for ages. And the truth is that we will never know without these doctors being able to speak directly to the man himself. But many surmise that Van Gogh suffered from manic-depressive psychosis, worsened by his epileptic fits. Epilepsy was prevalent on his mother’s side, and as it is a hereditary disease, this connection makes sense. These attacks were brought on by triggering events in Van Gogh’s life. 

At Eternity’s Gate

One of the most intensive paintings done in Saint Remy was his painting entitled At Eternity’s Gate. Vincent had made this sketch of a pensioner and war veteran in 1882, and while recovering from one of his intensive attacks, he began painting this sorrowful scene. And yet, even in the darkest moments, we have the reference to eternity. As if Van Gogh himself is still clinging to his faith to see himself through this period of darkness.

Portrait of a patient

Though here there are some patients very seriously ill, the fear and horror of madness that I used to have has already lessened a great deal. And though here you continually hear terrible cries and howls like beasts in a menagerie, in spite of that, people get to know each other very well and help each other when their attacks come on.

Vincent Van Gogh

Prisoners’ Round (after Gustave Doré)

Another painting that seems to evoke the internal nature of Van Gogh’s mind during his time in Saint-Remy was Prisoners’ Round. This painting is another copy he made after a print by Gustave Doré. The scene depicts a group of prisoners walking around in a circle in the exercise yard at Newgate Prison. The scene is dark, damp and almost claustrophobic. The walls seem to cave in upon the prisoners below.

The man in the group’s centre is placed at the forefront of the image; his head turned slightly towards us, the viewer. This man is also the only one now wearing a cap on his head, showing off his strawberry blonde hair, the same as Vincent himself. Vincent is placing himself in a literal prison, as no doubt this is how he felt inside the asylum and the torment of his mind. And yet even in the darkest recesses of the world, there is hope. Small and delicate but present. And we can see this by looking closely at the two white butterflies soaring high above the prisoners below. As if they are on their way out, escaping this dark world and flying toward the sun.

The Funeral of Van Gogh

When Van Gogh died, only two months after leaving the asylum, this was one of the paintings that Theo chose to be placed next to his coffin. Painter Émile Bernard came to Vincent’s funeral. When he saw this painting, he wrote,

Convicts walking in a circle surrounded by high prison walls, a canvas inspired by Doré of a terrifying ferocity and which is also symbolic of his end. Wasn’t life like that for him, a high prison like this with such high walls – so high? And these people walking endlessly round this pit, weren’t they the poor artists, the poor damned souls walking past under the whip of Destiny?

Émile Bernard

Road with Cypress and Star 

I want to end this tour, in the treatment room, just opposite Van Gogh’s bedroom. Here, Vincent would take his twice-daily baths, the only “treatment” the doctor gave him to cure his illness. A therapy that no doubt made little to no difference. Instead, he was left abandoned by the very people, the doctors and nurses, who he so desperately had hoped would cure him of his disease. And there must have been no worse feeling than the hopelessness that that abandonment would have caused. More than anything, I think Vincent was very lonely and needed companionship. His search for romantic love in his life has been utterly heartbreaking. And the real true love of his life had always been his brother. To be closer to him, Vincent decided to check himself out of the hospital and move to the small town of Auvers-sur-Oise near Paris (where Theo lived.) 

The Obelisk of Death

Vincent’s last painting while in Saint-Remy is this scene entitled Road with Cypress and Star. This vertical landscape depicts a winding road centred by a deep, dark cypress tree. Many call this an “obelisk of death,” as if Van Gogh knew he was to die.

Behind the tree is a vast expanse of yellow wheat fields and blue mountains. The night sky dominates the upper part of the canvas, with a bright yellow star shining brilliantly above the cypress tree on the left and a vibrating crescent moon to the right. The sky is painted in swirling, turbulent patterns. But it is the bottom of the painting that we will focus upon. In the sea of churning grass are a pair of travellers, walking almost arm in arm. The two men are walking towards the tremendous black cypress tree. Their heads held high, unafraid, looking up towards the beautiful eternal sky above them. Beauty surrounds them in the face of great darkness.

The Death of Vincent Van Gogh

When Van Gogh arrived in Auvers-sur-Oise, he was placed under the care of Dr. Paul Gachet. Despite receiving some medical attention, his mental health continued to decline. And on July 27, 1890, at the age of 37, Van Gogh tragically took his own life by shooting himself in the chest. He passed away two days later, with his brother Theo by his side. 

Devastated at the loss of his brother and suffering from syphilis, Theo died only a year later. They were buried together, side by side, in the town cemetery of Auvers-sur-Oise. Ivy was planted on top of their graves. And today, the vines have grown together, clutching each other, forming one large mass. Emblematic of the connection these two brothers had for one and one in their lifetime. And now for eternity.

Leaving the Asylum

We now take our time to leave the Saint-Paul Asylum, walking back through the gardens and out onto VC des Carrieres road. As you walk back through the gardens, we walk the same path that Vincent would have taken upon his departure. One of Vincent’s last letters to Theo from Saint-Remy spoke enthusiastically of his health and creative endeavours.

At the moment the improvement is continuing, the whole horrible crisis has disappeared like a thunderstorm, and I’m working here with calm, unremitting ardour to give a last stroke of the brush. I’m working on a canvas of roses on bright green background and two canvases of large bouquets of violet Irises, one lot against a pink background in which the effect is harmonious and soft through the combination of greens, pinks, violets. On the contrary, the other violet bouquet (ranging up to pure carmine and Prussian blue) standing out against a striking lemon yellow background with other yellow tones in the vase and the base on which it rests is an effect of terribly disparate complementaries that reinforce each other by their opposition.

Vincent Van Gogh

A Meadow in the Mountains

Exiting through the main gates of the asylum, we turn to the left to walk down the small path that leads into the Parc D’Amour. This beautiful park is where Vincent Van Gogh would come to paint the mountains. In his painting, A Meadow in the Mountains: Le Mas de Saint-Paul, we can see a vast meadow surrounded by rolling hills and mountains in the background. The same mountains we can see spread out in front of our eyes.

The hills in this background play a significant role in this painting. They represent a sense of permanence, stability, and grandeur. Something that we know Vincent was profoundly searching for in his life. A state of tranquillity, enduring, just like nature itself. Their pale blue colour contrasts with the dynamic nature of the vibrant yellow and green meadow below. Walking along this path, you can take in the calm surrounding this valley. The sound of the wind rushing through the tall grass is the only sound that casts itself down on the ground in the sun-soaked afternoon.

Les Antiques

Walking through the park, towards the west side where the D5 roadway now passes, we can hope across the road to see the ruins of Glanum. Just outside a car park stands the great Antiques of ancient Rome. “Les Antiques” refers to these two Roman monuments that once stood on the outskirts of Glanum. The grandest of the two structures is the Triumphal Arch of Glanum. It was erected in the 1st century BCE to commemorate the military victories of the Roman Empire. This arch would have served as the entrance gate to Glanum. The arch is adorned with intricate carvings, including images of military generals and their prisoners. All across the arch are beautiful carvings of the Provencal harvest. We can see grapes, olives, stone fruits and even chestnuts. These agricultural symbols were a means for Rome to display the wealth of their land to any visitors. 

Mausoleum of the Julii

The tallest of the two structures is the Mausoleum of the Julii. The name of the 11th-century abbey, Monastery of Saint-Paul de Mausole, refers to this very Mausole or Mausoleum. When the Benedictine abbey was built in the 11th century, this site was still as important to the people of Provence as it is today. Although Vincent never painted these Antiquities, he would have no doubt visited these sites frequently as they were so close to the abbey. The Mausoleum of the Julii, also known as the “Tomb of the Julii,” dates back to the 1st century BCE. It was built to house the tombs of the mother and father of the three Julii brothers.

The father was a military general, and Julii was one of the most distinguished families in Rome. Carved into the tombs are a series of acanthus leaves, representing eternal rebirth to the ancient Romans. As a man obsessed with eternity, one can imagine how this structure would have greatly captured the imagination of the great artist. Perhaps inspiring Van Gogh to continue his search for the hereafter in the symbolism he painted into his masterpieces.

I hope you have enjoyed this extraordinary journey into the tumultuous yet brilliant artistic world of Vincent van Gogh. As you wander through the charming streets that once captivated the tormented artist, you can’t help but feel a sense of reverence for his resilience and creativity amidst personal struggles. I hope that you come away from Saint-Remy with a deeper understanding of this masterful painter, and maybe seeing this magnificent part of Provence will ignite your own artistic journey!

Happy Travels, Adventurers

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