We had a proper lazy morning today. The sunrise came and went without waking us up, and we stayed in bed, not even popping out for pastries. To be honest, we weren't hungry, still full from last night' supper.

Eventually, after 11am, we started the day, on our way to see the street art of the Realajo district.

It began by crossing the street, straight into El Corte Ingles, and out the other side, to reach Carrera de la Virgen, a wide leafy boulevard with a pleasant shady pedestrianised path down the middle. 

At the end, we came to Fuentas de las Granadas, a fabulous fountain in full flow. Despite looking centuries old and its name sounding like it meant Granada's fountain, it was a recent addition, unveilled in 2007 and designed by local Grenadian artist Ramiro Megías and it actually translated as the Fountain of the Pomegranates.  

Looking towards the Jardines del Paseo del Salon we followed a shady path towards a simpler fountain glowing in the sun. It was basically a stone monolith with a few shoots of water squirting towards it.

It was called monumento a Felix Rodriguez de la Fuente. He was Spain's answer to David Attenborough, a naturalist and tv broadcaster. He tragically died on his 52nd birthday in 1980 whilst filming a documentary in Alaska.

We reached the river Genil, and were surprised by how low the water was. It looked shallow enough to wade over to the over side. It didn't even fill its banks. Apparently during Spring the river is full of meltwater from the Sierra Nevada but then over the year it gradually dries up to nothing more than a stream.

The path followed the river but because there wasn't much to see we decided to head back inside the park. After a few minutes we stumbled across a pretty orangery which turned out to be a little cafe called Kiosko Las Titas.

We sat down for a drink. Whilst we waited to be served we browsed the menu. Eventhough we hadn't eaten all day, we still weren't hungry, but we thought we should at least eat something.  

I fancied their tortilla sandwich but waitress informed us the kitchen was closed. However, she offered to make pan con tomate, which was actually even better!

It was served on two halves of an airy bread roll not sourdough but it didn't matter. The simple tomato pulp, seasoned with a hint of vinegar, olive oil and a pinch of salt was just wonderful.

Julie had exactly the same but with the addition of some "wafer-thin ham". 

After half an hour of enjoying the peaceful location we continued our stroll through the gardens. The path lead us to another monument, this time to Duque San Pedro de Galatino.

The 19th century Duke was an adoptive son of Granada, pioneering tourism in the city and Sierra Nevada, building hotels and creating a ski resort. It was a grand obelisk, crowned with an eagle. I was expecting something more heroic from the 8th Duke of San Pedro de Galatino than just being a person of importance. 

Next came another simple fountain known as Fuenta de la Bomba, which got its name from the strange sphere on a pedestal in the centre. It was an old maritime mine (or bomb) through which water was pumped.

Curiously the Spanish word for both pump and bomb is bomba. It was as if someone was having a laugh whilst designing this fountain.

It would be insignificant if it wasn't for the second half of the park was known as Jardines de la Bomba.

The bomba theme continued as we left the park. In the centre of a roundabout was what appeared to be a steam engine but was an antique water pump, or antigua bomba de agua.

We walked up a quiet road, past a small museum called Casa Molinos, a former flour mill but we weren't interested enough to stop at its museum. I was a man on a mission to reach the first mural of the day.

This I soon acheived when after completing a flight of steps we came to a dilapidated building that had been transformed into a canvas by Raúl Ruiz, aka El Niño de las Pinturas (the painting boy).

I don't know if all the artwork was exclusively his. It appeared to be an evolving canvas with a fresh new image high up on the wall.

Nearby, on the corner, was a small square called Placeta Joe Strummer, dedicated to singer and guitarist of the 70s/80s punk band The Clash. Apparently he had a soft spot for the city and was a frequent visitor. He even lived in Spain for a few years.

A song he wrote for The Clash's "London's Calling" album called Spanish Bombs references Granada. It begins "Spanish songs in Andalusia, The shooting sites in the days of '39, Oh, please, leave the ventana open, Federico Lorca is dead and gone" and then ends "Spanish songs in Granada, Oh mi corazón".

After his death a petiton was raised to rename the square. It quickly gathered support.

From the small square on a bend in the road we could see two colourful murals on a building that looked in reasonable condition. A mother and child on a terracotta wall, and a cat on the blue wall. It was quite striking. Nicely done.

Moving on we walked up hill. It wasn't too steep but it was still met with a desperate sigh from Julie.

We reached the walls of the College of Santo Domingo which had some impressive paintings but sadly in poor condition. The plaster had peeled off much of the lower section.  Mind you, its absence added an eerieness to one image in particular, with a face half appearing like a ghost.

The murals continued around the corner, all the way up to the entrance gate of the college. I walked up for a look but most of it descended into poor quality graffitti. 

At this point we had reached the top of the hill. So it was all (gradually) down hill from here. 

Walking down Calle Molinos we passed a few grand villas. One was especially well maintained. It was called Palacio Santa Cruz and was now the Centre for Modern Languages, part of the University of Granada.

Most of the buildings in Realajo however were boring non-descript, 4 or 5 storey apartment blocks, without another mural in sight. It was a little disappointing!

A little bit of excitement arrived in the form of a protest. Police were there to keep an eye on the half a dozen placard waving people. I'm not too sure why they were disgruntled. I wondered if they were outside an abortion clinic but they were stood outside the office of a water company called Emasagra. 

Moments later we came to a colourful Raúl Ruiz mural of a woman blowing bubbles, across a palette of colours, towards a tree. A long eared owl looked on.

The mural continued around the corner with a piano player, a man taking a horse for a walk and more colour squares of a painting palette.

I'm sure the artist had a cohesive concept behind the seemingly random sequence of images but it baffled me. 

On the other side of the road there was another mural, a pair of "ugly ducklings" and a swan extending its wings in attack mode. It coloured up an otherwise eyesore of a blocked-up shop front.

We had time for one more, a painting of the Alhambra and I don't know if that was a red pommegranate or not?

At the end of Calle Molinas, we turned to the left, reaching the church of Santa Domingo. What was noteable about the church was the use of a mural to imitate a facade. Columns, arches, a statue and a coat of arms were all painted on the wall like a stage set.

In the square to the front there was a bronze statue of a 16th century Dominican friar called Luis, best known for his books on prayer and meditation.

We were now thinking it was a good time for a pit stop. A quick check on Google maps brought us to Calle Virgen del Rosario, a beautiful old street with a carpet of black and white pepples that contnued its entire length. 

We were searching for Taberna la Tana, a highly rated restaurant. We found it almost right away but the staff brushed us away. They weren't open until 12:30pm.  We literally had three minutes to wait.

Instead of standing there watching them set out the tables we walked down Calle Virgen del Rosario for a minute.  We stopped for a minute opposite a tiled image of the Virgin of the Rosaries.

When we returned to La Taberna, they were still busy doing anything but opening. All the tables outside has reserved signs placed on them, so we left.

We weren't far from Chikito, the bar where we visited on Tuesday and it was on the way back to the hotel. So we stopped for a glass of wine and a free tapas. This time it was a delicious dish of stewed peppers, similar to an escavalida. 

I had them all to myself and Julie won't eat them. "They repeat on me" she said, just like her mother.

Another glass of wine was ordered and it came with a small plate of cheese drizzled with honey, a winning combination I had never tried before, but will be doing again.

We spent a wonderful relaxing half hour at Chikito. 

It was now time for a siesta.

We headed back towards the hotel, stopping at El Cortes Ingles to pick-up a few supplies for the room. Julie hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

At the deli counter she bought half a chicken. It came with a portion of potatoes and onion, with rosemary and thyme, all cooked in the same roasting tray. She was drooling watching them put it all into a tub to take out.

I picked up a few bits from the salad counter, including a picked baby aubergine, a large tomato and a couple of olive, cheese and sundried tomato pinxtos. It was all exceptionally expensive but all looked amazing.

We dropped off our picnic in the fridge in our room, then headed up to the roof top terrace to see if there was a free lounger. Despite not being that busy they had all been claimed with guest towels. That's such an annoying practice.

Back on our balcony we tucked into our picnic. Julie declared her chicken and potatoes to be the best thing she's eaten on the trip so far!

I thoroughly enjoyed my snack as well. The tomato was a thing of beauty and what I thought was pickled aubergine wasn't, but was sensational anyway.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent dozing in our air-conditioned room.

After three hours of resting we were ready to start the evening. Retracing our steps along the now familiar route to Plaza Nueva we were shocked to see 40C on the kerbside thermometer. It didn't feel any hotter but it must have been heating the cobblestones all day.

We crossed the plaza reaching the river Darro where we found the shop of the Hamman Al-Andalus, a traditional Arab baths nearby, and where we had an appointment at 8pm.

We browsed the store, excited for our experience to come.

Julie bought a lavender fragranced oil and body spray. She showed the shop assistant her tattoo of lavender on her right wrist. "It for my mum who passed away" she explained. "She loved lavender".

The shop assistant got quite emptional. "I have the goose bumps" he said.

We were looking for El Bañuelo, (also known as Baños del Nogal and Hammam al-Yawza), an authentic 11th century Arabian baths. We had walked this way yesterday and hadn't noticed it, so this time we asked the shop assistant.

It wasn't difficult to find, we just needed to know where to look.

We bought our tickets, despite being the Monumentos Andalusies multi-ticket to this and 5 other sites, and only being valid for today. However, at €7 each is was a reasonable price to pay.

El Bañuelo began with a small reception courtyard, floored with the familiar black & white pebbles. It also had a small pool. It's believed that originally it would have been covered by a wooden dome.   

The first few rooms were quite dark, with only a limited amount of light coming in through either hexagonal or 8-pointed stars cut through the vaulted brick roof.

Once our eyes adjusted it became a lot easier to appreciate the rooms. These were believed to have been the changing rooms, and possibly toilets, before entering the steam rooms.  

The skylights were interesting. They were literally holes cut into the roof, open to the elements. 

After the bayt al-bārid, the cold room we entered bayt al-wastānī, the warm room, the largest and most impressive. The dome ceiling had over a dozen stars letting in light. It looked like a constellation.

It wasn't difficult to imagine the hammam full of steam, and splashing water as people were washed down with hot water. The smooth marble floor had a channel running down the centre for the water to flow out. 

Around the three sides were several arches supported by thin plain columns.

We were free to roam around, which was great. It allowed us to walk up close and study the delicate pattern carved on the marble capitals topping the columns.

It's thought that these capitals were older than the baths themselves, that they were re-used from older structures dating back to the Umayaad dynasty, between 8th and 11th centuries.

I was amazed to literally touch a thousand years of history.

From the warm room we moved on to the bayt al-sakhūn, the hot room. It was the third and final room of any traditional steam baths. Sadly, the roof had collapsed but we could still see the small turquoise tiles set into the floor.

Despite hardly spending 10 minutes inside we felt it was well worth the entry fee. The baths had been sympathetically restored and we were suitably impressed.

We left El Bañuelo and decided to find the Hammam al-Andalus. We still had almost two hours before we were due but we thought it would be a good idea to at least know where it was.

We crossed the Darro river over the ancient Puente Cabrera.

Our objective was distracted buy the discovery of Taberna La Bienpagá, a bar and restaurant with a few tables outside in the small square. Despite the high stools Julie was happy to pull up a chair.

We ordered a glass of wine, at €4.50 each. It was a local Grenadian vineyard, called Calvente, a Moscatel de Alejandria, and it was sensational.

They were accompanied by two complimentary portions of tortilla, the famous Spanish omelette. I adored them, both of them. They were cooked as I like them, slightly on the side of underdone, where the egg was still moist .

The dish was very generous considering the price of the excellent quality wine.

With time on our hands we ordered another glass of wine but made a point of saying "no tapas required"  because instead we ordered a tarta de queso cris for dessert. The baked cheesecake was incredibly delicious. The best dessert of the trip.

With an hour still to wait for the Hammam, we decided to stop drinking, otherwise we would turn up drunk.

Instead we decided to find another monument included on our ticket. The nearest one was El Maristán de Granada, just up the street from el Banuelo.

It was a former hospital built in the 14th century but demolished in the 19th century. There wasn't much to see but a restored courtyard and a newly built museum without any artetacts. Anything of interest had been relocated to the Alhambra museum. (In fact I remember seeing the stone lion from here.)

They had plenty of information boards about the place. How it was more of an asylum caring for the mentally ill. Then after the Christian conquest it became the Royal Mint, producing coins, then a monastery, then a winery, before being abandoned.

I don't think we spent anymore than five minutes at El Maristán.

Not wanting to be wandering around hovering about the area we decided to see if we could arrive early at the Hammam al-Andalus. We found it easily enough down a narrow street, called Calle Sta. Ana.

An elaborately carved wooden door frame bordered the entrance, and a lovely lattice screen set the scene. It all looked very inviting. 

We were welcomed and genuinely made to feel at ease. They brought us to an atrium where mint tea was served. We immediately felt relaxed.

A few minutes later we were shown to our changing rooms. We had been briefed that once changed to wait in the first room for someone to fetch us.

I was dressed in my swim shorts and out first, waiting for Julie. When she arrived she said "You only need that towel" pointing to the tea towel thin fabric. The thick towel was meant to be used at the end, in the changing rooms, to thoroughly dry yourself off.

So I returned to my locker. To open it I needed to enter the pin code I had set up earlier but despite multiple attempts, it didn't open!

I conceeding defeat and flagged down a passing staff member for assistance. She got a male staff member with a master key. He then watched me reset the pin and lock it.

I then rentered the pin and it wouldn't open again!

It was clearly a faulty locker. I moved all my belongings to another locker and it worked fine. All the while Julie was sat waiting for me.

She thought I'd got lost and had been walking around the public areas in my shorts (because I have actually done that before!)

The first reception room was dark, lit only by the several candles. There was a small traditional fountain and a pool. It felt nice and cosy with a low ceiling.

We didn't spend long here. Or I should say I didn't spend long here because Julie spent almost 10 minutes in the room. 

Another member of staff arrived and whispered "please follow me".  

What we noticed first was the wonderful aroma as we walked in. There was a warm sweet smell to the air. 

She gave us the escorted tour of the "water journey" from the frigidarium (cold), tepidarium (warm) and caldarium (hot) sequence of traditional Roman baths rather than the Arabian hammam where you would get a good scrub down.

The first pool was narrow, shallow and the coolest temperature.

Opposite was the entrance to the hot plunge pool, a small deep pool accessed down steps with seating around the edge.

The most impressive of the pools was the warm water pool. The arches and columns holding up the vaulted ceiling punctured with several eight pointed stars reminded us of El Bañuelo.

It was stunning and we couldn't wait to get in, but there was still more for us to see.

 In hushed tones she explained that down the steps into a dimly atmospherically lit basement was where we would find the showers and toilets as well as treatment tables for their quick 15 minute massages.

She wished us a wonderful time and left.

We returned to the begining, waded to the end of the coolest pool, and lay down, almost floating. We had it to oursleves. It was the least exciting but felt relaxing.

Next we tried the hot water pool which was like being at home soaking in the bathtub. I really enjoyed the extra heat where as Julie felt it a little oppressive.

Moving on we settled in the perfectly warm, perfectly deep, perfectly beautiful pool beneath the eight pointed stars.

We waded to the far end and turned to look back at the incredible sight of the Arabic arch that lead to the basement. In that precise moment everything felt so good.

Eventually we moved again, in search of the steam room.

It was at this point we went our seperate ways. Julie returned to the warm pools whilst I stayed to be slowly broiled. I loved it.

After a while I heard a voice say "Mr Owen?  it is time for your massage."

Julie and I were shown upstairs to another reception room to wait. I poured myself a cup of mint tea but I hardly had time to drink it before we were asked to follow someone behind a curtain. There we found two treatement tables ready for our couples massage. 

We had booked the 45 minute "relaxing massage with essential oils." They had a row of four treatment rooms with only a curtain between us which felt a bit strange at first but once the masseur began the whole world melted away.

After it finished we returned downstairs to the baths. Julie was ready to leave. She felt so comfortable she didn't want to get wet again but we still had another 30 minutes in the spa if we wanted.

I spent five minutes in the steam room then we both left.

(By the way, no photos were allowed to be taken so I've used the many promotional images on the internet so I can at least remember what it looked like.)

Back out in the streets feeling all soft and glowing we stopped at a small bar for a drink. It was called El Rinconcillo and was in a lovely spot with tables overlooking Plaza de Sant' Ana. Our wine came with a small tapas of battered fish. Julie didn't fancy it so she hid it under a serviette.

When I went inside to pay the barman asked me if we were going to the free concert. We had noticed people walking inside a building a few doors down and wondered what was going on.

Not wanting to miss out on anything we decided to have a closer look. The building had the feel of a municipal administrative office. There weren't any signs and we couldn't hear any noise. Fortunately a couple who knew where they were going passed us, so we followed.

Up the stairs and out the back, we could hear a band playing. On turning the corner we came to some rough ground, a wasteland at the back of all the buildings, filled with a few hundred people. The place was packed. 

The band, called Inauditos, tore into a rousing Spanish rendition of U2's Vertigo.

We queued at the bar, only to have to buy tokens first, before we could then exhange them for two drinks and a dish from a small selection. Once I received the tokens I literally didn't move, but I had to wait another five ninutes to hand them back to exactly the same person and order a torilla with two glasses of their basic white wine.

Julie drifted off towards the revellers enjoying the upbeat rythm of the band whilst I didn't move from my spot.

Eventually the barman came back to tell me thay had sold out of tortilla, so I changed my order to an ensalada rusa.

I stood at the bar, drinking my wine, waiting for the food to arrive.Finally it came. The whole process had taken half an hour. But it wasn't over. There were no cutlery. "¿tenedor?" I asked the barman. He shook his head, shrugged and turned away to serve someone else.   

 His attitude really annoyed me. I couldn't eat it with my hands so I had to leave it. I almost shoved if back off the bar onto the floor, splaterring his burgundy suede loafers with mayonaisse but I stopped myself.

Fuming, I stormed off, caught Julie's attention and said "We're leaving".

She didn't know what was going on but stopped dancing and followed me out of the venue.

My bad temper soon dissipated as we walked back towards the hotel. A slight detour brought us back to Plaza de Bib-Rambla. We hadn't really eaten a proper meal all day so we made our way to a restaurant called Centro, despite it being 11pm!

There wasn't much on the menu for me. The restaurant specialised in "asador" which was barbecue meats so I didn't expect much.

I ordered a starter of pumpkin, spinach and goat cheese croquettas. They were so nice. "I'm going to make these when I get home" I said.

For my main I had a pizza topped with vegetables, which was mediocre at best. Julie however had a steak which was cooked to perfection.

Service was very quick. We were done and dusted within half an hour.

On the way back to the hotel we stopped at a quirky little bar called Casa Enrique for a nightcap. We sat outside beneath the trees. It was almost midnight yet there was still a lovely atmosphere.  

The Albarino wine was wonderful and even at this late hour, a small plate of prawns came to the table. It was a lovely way to end our time in Granada. We were leaving tomorrow.