Cats of Spain

I can not even say how happy I was to see Karolyn and Bryan. We had taken a lousy overnight train from the middle of France and woken to a dreary, chilly day in Madrid. We waited inside the parking lot of the train station for K&B to arrive from the airport and soon they pulled up in a Fiat "Van of the Year". It was not a large vehicle by American standards but it proved quite big indeed later in the day.

We were positively giddy as we made our way through Spain. The landscape was colourless and industrial but we were happy to be travelling in Spain together! While speculating as to whether we were even on the right road, the city of Toledo suddenly loomed on a hilltop before us. We were on a mission for the world's best marzipan so we drove up to the old city to park and walk around. Only there weren't a great many places to park and the signs led us in circles. On our third circle around a particular area Bryan decided to be proactive and pulled off a road that was closed to non-residents. Soon we found out why. It was about the width of a deck of cards. As we passed people had to crowd into doorways and we had to pull in the side mirrors. You can witness some of the terror here:


In the end we found the most delicious marzipan imaginable and headed off for Granada.

With MUCH difficulty we checked into the Best Western of Granada (they were insistent that we needed two separate rooms and there was no way four people could share two large beds). Then we were off to enjoy the extraordinary nightlife of the city. Bryan took us on a whirlwind walking tour of food and drink. We hit probably five tapas bars, ordered a vino tinto or three and were presented with piles of roasted vegetables or tortillas or cheese or fried seafood or flaming chorizo! Each bar was more crowded than the next and we fought for space to stand, never mind sit. The air was damp and warm as we tried to decipher street names and establishment signs. Karolyn smashed a sour orange growing on the busy streets into my mouth, but I forgave her almost immediately. That is the depth of joy we were experiencing in Granada. We were insanely happy by the time we wandered back to the hotel.

Next day after a spectacular and disastrous tour of the Alhambra (don't ever let them convince you that they are handicapped accessible), we drove in the general direction of the Costa del Sol. The landscape changed rapidly; the plains and vineyards rose into the Sierra Nevada ranges and then the Mediterranean opened up before us. We stopped in Nerja along the coast for a break and a meal. This was our first chance to walk through the streets of a typical, whitewashed Mediterranean town and it did not disappoint. The contrast in colours from the verdure of the mountains, along the stark white buildings, down to the golden sand and then the sea with its multitude of blues was stunning.

We arrived to the resort later in the afternoon and I felt so relieved to have a space to unpack and relax. The place was amazing and had great amenities for a weary traveller. It made a wonderful base from which to make our incredible day trips.

First up was Ronda for which we slowly ascended narrow roads behind lethargic lorries and frustrated commuters. Twisting around the mountains we could occasionally glimpse the sea behind us or the glimmer of a white village set in the distance ahead. Ronda's big draw is the dramatic drop of the gorge, which cuts through the center of the town. We girls sat at a gorge-side restaurant for a drink while Bryan climbed the 100s of ancient steps to the base of the stone. The weather was bright, if a bit cold, and we drove away feeling satiated from the delicious specialties we sampled at several restaurants. I loved the brief respite of sitting at a tapas bar with a drink and a small plate and then moving to a different setting and selection.

The drive down was far more eventful than the climb. The road was even more narrow, if possible, and it passed under the canopy of trees and wound more aggressively along the mountain. We passed through Atajate, a village built on a remarkable, unimaginable vertical slope down the mountain. As the sun began to sink behind the ranges the road fell under a heavy cloud and it seemed we were driving in the sky.

The next day we went to Gibraltar. It was exciting to see the rock appear as we drove closer to the British-owned peninsula. The "border crossing" was uneventful and we took a tour of the sights to make things fast and simple. The highlight of the tour was at the summit of the upper rock, where a small monkey jumped on Jessica's head.
Afterwards we had fish and chips and Bryan and Jessica had a few pints in the strange pubs. It was disconcerting to withdraw British sterling from the cash machines (which we would be unable to use anywhere but in Gibraltar). Overall it was an interesting place to visit, but not one I have the desire to see again.

On Friday we visited Malaga and the Picasso museum. Both were beautiful. The city was gearing up for Carnaval and the signs and street decoration made me wish we had more time for exploration and revelry.

Saturday Karolyn and Bryan were leaving so the day was low key. We dipped our bodies into the frigid Mediterranean for a moment. Yikes. We went to the Estepona pier for paella before they drove back to Madrid and enjoyed the sun but not the unattended child who chucked dirt and stones at Jessica's head.

Sunday we checked out after a frantic packing job. The hotel suite was so incredibly comfortable that it had encouraged us to spread our possessions around the rooms in a seriously irresponsible manner. After making our way to San Pedro we boarded a bus for Algeciras. Without incident we bought our ferry tickets and set out for the continent of Africa.