Spain. The frontier of the Mediterranean, the centre of political upheaval, the first modern-day tourist destination, the former empire and colonizer of south America, the sun-bathed country-side and beaches, the birthplace of modern art, the epicenter of gastronomy, the profligate spenders, the home of youth unemployment. This country is not easily generalized, or stereotyped. Culturally, the relatively small country is far from congruent. The two most powerful economic regions are not very Spanish at all. The Basque country, home of new-Basque cuisine that has tilted the world of gastronomy, was settled by Germans. The mountainous ranges near Bilbao and San Sebastian will invoke images of Switzerland or Austria. The nearby region of Catalonia, centered by Barcelona, has a language closer to French. Neither of the inhabitants of these regions would call themselves “Spanish”.

The Spain that we know and wins Fifa World Cups is very much defined by Madrid, the landlocked city plopped in the middle of everything. This capital, we can confidently say, is Spanish. Everything around the edges is a bit varied. It seems like the Spanish can take a vacation to all corners of the world without leaving their own country. We began the Spain trip in Andalusia, the southern region. The area is a stone throw from North Africa, and so was in history once dominated by Muslim moors. The Arab culture lasted late into the 15th century, leaving behind a strong Arab style to the architecture. The cities to visit here are Seville, Granada, Malaga and Cordoba. They’re all day-trip cities an hour or so away from each other.

Seville is the stateliest of the cities, best known as the titular city in Rossini’s comedic opera. It is a good candidate for arrival given its relatively large airport. The main area of interest is the old-city, a cheap and cheery, vibrant rendition of the Spanish life. It is easily mistakable with a small Portuguese coast-town with narrow streets lined by dwarfed buildings in danger of toppling over. In the middle of everything is the Metropol Parasol, a hard-to-miss structure that expresses the Spanish love for modern art and architecture. It is looks like a supersized intersecting wood-cutout in a monochromatic version of Avatar forest. The Alcazar of Seville is a Moorish fort turned royal palace. Muslim architecture is apparent in the vibrant shades of blue, the lofty arches and walls overridden with engraved script. Another decidedly cool thing to do is to knock on the gates of convents and buy from them nun-made treats. For example, Convento de Santa Paula sells jars of jam.

From there, a three-hour train ride takes you to Granada, the last stronghold of the Muslims before it was lost to the Kingdoms of Castile and Aragon in 1492. Until you see it, it is the city of lore – a European city that seems to have belonged to another place and time. At its centre is Alhambra, the mythical fort and pleasure palace that Boabdil, the leader of the Moors, had sighed at before handing it over to Catholics. Salman Rushdie, the death-listed artist, had written The Moor’s Last Sigh, that had made the Red Fort seem almost unworldly:

View of Alhambra from Mirador de san Nicolas

“And so I sit here in the last light, upon this stone, among these olive- trees, gazing out across a valley towards a distant hill; and there it stands, the glory of the Moors, their triumphant masterpiece and their last redoubt. The Alhambra, Europe’s red fort, sister to Delhi’s and Agra’s — the palace of interlocking forms and secret wisdom, of pleasure-courts and water-gardens, that monument to a lost possibility that nevertheless has gone on standing, long after its conquerors have fallen; like a testament to lost but sweetest love, to the love that endures beyond defeat, beyond annihilation, beyond despair; to the defeated love that is greater than what defeats it, to that most profound of our needs, to our need for flowing together, for putting an end to frontiers, for the dropping of the boundaries of the self. Yes, I have seen it across an oceanic plain, though it has not been given to me to walk in its noble courts. I watch it vanish in the twilight, and in its fading it brings tears to my eyes.”

El Huerto de Juan Ranas

Indeed, the gigantic stone structure, lit up appears like a castle in the sky. It is best viewed from the restaurant El Huerto de Juan Ranas, or the adjacent plaza Mirador de san Nicolas (free). 100€ for two buys admission to dinner with a view. We made reservations day-of and got ledge-side seats for coming a bit early. The food was delicious. Begin with a refreshing Gazpacho, a traditional Spanish dish originating out of Andalusia to offset its hot summers. This one dish would make several reprises over the week. Then silky foie gras wrapped with melon and topped with torched caramel. A raunchy lamb tagine is a little too chewy at times. For dessert, a few chocolate truffles, a molten chocolate cake and a scoop of basil. The restaurant reverberates the qualities of fine food, like the butterfly wings drawn in mango and strawberry syrup in the dessert. And while the food comes slowly, the darkness settles in, showing the Moorish fort in a new light.

As you might stare pensively at the glorious structure, and perhaps let out a small sigh, there will be an unbearable inkling to visit it. Tickets sell out in advance so reserve online. Then go to a Caixa ATM to pick up the tickets (15.4€). The inside of the palace is so splendid that it, itself, justifies the trip to Andalusia. Most important is the Nasrid Palaces, the equivalent of Seville’s Alcazar on steroids. Looking at the carefully chiselled roof is like starring at the stars. Resplendent tiles, marble floors, the quiet drizzle of running fountains, gleaming stain glass windows and stone that has lost its blue colour to the test of time – this palace must have been the envy of all its contemporaries. It manages to surprise and delight even the most seasoned royal palace visitor. It is special.

To witness the true multicultural nature of Granada before the Catholic invasion, go to al-Yahud Garnata, Granada of the Jews. For some food and drinks, there is Campo del Principe. Then climb up to the Sephardic Museum at Placeta Berrocal 5 (5€). The museum wins the worst museum of the trip award, but the trip up there affords a beautiful view of the city.

A one-hour bus ride takes you to Malaga, a relatively ugly coastal city with a decent sized airport. Its beaches have been labeled unsanitary; its river-canal has dried up to reveal a slew of garbage. It was the birthplace of Picasso, though even he never went back after leaving at a young age. The Museo Picasso is probably worth seeing. A nice view of the city can be found at the Alcazaba, accessible by the infrequent bus 35 so plan ahead. Walk along the beach Costa del Sol, which takes a reasonably naturalistic approach. Then go into the park that runs along Paseo del Parque for a seriously green artificial garden.

By now, you will be inkling to get out of this troubled city. A perfect spot is the Villa Guadalupe hotel and Amador restaurant inside. The room and meal are cheap but the taxi to town costs about 15€ and the trip to the airport is 25€. The views of suburban Spain and the Mediterranean are spectacular from this mountain-top resort. The meal begins with an unexpected serving of Gyoza, dipped in a light vinegary sauce. Then lush greens on creamy avocado and slices of pork. Then, as is a specialty in these parts, a skin-on seabass on potatos, taziki spread and poached tomatoes. Surprisingly, the fish was not the freshest, perhaps because it was a Monday. 60€ for 2 people.

Andalusia is the sun-bathed touristy destination with trills from Muslim architecture. The only essential site is Alhambra, the impressive and gorgeous palace that deserves a longwinded sigh. Add a few other cities, cheap sangria and acceptable, cheap food, and a relaxing, if not eventful, destination arises.