There are places that have the power to transport me, not only because of their beauty but also because of the history they represent, and because of what my mind can imagine. And this is one of those special places where I can be a princess or a warrior, whichever I choose.
I could say I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve visited the Alcazaba castle or fortress, but that’s not true. Every visit has something special about it; on each one, I find something I hadn’t seen before, or rather, my gaze focuses on different things. I think it has a lot to do with one’s state of mind. But what is certainly true is that I always feel part of this place, as if the walls were speaking to me, I always say that.
People are energy, and wherever one goes, a trace is left behind; imagine, then, the power of the energy of battle, struggle, confrontation or the defence of a city. I picture that era and walk along those walls and those stone streets, and I feel that intense and sometimes colossal force.
But on the other hand, look at the buildings; they themselves speak of fortitude, of standing firm in defence, of attacking when necessary. The towers, the streets, the walls, the small windows, their outward appearance brings to mind a phrase: ‘Intruders do not enter here.’
 |
 |
 |
|---|
But then I wander through the grounds and there is so much to see, from the gardens with their shrubs, plants and fountains where the pigeons alight to have a drink, pigeons that are used to people and are lucky enough to visit this beautiful place every day, whilst the pines and other trees add a splash of colour that brings the area within the walls to life.
The walls are cold, the rock, the stone that has witnessed so much, but the gardens bring everything into harmony, so that a stroll along the narrow paths within them, resting on a stone bench in the shade, is not just about resting but also about observing, looking, paying attention, because from there you can see the arches of supreme artistry, doors or openings in an ancient style, and the journey of the imagination takes flight.
At every turn, you can peer over those walls and take in incredible views of the city. In that moment, it feels as though time stands still, as though you’re looking at the future from the past; the journey is incredible. It’s as if you yourself were travelling back in time and opening a window to see what happens next. There are no longer any warriors or guards, just visitors to an eternal story.
Thousands of tourists visit La Alcazaba, and it’s no wonder, I’d do the same, several times a year, and on this occasion I decided to go in through the main entrance rather than via the tunnel with the lift.
Walking along the walls is an experience not to be missed; they seem to reach for the sky whilst protecting those who pass by, forming a mighty barrier against attackers. I drift in and out of my princess dream within this special place.
 |
 |
|---|
But as I wandered back and forth, some very narrow openings led me to rooms filled not only with history but also with the remains of a civilisation from another era. And seeing each object was special; each one had its own story. Someone had used it, one or several people, but someone had also created it, and everything was made by hand. How much I value that, now that everything is done differently.
Jars, plates, utensils, all manner of items, displayed in showcases for people to admire. Many showcases containing precious objects, hand painted using techniques very different from those used today, with value created by human hands. There’s so much to reflect on here.
I reached the hall where the lift is located to go down to the exit, but I couldn’t help but look at the arches and the ceiling. You know I notice every detail, and here every single one counts. Unique historical, cultural and architectural value.
Thank you for joining me on this Wednesday stroll. Warm regards to you all, see you soon. Amonet.
All photographs are my own.
