For his latest TV adventure, MICHAEL PORTILLO spent three months traveling through Andalucia, sampling its heady mix of cultural influences – and reminiscing about his family roots

Oh my word! Arriving in Granada, in my opinion one of the most beautiful cities in the world, remains exciting. The mountainous setting, set against the backdrop of the towering, snow-capped Sierra Nevada, is unparalleled in all of Andalusia.

This southernmost region of Spain is the most culturally complex. In many parts of the country, such as Catalonia and the Basque Country, the inhabitants have their own language and some want to break away to forge their own identity. But no Andalusians. They are proud to speak Castilian, the language spoken throughout the country.

Much of what we consider quintessentially Spanish, such as flamenco and bullfighting, is strongest in Andalusia. That doesn’t always work well with the rest of the country. Many in the past have been unhappy with the thought of projecting an image of a backward and agrarian Spain to the outside world. “For heaven’s sake,” came the cry. ‘Flamenco? Kill bulls? That’s the last thing we want to show.’

But not everyone agreed. They appreciated what was in the South. They loved flamenco. They liked bulls. And what attracts me to the region, with its olive groves and mountain villages, is precisely that connection with tradition. It’s where people are married to the land. They breed horses and their lives depend on the next rainfall.

To make my new TV series, I spent three months traveling through Andalusia, starting in glorious Granada, passing through Cordoba, Seville, Malaga, Ronda and Cadiz, and ending in Carmona, an ancient town near Seville that I luckily may call it my second home.

To create his new TV series, Michael traveled through Andalusia for three months, starting in glorious Granada, passing through Cordoba, Seville, Malaga, Ronda and Cadiz, and ending in Carmona. In the photo: Plaza de España, Seville

Along the way I tasted fried pig’s ears, baked pastries fit for a pope and held the hand of a saint who passed away centuries ago.

I also implore the hundreds of thousands of us who flock to the Spanish sun on Andalusia’s Costa del Sol every year to consider an unforgettable detour just 80 kilometers inland from the Mediterranean coast.

Granada attracts more than two million visitors every year. For many of them, this is their idea of ​​Spain – with the irony that the city is a remnant of a foreign dynasty long lost in history.

The area was once part of a large Muslim kingdom in Europe that stretched deep into France, and most of Portugal and Spain. Granada was the most important stronghold of Islam in Europe. It is, of course, home to the Alhambra, a palace and fortress built on a plateau in the 13th and 14th centuries. The opulence of the design stops you in your tracks.

Over time, Islam was expelled from Spain and Christianity gained the upper hand. Yet one can look back to periods when Christians, Jews and Muslims lived together peacefully in cities such as Malaga and Cordoba. It is comforting to remember that era of living together in our difficult times.

As a student of history, I find this mix of cultural influences intoxicating. It permeates Spanish culture, even into what people put on their plates.

This became clear to me when I met food writer Fiona Dunlop in Granada’s central market. Like me, she has made southern Spain her second home.

As we walked through the stalls, she explained the fusion of Arabic and Western cuisine. Even fruits that we consider Spanish homegrown turned out to have origins further away. In the 8th century, Moorish culture brought watermelon and citrus fruits from China via Persia and Baghdad. Snails, which we later enjoyed for lunch, first arrived with the Berbers from Morocco.

As a student of history, Michael describes Andalusia’s mix of cultural influences as ‘intoxicating’, from ‘Spanish culture to what people put on their plates’. In the photo: the Puente Nuevo in Ronda, one of the many cities Michael visited during his three-month tour

Fall asleep: Michael in Granada with food writer Fiona Dunlop during his new series

There is another, very personal reason why I am drawn to Granada. It was in the beautifully manicured gardens of the Alhambra that I had one of the last conversations with my Spanish-born father, Luis Portillo, before he died.

I am very proud of my dual heritage: from my father, who came to Britain as a political refugee, and from my Scottish mother, Cora.

My father was 29 and a professor of civil law at the University of Salamanca when the civil war broke out in 1936. Fascists, led by General Franco, overthrew the republican government to take control.

As an intellectual, poet, republican and junior official in the Ministry of Justice in Madrid, he was an obvious target for arrest or assassination. But luckily he was in the capital on the day the fighting broke out. Others, including his acquaintance, Feederico Garcia Lorca, were not so lucky. He was arrested from his home in Granada and shot. So my father’s memories of walking through the gardens of the Alhambra with Lorca were dear to him.

Above, a flamenco performance in front of the Alhambra Palace. Michael says its opulence ‘stops you in your tracks’

“Arriving in Granada, in my opinion one of the most beautiful cities in the world, remains exciting,” Michael writes of the Andalusian city, adding: “It was in the beautifully kept gardens of the Alhambra. [above] that I had one of the last conversations with my Spanish-born father, Luis Portillo, before he died’

At the end of the conflict, my father walked across the Pyrenees to France and then ended up in Britain, where he was welcomed as an intellectual and political refugee. As a university man he went to Oxford where he met my mother, who was a student. They settled in London and had five boys, of whom I am the youngest.

My mother was always adamant that we should know our heritage. From the age of eight I was sent out alone to visit uncles, aunts and cousins. It wasn’t until I was twelve that I met my father’s much younger sister, Ana Maria, a nun in Malaga who was also my godmother. She taught at a Jesuit girls’ school, and when I was visiting, she happened to be leading a coaching group of students across Spain, which I was invited to join. That meant my very first visit to Andalusia was as an ‘maid of honour’.

Of all my many destinations over the years, Andalusia is the most personal. Not just because of my Spanish connections, but because it was a homecoming. My wife and I have owned a home in Carmona for several years. We bought a wreck and found three Roman mosaics during the renovation. A fusion of cultures surrounds me: I only have to look at the ancient walls of the city to appreciate the layers of history: Phoenician, Roman, Visigothic, Muslim and Christian.

Besides passion and fusion, there is another word that is important in Andalusia: el duende. It is a poetic term that describes a kind of enchantment that inspires the performance of music and dance. As part of our filming we threw a flamenco party at our house. Guitarist, percussionist, singer and dancers were driven by that inner spirit to new heights of improvisation. We were possessed by the rhythms and heartbreaking laments of flamenco.

The drinking, the feasting, the song and the dancing continued long into the night. We were in Andalusia, the beating heart of old Spain, and in the grip of el duende.