We have fallen in love
with Andalucia. We made a deliberate decision to skip the motorway in
favour of the longer, but more scenic mountain roads as we headed
south. We had certainly had our own pre-conceived ideas of Spain and
what we thought it would look like. This was what we wanted
Spain to look like.
Instead
of flat, dry and dusty landscapes, there were mountains and valleys, trees, lakes and tiny white-washed, picturesque villages perched
high on sunny peaks.
We
stopped to take a photo of the rolling hills of olive groves. Mike
got a little too close to some canines' private space, and got out of
there in a big hurry. I almost rolled down the hill from laughing.
Stopping
again, to take photos of a village called Zahara, we were surrounded
by rural haciendas, eucalyptus trees (strangely), a dam, lots of
prickly-pear cactus and...sewage ponds. Nice. But the vista was
spectacular.
We
made sure we stopped at one of these villages, Ronda. 'The book' has
pictured this place straddling a ravine. We didn't see this view,
sadly (next time!), but visiting the town was nice. We stopped for
lunch at the one café
that didn't have an employee trying to entice us in, and Mike got the
full picture of how much I really just don't like tomatoes.
Ronda
has a fully preserved bullring, one of the oldest in Spain, which
they have made into a museum on horse travel, guns and bullfighting.
We saw duelling pistols on display with descriptions such as “used
in the fatal duel between...” one guy and another. It was a
little strange to be looking at a gun that killed someone. The
bullring itself was very impressive. It kind of got under the skin, you
could imagine what it would be like full of cheering people with
banners and flags. It certainly made an impact on Mike, who started
pawing at the ground, charged me in the belly and again threw me over
his shoulder, running around in circles. Clearly this behaviour was
contagious, as the family group also in the ring started doing the
same.
Back
in the parking area, Ruby also caught a bit of the bullheadedness,
and the starter motor clicked, the engine wouldn't turn. At all.
Out came the shifter/crescent, and a few good hits got it
going again. This had been an ongoing problem since the first time in
France. Most of the time, however, Mike's stubborn and continuous
key-turning would kick it into action. Since Ronda, on only one other
occasion has physical force with the shifter/crescent been
required. All those (many) other times that the starter has been a
bit dodgy, just the threat of me reaching for the heavy tool in the
glove box has been enough to get her moving again. Mike insists that
Ruby is not stubborn, just a little tired in her old age :) (Softie!)
As
we left Ronda, we took a route that wouldn't allow us a view of the
village from the bottom of the ravine, but the rest of the
mountainous drive was stunning. Mike (and I, for that matter)
discovered I have an amazing skill for taking photos on the go, and
catching a tree, a pole, a sign or a truck, somewhere in the frame.
It's almost uncanny, and very frustrating! There have been
more than a couple of u-turns in order to go back and catch the
non-obstructed shot.
The
winding drive out of the mountains was, of course, stunning,
punctuated with more perfect-looking white-washed villages. I tried
to share Mike's excitement when a Bugatti Veyron flew by us in
the opposite direction, but I was only fast enough to catch the
camera crew tailing it.
As we rounded the corner, I was much better
prepared to snap the second one. No, it's not necessary to point out
that it is stationary :P
As
mentioned previously, Mike rarely puts something on the list that he
really wants to see. So when he does, I wholeheartedly agree
to it (within reason). In this case, there was something about
Gibraltar that had captured his fancy. This was the direction we were
heading and we were making much better time than expected. Long
before we reached the coast, we could see the ocean from the
mountains, and very soon after that, the Rock of Gibraltar.
First, we
had to reach the coast. We got close, passing through a very
posh suburb, with beautiful grand houses. Then, I don't know how, we
ended up in the maze-like bendy quiet streets of a golf resort
estate. Oh, geez. We drove for ages parallel to the coast, knowing we
just had to head left, and couldn't, anywhere.
Eventually, we scared
the life out of an elderly lady by stopping to ask for directions.
Blessedly, she spoke English but only helped us get a little bit further. After
that, we could see where we wanted to be, and we couldn't help
but laugh as we tried to find some way over the barrier
separating us from the motorway.
We
finally made it and very soon, Gibraltar loomed above us...
