Ronda
Tuesday was supposed to be our trip to Gibraltar but somehow at the last minute it slipped my mind to bring my passport. Somehow I think I thought it would be obvious I'm British and they'd let me through. Mum didn't want to risk it (!) so we headed into the hills to Ronda instead.
Ronda's one of the White Towns - towns in the hills where all the houses are whitewashed so they are very visible from a distance. Ronda's probably the largest and oldest of the towns, with large parts dating back to the times of the Moors.
The town is built on the side of a gorge, which was used in times past as a quick and easy execution site (simply chuck people over the side). Now it's got fencing to prevent tourists slipping over and looks out across a vast expanse of farmland.
It is possibly most famous for it's bullring - one of the oldest in Spain. I went in, mainly because mum and Steve had already gone in and I didn't want to stand around waiting half an hour for them. I don't like the idea of bullfighting. I think it's barbaric, and I didn't want to give any money or implicit show of support to it, but in the end I caved and tried to convince myself I was there because it's a historic and cultural site. It is, but it's also the place where several thousand people come to watch animals being slowly and painfully killed solely for entertainment.
It was quite interesting all the same. Apparently all the military cavalry is trained there and there was an amazing collection of livery and harness from the French royalty. In fact there was very little mention of the bloodshed.
Ronda was a beautiful town. Although it was full of tourists it didn't feel 'touristy'. I doubt it would be as well-kept or populous if it wasn't for tourism but it felt, for the first time, like we were in real Spain. Fuengirola and Malaga were so intent on getting tourists to feel at home (why go on holiday if you want everything to be like at home?) that getting simple things like a tortilla were proving next to impossible. Ronda, in contrast, seemed proud of being Spanish and producing Spanish food and drink. It gave an (idealised) view of Spain whereas down on the coast
there seemed to be a concerted effort to make people feel like they'd never left the UK. Blackpool with more sun.
We lunched next to the Puente Nuevo (new Bridge), built in 1788 - which gives you and idea of how old the other bridges in the town are! There were pigeons nesting in the cliffs and choughs nesting under the bridge. I'd never seen choughs before, just photos. They look like blackbirds with red beaks. I knew this, I just never knew quite how red their beaks were! They were so instantly recognisable, it was great to be able to identify this new birds without needing to look in any books (especially as I didn't have any with me!).
We had a fantastic day in Ronda. I bought my first (and only) souvenirs - a bowl hand-painted with a beautifully bright fish and a lovely table runner with squares of differing embroidery. We headed back to our beds exhausted but happy, and really looking forward to getting to Gibraltar the next day.
Ronda's one of the White Towns - towns in the hills where all the houses are whitewashed so they are very visible from a distance. Ronda's probably the largest and oldest of the towns, with large parts dating back to the times of the Moors.
The town is built on the side of a gorge, which was used in times past as a quick and easy execution site (simply chuck people over the side). Now it's got fencing to prevent tourists slipping over and looks out across a vast expanse of farmland.
It is possibly most famous for it's bullring - one of the oldest in Spain. I went in, mainly because mum and Steve had already gone in and I didn't want to stand around waiting half an hour for them. I don't like the idea of bullfighting. I think it's barbaric, and I didn't want to give any money or implicit show of support to it, but in the end I caved and tried to convince myself I was there because it's a historic and cultural site. It is, but it's also the place where several thousand people come to watch animals being slowly and painfully killed solely for entertainment.It was quite interesting all the same. Apparently all the military cavalry is trained there and there was an amazing collection of livery and harness from the French royalty. In fact there was very little mention of the bloodshed.
Ronda was a beautiful town. Although it was full of tourists it didn't feel 'touristy'. I doubt it would be as well-kept or populous if it wasn't for tourism but it felt, for the first time, like we were in real Spain. Fuengirola and Malaga were so intent on getting tourists to feel at home (why go on holiday if you want everything to be like at home?) that getting simple things like a tortilla were proving next to impossible. Ronda, in contrast, seemed proud of being Spanish and producing Spanish food and drink. It gave an (idealised) view of Spain whereas down on the coastthere seemed to be a concerted effort to make people feel like they'd never left the UK. Blackpool with more sun.
We lunched next to the Puente Nuevo (new Bridge), built in 1788 - which gives you and idea of how old the other bridges in the town are! There were pigeons nesting in the cliffs and choughs nesting under the bridge. I'd never seen choughs before, just photos. They look like blackbirds with red beaks. I knew this, I just never knew quite how red their beaks were! They were so instantly recognisable, it was great to be able to identify this new birds without needing to look in any books (especially as I didn't have any with me!).
We had a fantastic day in Ronda. I bought my first (and only) souvenirs - a bowl hand-painted with a beautifully bright fish and a lovely table runner with squares of differing embroidery. We headed back to our beds exhausted but happy, and really looking forward to getting to Gibraltar the next day.
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