Andalucia's Hill Towns, The Land of Ferdinand

Once upon a time in Spain...

We traveled by car from Seville to Granada, through the land of Ferdinand - one of my favorite children's books.  And on the way, we visited the hill town of Zahara, which, I'm pretty sure, was the model for the very first page of that little book about a peaceful, introverted bull.

Zahara is like a fairytale - isolated and absolutely untouched by sprawl.  The same cluster of whitewashed buildings zig-zagging up to the fortress on the hill as were there hundred of years ago.

I'm very proud to say that at seven months pregnant, I totally climbed that hill all the way to the top of that fortress tower.  Standing up there looking out into the impossibly blue lake (look at that picture!) and white buildings below, I realized...it was totally worth feeling like I was going to die trying to make that hike while seven months pregnant and in a dress.

We didn't stay long in Zahara - just a couple hours to climb the hill and gawk at its time-capsule-other-worldliness.  And then we were back on a road that kept winding up and up through the mountains and then back down through the tiny, hidden hill town of Grazalema.  

(Our only picture of Grazalema)

Grazalema isn't nearly as stunning to see as Zahara, but it is an adventure trying to drive a tiny tiny  manual rental car down and up through its even tinier whitewashed and completely un-signanged roads.  It was a tense five minutes, we try not to dwell on that time.  But the drive out of Grazalema to Ronda (perhaps the most "touristy" hill town) was through miles and miles of cork trees.

Cork trees!  Like in Ferdinand!  It actually took us a while (and some rifling through our guide book) to figure out they were cork trees in the first place.  I hadn't fully realized that cork is harvested from the bark or right below the bark, so we saw miles and miles of giant trees with a strip cut around their middles or all the way from half of the trunk through the larger branches, exposing the rich reddish wood beneath and it was so fascinating.  ...This is hard to explain, I'm going to go look for a picture:

Like this!  For miles and miles!  It was beautiful.

We had saved Ronda for the end 1) because...it was just the last hill town on the way to Granada.... but 2) It was supposed to be the best one.

Mehhhhhhhhhhh Ronda.  Sure, it was an old town built up high...but just on a big bluff.  Meh.  And then its most famous draw - its medieval gorge bridge (which makes an appearance in Ferdinand!) - was completely not anywhere.  We drove literally three times all the way around that bluff with a GPS and trying to follow any signs and never saw even a tiny glimpse of anything that could possibly be that bridge.

I know it exists.  I've seen it in Ferdinand!  (And friends' travel pictures) But dag nabbit....it just decided to not exist for us that day.

But actually, that was totally fine because we now knew for sure that we had seen the best hill town in Andalusia, hands down - Zahara.  So we let it go and left Ronda for a final few hours through that dry Mediterranean landscape (strangely reminiscent of... central Utah?) and onward to Granada (!!).

(Where is this bridge, Ronda??)

Fairytale Zahara

A Few More Memories of Seville

Today I got to thinking about blogs.  And remembered how important it is that I finish out as many Europe memories as I can here, even one year after moving back to the states.   Because the longer I wait, the harder it will be to remember the little things.

So, before I move on from Seville, here are a few more memories to archive away:

* Paul had done some extensive research before we left for Spain, finding the best ice cream in town.  One night he said he had a surprise and we walked what felt like, to my seven-months-pregnant self, three miles (it was actually only 1/3 of a mile), and took me to La Fiorentina as an anniversary gift.  It was amazing, highly recommended.  We went twice in the two days we were there.

* Seeing orange trees for the first time in my life.  And learning that most of these particular orange trees produced inedible fruit.

*Getting "lost" back in the medieval quarter and coming on a little street filled with heirloom baby clothes stores.  A lot of custom tailors for baptism gowns and the like.  I'm still heartbroken that I didn't pony up a wad of euros to get a little shirt/shorts/shoes set I saw and fell in love with - later I saw almost an exact replica of it (instead of in blue, in red) on little Prince George at his sister's christening and thought, "Dag nabbit.  Missed it."

*The intricate ironwork.  Fountains, street lights, window grates, everywhere.

* This convent right next to the Cathedral.  The nuns there are completely cloistered, but you can buy cookies from them by using a kind of transaction lazy susan in the wall.  You put your money on the tray, turn it so it goes inside.  Then they take your money, put cookies on the tray, and turn it back to the outside.

* Please note our ubiquitous Rick Steves guide book.  Never leave home (to Europe) without it.

* This world map!

* And a smattering of tiny other moments - seeing the ancient lead pipes still in place from the Roman aqueducts, sleeping in so late because of the complete darkness achieved with solid wood shutters, almost leaving my purse (with our passports) in a taxi on our way to the train station, being surprised at how small the famous bull ring looked, being surprised that this was the first country we'd been to where people generally did not speak (or try to speak) English with us (I always thought it would be France or something), the huge hanging racks of curing ham (jamon) from the ceiling rafters in almost every restaurant and the little cones beneath them that caught melting fat, tapas (legit ones), waiting out a rainstorm under a tiny porch on an even narrower medieval street, a city hall that looked exactly like Odense's, the largest and most gilt altarpiece I'd ever seen (biggest in the world, turns out), going to the Alcazar and standing in the reception hall where Christopher Columbus returned and gave his "hey, found something" report to Isabel and Ferdinand, and the very, very, very first time I ever heard Paul say a swear word.