Yesterday we took a drive out to the White Villages and Ronda. It rained most of the day. Dribbly, wet rain. Not good for sauntering around villages. All told, we drove for about 6 hours, there and back. Actually, we didn’t drive. Driss, our guide, did the driving for us.

Along the ride we past rolling hills covered in wheat, sunflowers, and olive trees. Evidently when Franco came into power he decided this area would be devoted to agriculture and embarked on an ecological nightmare clearing the area of original forest to create suite arable farmland for large scale cultivation.

The first village on the trip was Zahara de la Sierra, nestled in the top of a mountain and one of a series of watch points to protect the valley from invaders.

Listen to the bells chime.

Flowers everywhere

Next it was on to Grazalema

The village was preparing for their own “running of the bulls” festival, hanging flags overhead. As Driss said, “For Sainard’s, anytime there is an excuse for a festival, we party.”

We stopped in a cheese shop and sampled local fair, then on to a restaurant for lunch. We had wild boar stew. Evidently there is a hunter in the next village over who provides the meat from his own kills. The stew was delicious.

Back into the car, we headed for Ronda. As Driss put it, “The place has become overrun with tourist.” There are museums for every taste including one devoted completely to watches, each of them charging the tourist a hefty admission. Of course, there is THEE bridge. The Puente Nuevo is the tallest of the bridges, towering 120 m (390 ft) above the canyon floor.

The old gates to the city.

One last stop for a glass of wine and a view.

Today we take the train to Granada.