Our driver, Francisco Jimenez, meets us in our hotel lobby for the two hour ride to Ronda.
He is enthusiastic and gracious, assuring us that stopping at any time along the way is welcome. He enjoys pointing out the sites along the way, most especially the football stadium just outside Sevilla's city limits.
The landscape along the route starts out as small rolling hills covered in acres and acres of olive trees and a few pueblos blancos. Olives are not ripe for picking until October, so there is not much activity to see. Interesting to note that Spain exports its olives to Italy as they export their olives and olive oil to the world. Pueblos blancos are small villages and towns nestled in the mountains whitewashed in the Moorish tradition.
As we near the city of Ronda, these rolling hills grow into the arid Serrania de Ronda mountains where sentinel Spanish fir dot the landscape. Paradoxically, large bodies of crystal blue waters shimmer at the base. We continue our journey, stopping at Francisco's house to change from the Puegeot he drove in Sevilla to the official Mercedes taxi he drives into Ronda.
He kisses his bride farewell and we are off to the ancient city of Ronda. It sits on a massive rocky outcrop straddling the River Guadalevin cutting the town in half. Time has created a deep canyon or Tajo that defines the town geographically and, over time, three bridges have been built to cross the gorge.
This city has been the crossroads of many cultures over its long history, The Celts called it Arunda, the Romans called it Acinipo and the Moors called it Izn-Rand Onda. As a result of its impregnable geography, it was among the last Moorish cities to fall to the Christians in 1485. During the Spanish Inquisition, when all Jews and Moors were banished from Spain, Ronda became a refuge for Moriscos seeking safety. Later, in 1566, Philip II decreed all use of Arabic language illegal. This gave rise to a rebellion, lead by Ronda's Al-Fihrey, and resulted in the expulsion of all Moriscos from Ronda.
It is famous for being a home to Ernest Hemingway, Orson Welles and Rainer Maria Rilke. Orson Welles is buried on property owned by the famous bullfighter, Antonio Ordonez.
George Eliot's Daniel Deronda tells the story of a Spanish Jew raised as an Englishman.
It is speculated that Eliot's ancestors may have been Jews living in Ronda until 1492 when Jews were expelled from Spain.
In short order, we are delivered to the Parador de Ronda on the city's main plaza directly across from the Puente Nueve and the Tajo. It is cold, raw and rainy but the view is still stunning. It is made more dramatic by the dark clouds rolling in over the mountains.
We find our way to our overnight digs and are astonished to discover we are in a duplex suite. This lodging is on two floors with two full bathrooms, two TVs, two balconies. The master bedroom looks out on the mountains and, if the weather were better, offers a perfect place to sunbathe and dine in private.
After regaining our composure, we remember that we need more euros which the ATM at Santander Bank dispenses just before the two o'clock closing time. We meet a British family doing the same thing and we enjoy a humorous conversation in English in real time.
Now we need food and fast so we go to the hotel restaurant for the usual six cheese platter and cortados. Bellies full we head out to explore the town. We walk over the Puente Nueve
onto the Arminan where shops are open for the tourist trade. We stroll along the alley past whitewashed buildings and windows decorated with ironwork and geraniums. We see the Iglesia de Santa Maria la Mayor and wander through the plaza to another vista view.
It is cold and we are tired so our promenade is shorter than usual and we return for a rest before heading to a mediocre dinner in the hotel. We retire, having left our baggage on the first floor, ready to meet Francisco in the morning.
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