Driving Ms. Ronda

Because most businesses in Spain are closed on Sundays, we choose to eat the very expensive hotel breakfast. We pay roughly $15 each for a buffet of deli meats, pasteries, toast, cheese and some cereals. The first surprise was the chorizo, a cured (not cooked) ham leg that takes some getting used to. The second surprise was the coffee. Spanish coffee is 50% black nasty tar mixed with 50% steaming hot milk. No amount of sugar will make it taste good.

So with a belly full of donut, we depart for Ronda, traveling through the costal tourist-trap that is Marbella to ascend into the mountains and onto the plains of Spain. The drive is dangerous and beautiful, like most things Spanish. Marbella is like a gigantic version of Myrtle Beach and Ronda is like a very humble Breckenridge, Colorado. Ronda´s charm stems from its premiere bullring and unique style of flamenco. Only a week ago, this village was crawling with tourists for the annual bullfights, but now the streets are rather vacant and I quickly find myself in love with this gem of a city. It is hard to take a bad picture when tourists wearing big hats aren´t walking through your shots.

Like most places we´ve been, Ronda is paved entirely with cobblestones. It is an ancient city and stood as one of the last Moslem fortresses in Spain. Here you can find the oldest Arab Bath House, used to purify those entering and leaving the city.

There are no human beggars in Ronda, onl cats and dogs, some of which are in costume. One particular mixed chiuahua sports a black leather bandelero, complete with biker studs. At night, when the traffic has subsided, the dogs can be seen making their rounds from restaurant to restaurant with the determined gate of someone who is late for an appointment.

We will stay in Ronda for two nights. Our hotel is 4 stars and sits on the edge of a cliff which over looks breath-taking sunsets. Our room is spacious and has a blacony complete with patio furniture that views the pool and the city.

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