Turning 60 in Spain and Marrakesh

 

If you want to understand why Andalusia is my favorite part of Spain, you have to understand that it doesn't feel entirely European. It feels like a crossroads, like a place where Africa and the Middle East and the Mediterranean all pressed themselves into the stone and the music and the food and never fully left. That is because they didn't.

Andalusia was shaped by a succession of civilizations, Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, but it was the Berber Muslims, the Moors, who left the most indelible mark. They called it Al-Andalus, and they ruled for nearly 800 years. Eight centuries of architecture, agriculture, philosophy, poetry, and culinary tradition soaked into this land. You can still taste it. You can still hear it.

On our last trip through Spain, Greg, Tracy, and I explored western Andalusia, Seville, Cádiz, and the white villages of the interior. This time, we are driving from Madrid south through eastern Andalusia, taking our time through the small towns and wild nature of the Sierra Nevada corridor before landing in Granada. I want the road version, the kind where you pull over because a village looks interesting, where you find lunch somewhere that doesn't have a website.

We are staying in Granada, the crown jewel of that Moorish world, and taking day trips through the countryside and nature preserves.  The Alhambra palace sits above the city like a dream you can walk through — its geometry, water, and light a testament to a civilization that understood beauty as a form of devotion. Down the hill in Córdoba stands the Great Mosque, over 1,200 years old, its forest of candy-striped arches still arresting in a way no photograph fully captures. The Alcázar in Seville, which we visited last time, is more of the same architectural genius, a conversation between cultures, layer upon layer of human imagination.

And then there is flamenco. Born here in Andalusia and deeply rooted in the Moorish musical tradition, the bent notes, the modal scales, the ache in it. You hear that same quality in Arabic classical music, in the call to prayer, in the strings of an oud. It is not a coincidence. It is an inheritance. Pablo Picasso was born in Málaga, just down the coast, and you can feel in his work that same restless visual energy that Andalusia produces in people, this place where civilizations collided and made something entirely new.

That is why I keep coming back; this is why I do deep dives into the history of the places we travel. I am a curious traveler; I like to know the who, what, when, and where of a culture, and how it evolved in relation to its landscapes, nature, and migrations. We will spend a handful of days in this region before heading off to Marrakesh. Marrakesh sits on the African continent in North Africa, specifically in the Maghreb, the Arabic term for the far northwestern corner of Africa. Marrakesh itself was founded in 1062 and was once a major trading hub for Saharan caravans carrying gold and salt northward. Its ancient medina was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985.

This is how I am turning 60. In beauty…Jeffrey

Comments

  1. UnknownMay 1, 2026 at 4:09 PM

    As always, a pleasure to enjoy an informative collection of experiences from a skilled and perceptive author...

    Thank you for this generosity. To know the world is certainly to know where each of us are

    May your added year add to your extended grace, wisdom, and beauty in life-- ours and yours--

    ReplyDelete

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