UNFRIENDLY and judgemental faces glower down upon the people of Granada from rooftops, columns and sunlit facades. These are the faces of the city Watchers. They have dwelt among the winds and the pigeons since mediaeval times and harbour little love for the mortals who scamper below. They can be vindictive, malevolent, rancorous and resentful. It is best to wander the streets with eyes averted unless you can summon the confidence to confront and challenge. I have spied the Watchers in many European cities – Krakow has a particularly virulent assemblage. Here in Granada they can be glimpsed by the light of the sun; or by the rays of the moon when – with a scraping of stone and a dribbling of dust – they occasionally change position. The city Watchers possess the scrupulous morals of the artisans who fashioned them and the tyrannical ways of the merchants and clergy whose unsoiled hands paid silver for the toil. They are an antiquity, a remnant of a past world that has survived into the present and will continue into the future. They guard and they condemn. And, occasionally, they act with frightful malice . . .
The Watchers haunt high places. To the unobservant, they are little more than inanimate lumps of honeyed stone, skilfully-moulded forms in black iron, or daubs of paint on flaking walls. From their nooks and ledges they uphold the values of Christian Spain and maintain the integrity of their city. When angered, which is often, they are swift to strike and ruthless in their actions. Do not cross the Watchers . . .
Most people live their lives unaware of the Watchers. They are content to suppose that Granada is nothing more than a typical European city with a few old buildings, a congregation of churches and a cathedral. Their eyes fail to see, their ears fail to hear. Granada is a very beautiful place and its architecture is to be appreciated. To the unobservant, the Watchers are invisible . . .
There are unguarded moments when the Watchers are glimpsed by the curious below. This causes a commotion, with great gesticulation, and a frenzied clicking of cameras . . .
But the overwhelming majority of city dwellers and visitors go about their business with a lack of understanding and a demeanour that could be considered reckless . . .
Meanwhile, the Watchers watch as the city revolves through its eternal cycle of daily toil. Church bells toll in a predetermined order; the hands of clocks labour round; shadows creep from one lofty gable to the next. And the Watchers watch . . .
Passing the cathedral, I hear a scraping of stone. I am being watched by St Peter, who has allowed his keys to jangle. Summoning every last drop of courage, I cry: “Are you watching me?” St Peter averts his gaze and utters denials. Three, in fact . . .
Down on the streets the Watchers have spies. On every corner, in every window, in every doorway, the spies with eyes don’t compromise. Some appear menacing, others ludicrous – but they continue their silent and eternal vigil . . .
Many are sinister – like these three here . . .
Don’t cross the Watchers of Granada – or the Watchers of any European city. Retribution is swift and without mercy. Your fate will be silent and unwitnessed. Little evidence that you ever lived and breathed will remain on this earth . . .
Very nice bit of writing there cuz and it explains a lot. I thought the feeling of unease was just the post-Rioja paranoia but now I know the truth! 🙂
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I think it’s just as well we stuck to those little bars in the back alleys out of the way, Cuz. Mind you, the post-Rioja paranoia won’t have helped.
Alen
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Well, I don’t know. away from the watchers, I’m pretty sure there were more than a few djinns lurking around in Albaizin 🙂
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Arn’t we all watchers really? Mind out! Some ones throwing shoes!
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Perhaps. But then do the Watchers know they are being watched?
I have another picture of another pair of shoes taken in similar circumstances on Ludgate Hill in London. Nowhere is safe, Ash.
Cheers, Alen
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Alen, I don’t see you as a city man (particularly being barefoot) but that i suppose is another story. I’m signing off for the next few months, trying to get my life back into some form of order……….ha! That’ll be fun! Hopefully I’ll catch up with you next year. May i be the first (?) to wish you a very happy Christmas!
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Well, Ash. I think that must be the record for the earliest ever Christmas wishes. The same to you and good luck.
All the best, Alen
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Yep, some of those are downright creepy. Not a problem in rural areas as there’s no architecture money – we are just watched by trees…
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Trees can be even creepier, Mrs P, because they move about and make sighing noises. And they have knobbly roots like knuckles. I’d be very careful if I were you.
Cheers, Alen
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I’d be tempted to give them a ‘V’ and see what they did 😉
Carol.
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Ha ha. I’ll try that.
Alen
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I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy wandering around a European City and it’s churches ever again…. 😉
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Nowhere is safe, Chrissie.
Alen
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Spectacularly post, Alen. You have just delivered the next proposal for a screenplay with Tom Hanks in the leading role: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3062096/
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Now that’s a good idea, Hanna. Angels and Watchers; The Granada Code; Infirmo. I’ll get on with the screenplay straight away. I suppose you’ll want a cut.
Alen
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That would be nice 🙂 🙂
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Brilliant post Alen. You are not getting paranoid are you?
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I’m only paranoid when others are trying to harm me.
Alen
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Sounds like that Doctor Who episode with the stone angels eating folk. Remind us: you live in an isolated house, don’t you? Will they hear you scream when the Watchers come for you?
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I won’t sleep tonight now you’ve said that.
I used to frighten my granddaughter with the stone angels. It was the only thing that would keep her in line. I think they came second in a poll after the Daleks about the most frightening Dr Who monsters. They used to frighten me, I know that.
Cheers, Alen
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Haha, brilliant, Alen! Loved this post. So very observant. All of the watchers are essentially creepy but the mannequins take the biscuit as far as I’m concerned. I am afraid I had to look up the denials of St Peter as I was sure there was a reference there, which just shows how holy I am. Granada looks to be a very interesting place!
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Ha ha. Poor old St Peter. Here’s something else about him you may or may not know, and I mention it because I know you like your saints. If you come across a pub called the Cross Keys (and there are many of them) it is always in the parish of a St Peter’s church. If you look at the picture of the statue, St Peter’s keys are crossed. I shall have to look up the reason for this because I don’t know what the significance is.
Cheers, Alen
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Oh! I love that! I shall have to look it up too! Thanks, Alen! 🙂
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Apparently, it’s to do with the keys to the kingdom of heaven.
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Of course! All the old jokes about St Peter at the gates. 🙂 Thanks, Alen!
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