Arriving in Granada, it feels as though the Alhambra is always within sight, rising above the city on its steep, triangular hill, watching over every street and square. Before my first visit to the Granada Alhambra, I remember staring at maps and guidebooks, feeling completely overwhelmed. The complex seemed less like a single monument and more like a maze of names: Alcazaba, Mexuar, Comares, Lions, Partal, Generalife, all blending together. I could not quite understand how the fortress related to the palaces, where the Generalife fit into the picture, or why some areas required timed entry while others did not. Was it one palace? Several? A garden? A castle? In truth, the Alhambra is layered, intricate, and expansive, but once you see how the pieces connect, it transforms from confusing to extraordinary.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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 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, 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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
Mexico City proudly holds the title of having the second-highest number of museums in the…
Even after four different trips to Mexico City, I had (ashamedly) never been to the…
Over the last 20 years, writing about museums all over the world, I have also…
Stepping up to the Lucha Libre arena in Mexico City can be an intimidating (but…
When planning our first trip to Mexico City, Xochimilco was one of those places on…
When I first visited Mexico City in 2019, it felt like it was right on…
This website uses cookies.