Pool terrasseLiving room
400m2 Palace, in Granada Spain


Casa/apto. entero

8 huéspedes

4 habitaciones

8 camas


Casa/apto. entero

8 huéspedes

4 habitaciones

8 camas

Indica el número de adultos.
Adultos
1
Indica el número de niños.
Niños
De 2 a 12
0
Indica el número de bebés.
Bebés
Menos de 2
0
Máximo permitido de huéspedes: 8. Los bebés no suman en el recuento.
No se hará ningún cargo de momento
No se hará ningún cargo de momento

Información sobre este anuncio

SMALL PALACE - A MOORISH-INSPIRED ANDALUCIAN OASIS

The luxurious House of the Blue Ray is situated a couple of kilometers from where the Sierra Nevada dips its toes into the azure billows of the Mediterranean sea.

The town of Albuñol forms the gateway to the Las Alpujarras mountain-range, where passages from the legends of Granada Province beckon the traveler into the melancholy mirage created by small white houses which dance like pearls on the slate landscape’s almond-scented rocky ridges.

The history of the House of the Blue Shadows can be traced back to the Moorish period, the Sultanate of Alhambra, palace of myths, where its origins are lost in the mists of time.

With its 400 square meters, the “house with the tower” thrusts its spire towards the glittering blue heavens.

The innocent outer walls hide their own universe, a private refuge which offers a firework-display of poetry and luxury.

Rental include 1 hour cleaning a day, final cleaning, linen, 2 towels pr person pr. week, electricity use, high speed WiFi, and pool service.

El alojamiento

A MOORISH-INSPIRED ANDALUSIAN PALACE - STYLE OF ALHAMBRA

The house is situated a couple of kilometres from where the Sierra Nevada dips its toes into the azure billows of the Mediterranean.

The town of Albuñol forms the gateway to the Las Alpujarras mountain-range, where passages from the legends of Granada Province beckon the traveller into the melancholy mirage created by small white houses which dance like pearls on the slate landscape’s almond-scented rocky ridges.

The history of the House of the Blue Shadows can be traced back to the Moorish period, the Sultanate of Alhambra, palace of myths, where its origins are lost in the mists of time.

With its 400 square metres, the “house with the tower” thrusts its spire towards the glittering blue heavens.

The innocent outer walls hide their own universe, a private refuge which offers a firework-display of poetry and luxury.

Servicios y zonas comunes

Services included in the price:
1 hour’s daily cleaning of the kitchen, bath and terraces; extra bed
1 final clean
Pool service
Use of gas and electricity
Free Internet


El alojamiento
Baños: 2
Dormitorios: 4
Camas: 8
Llegada: A partir de las 14:00
Salida: 10:00
Tipo de habitación: Casa/apto. entero

Servicios

Precios
Personas adicionales: 22€ / noche más de 4 huéspedes
Depósito de seguridad: 300€
Comunícate siempre a través de Airbnb
Para que tus pagos estén protegidos, nunca transfieras dinero ni te comuniques desde fuera de la página o de la aplicación de Airbnb. Más información

Normas de la casa
La hora de llegada es a partir de las 14:00

Certain pets allowed on request


Cancelaciones

Estricta

Puedes cancelar hasta 7 días antes del viaje y recibir un reembolso del 50 %, más las tarifas de servicio.


Disponibilidad
Estancia mínima de 7 noches

Tendrás los datos exactos de la ubicación cuando la reserva esté confirmada.

Este sitio quiere que lo evalúes

¡Aquí es donde se verá tu evaluación cuando hagas una reserva en esta casa!

Copenhague, Dinamarca · Se registró en Agosto de 2012
Perfil de usuario de Morten

We knew nothing about either Andalusia or Spain when one sunny afternoon in 2006 we rented a car in Malaga. Yes I’d read Hemmingway and his ilk in the distant past. I’d actually also paid a flying visit to the Costa del Sol, but that was pretty hazy in my memory when we set off in the rented car, a Nissan Micra that was so small that my knees were scrunched up into the steering wheel.
The purpose of our journey was to find a cheap retreat – it should just be situated in a better climate than that we were familiar with in Denmark. A rather ordinary dream I would imagine, a paradox, something I’d always dreamed of but at the same time had associated with ageing millionaires who loved to idle away their time seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.
Had we – without knowing it – undergone the classic transformation from young idealists to elderly eccentrics, who were now only waiting to drink ourselves to death on a sun-dappled terrace? Were we preparing a life where the high-point of the day would be the obligatory “sundowner”, where complaints about idle Spaniards would intermingle with marital discord, I wondered.
We would end up much wiser over the next four years! The discussions certainly became more intense and wide-ranging.

After having traipsed around with various obscure estate agents along the Andalusian East Coast for some days, we ended up in a small, forgotten hamlet called Albuñol. We’d been “on the road” non-stop and were getting tired, but that day in particular, we felt an air of expectancy; we were sure that it would be a fantastic day.
At the appointed place we were met by a middle-aged Englishwomen with dark circles under her eyes. She was going to show us that favourite house we’d chosen on the Internet. It looked so enchanting on the screen, I can tell you. But, but, but … as so often happens, in reality it was somewhat different from the romantic picture that we’d been captivated by on the net while we drank Rioja from Aldi. The place turned out to be a ruin. The residents of the house, a large flock of racing pigeons, disappeared noisily through an open window when we entered through one of the doors which was still just able to hang on its hinges. On the floor there was a solid mountain of pigeon guano about a metre high.
We were suddenly very disappointed.
In spite of everything, we still tried to remain optimistic…
-We suppose there are other old houses in this town? we asked the English lady, while we looked at her pleadingly.
She nodded briefly and then made a call on her mobile phone and began to speak horribly mangled Spanish with an unknown person.
- Yes I can show you another house, it was put on the market only 3 days ago, she said with her deep alcohol-ravaged voice, whilst wanly trying to smile at us in a customer-friendly way.

The house was a gigantic ancient building in the historic centre of the town, La Plaza. The name oozed poetry, Casa Frederico, the name of the mythological martyred poet from Granada, Fredericio García Lorca. He’s surely written into the annals of this house, I thought.
I remember clearly how the whitewashed stones immediately began to tell me stories the first time that we crossed the threshold. It reminded me of the houses which I’d visited in my imagination when I’d travelled within the tales of Gabriel García Marques or Mario Vargas Llosa; stories of lost souls, and of greatness and decline.
With its many labyrinthine passages and small rooms the house was much more than a house. It was a micro-universe, a town-within-a-town.
The sellers were a family who’d made it their way of life, in best nomadic-style, to move from place to place to work in the burgeoning building sector. Because of that, they’d probably never settled down in Albuñol. Perhaps they didn’t like the town. Perhaps it was just because that building boom which was predicted to follow in the slipstream of an army of fictitious rich foreigners never really got off the ground. In any case, they disappeared just as quietly as they’d arrived four years previously. Then as now – without talking to anyone.

I’ll spare you the details of how Casa Frederico was slowly transformed.
From being a mysterious, barrack-like, semi-ruin, it has been resurrected “Poco a poco” as they say, to its former glory. Like a phoenix, it has rediscovered its proud character as our Carmen Del Rayo Azul, or the House of the Blue Shadows, as we chose to christen it.
Instead, I can confirm what you’ve probably already divined, that for me, the project has developed into a spiritual journey into the narratives and forgotten fables from Granada and Andalusia. It’s as if the house is luring me into itself, pulling at me, disturbing my dreams, just so that I can translate the stories that the metre-thick walls are whispering in my ear.

Ratio de respuesta: 100%
(hace 90 días)
Tiempo de respuesta: en pocas horas