Andalucia, a region in southern Spain, is well know for its beauty. “White villages” abound, and Frigiliana was voted by the Spanish Tourist Board as the “prettiest village in Andalucia” – so of course, in my imaginary road trip along the winding back roads, seated in my fab 1948 Alfa Romeo 6C 2500 Sport Cabriolet, we drove with reckless abandon to Frigiliana.
Winding roads, winding streets, winding walkways – all a far cry from the freeways of Southern California!
Located in the province of Malaga in southern Spain, Ronda is about 65 miles northwest of Malaga, Spain. It is a “white village” located in Andalusia – a vast region along the Mediterranean and inland – but it is more than just a “white village” as it is home to what I think is one of the most fascinating bits of architecture, the Puente Nuevo. We will explore that famous bridge later on, but for now, let us just enjoy the magnificent scenery of this lovely place.
Ronda has been settled since neolithic times, but the 6th century seems to be when itself became a more settled area. It is marked by cliffs and canyons, as you can see below, but it is also built up on either side of the Guadalevin river. As the countryside is steep, getting from one side of the river to the other is a bit problematic.
These buildings are on one side of the Puente Nuevo. They stand on steep cliffs. As someone without a head for heights, I am not so sure I would want to stand on a balcony and look down – but I think looking across would show some marvelous scenery. Also, coming from earthquake country with unstable soil, my thoughts are, oops! – why did they build there? However, I expect things are far more stable than they are in my neck of the woods as this is an area where a bridge spanning a canyon 400 feet deep and completed in 1793 still stands.
So much to see in the south of Spain! To be continued!
Lisbon is a very hilly city! Can you imagine huffing and puffing your way home, to the market, to the sea, to the museum, to the doctor, to the park, to your mother’s Sunday dinner, to anywhere?
No?
Me neither. (My days of training for the Olympics are long gone.)
Enter the tram. To learn about the history of the tram in Lisbon, Portugal, Wikipedia has an interesting and fascinating article. Some of them are two-way, meaning one on the left and right of a main street, and others, such as this one, go one way up and down narrow, winding roads.
I am sure that there are many things which typify Lisbon, but for me, a tram ride would be my first thought. This way you can see the streets of the city, look at houses and architecture, see people away from tourist spots. A single track – such as here – chugging through they neighborhood – with very narrow sidewalks on either side makes, in my imagination, for a rather scary experience. And cars in front of such a tram? A child chasing a ball? How fast do these trams go?
My mother recalled the electric buses which ran throughout Chicago and its environs as a kid. It was often the only way to get anywhere for most people. Horse-drawn ice wagons, too, are part of her childhood memories, as were the Cossacks on horseback in Poland those of her parents. I have driven since 16, and have used public transportation very little. Cars are my way of scooting around. However, the cable cars in San Francisco are world-famous and first class fun – I would take those any day. But, for now, I must suffice myself with an imaginary ride on a tram up and down the hills of Lisbon.
So . . . we continue at sea, bypassing A Coruna and visiting Lisbon and Porto (oops! I forgot my sketches of Lisbon!) before heading east into the Strait of Gibraltar and heading into the Mediterranean. If I recall my geography and geology, Africa and Europe were once connected here, which is why the famous monkeys of the Rock of Gibraltar exist today. And the Rock of Gibraltar, an English outpost on the tip of southern Spain, dominates the scenery as you sail through. Cruise ships land here, and while we did not, let us pretend we did (since this whole Not Taken Vacation is imaginary) to climb the rock and see the sites.
From the sea, the Rock of Gibraltar rises up, formidable, stately. At times it is shrouded in clouds, other times sharp and crisp against the sky, or softened by moist sea air. Beneath, at the water’s edge, is where people live. Apartments and houses are expensive. Spaniards cross the border daily to work for higher wages but not getting the social benefits such as pensions (my understanding) that they would pay into if working in Spain. English and Spanish are spoken here, and while English is the dominant language, Spanish is not a bad thing to know.
There is a lot of history and a lot to see in Gibraltar. I chose to climb upward to see what I could see. Africa to the south. Coastlines to the east, mountains to the north. And monkeys! Really, Barbary Macaques, which are protected and the unofficial national animal of Gibraltar. They are friendly – but they do bite!
I sat here awhile, visiting with and ignoring the macaques, watching the world below and above, basking in the sun, and thinking up a song of “basking with macaques” which will soon make it to the Top 10 list of rock-n-roll songs.
Sailing along the Iberian Peninsula, missing A Coruna, we stop in Porto, Lisbon. What a beautiful place it is! Buildings, sky, sea, people, scenery. And a marketplace, of course, cuz people gotta eat!
Ink, Yarn & Beer 