You need to be careful with first impressions, especially when traveling. I learned that – not for the first time – several years ago when I first visited Madrid.

I’ve studied Spanish for decades and know enough to be able to communicate in basic terms. And in certain cities, Buenos Aires and Mexico City among them – I’ve been able to get by more or less OK.

My first three experiences in Madrid, though, were different. The cab driver who picked us up at the airport responded to me solely in monosyllables. The clerk at the hotel where we stayed was downright rude. And the waiter (mesero? camarero?) at the first restaurant where we ate was equally dismissive.

So, though it’s a great city – and I know it’s completely unfair – Madrid doesn’t exist in my memory as one of my favorite spots.

But I have to be careful about Granada as well. Because simply stated, our two-night stay in that city in southern Spain filled me with nothing but love.

As I’ve written in previous blog posts, I met up with my wife late one recent May afternoon in Madrid. The next morning we trained to Córdoba, then the day after that we boarded another train to Granada.

I wasn’t sure what my reaction would be. My limited knowledge of recent Spanish history told me that this was a place where the poet Federico García Lorca hung out. Which is only natural considering he was born in the town of Fuente Vaqueros, which sits some 17 kilometers to the west of Granada.

And it was on a road nearby that García Lorca was murdered in 1936 during the early stages of the Spanish Civil War.

But despite that sad bit of history, Granada charmed me from the start. We arrived around 4 p.m. and took a cab to our hotel, Hotel Monjas Carmen, which sits in the city’s historic center, at the foot of Granada’s most famous site – the Alhambra (more on that later).

Since I was still feeling the effects of jet lag – which would take me a full week to recover from – I took a short nap just after eating a quick lunch at the hotel restaurant. (Not just any hotel restaurant, though. Los Manueles has been around for more than a century, though in different locations. The egg dishes in particular are both tasty and filling.)

After I woke up, somewhat refreshed, we went out for a walk and ended up at the Catedral de Granada – another majestic Spanish church, this one commissioned by Queen Isabella, built on the site of a former mosque.

Afterward, to escape the sprinkles of rain that were beginning to fall, we ducked into one of several small bars in this part of the city center. This one was called – appropriately enough – Casa de Todos (house of/for everybody). And this is where my love affair with Granada was cemented.

We found a couple of seats in a warm, well-lit corner of the place, and I went up to the bar to order drinks. The bartended, a bearded young guy who looked to be in his mid-20s, smiled as I ordered a beer (cerveza) and a glass of red wine (un vaso de vino tinto). And his was a gracious smile, not in any way condescending.

Curious, and wanting to practice my Spanish, I asked him what the difference was between a mesero and a camarero, both words that I knew meant “waiter.” I can’t say that I understood everything he said – he spoke fairly rapidly – but I understood enough. (And since then I’ve learned that, apparently, mesero is used more in Latin American than in Spain.)

Anyway, after I paid and carried our drinks back to the table, the bartender soon passed by and placed a plate of appetizers between us. Again, he smiled. And smiling back, I thought: Hey, an early dinner!

Now, this wasn’t the first time I’d experienced being served food after ordering something to drink. It’s a common practice in Italy. But this was a first for me in Spain. And it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Comforted by the experience, we left in a good mood – despite the overcast skies and wet streets. We stopped by a pastry shop, picked up a couple of delicious looking galletas (cookies) for dessert and headed back to the hotel.

Time enough to do more sightseeing the next day. But first, I hoped, to get some actual sleep.

Next up: The Alhambra.