Ronda

We’re heading back out on the road today and much of my night was spent in a cold sweat wondering how I was going to get the car safely out of the garage under the hotel. It took several 5-point turns and some outside assistance just to get our car into a spot unscathed and I vowed then that it was never leaving.

The one solace giving me hope is that by leaving before most people were awake, we’d avoid the risk of any traffic making an already tough job worse.
As the alarm rings, an incoherent string of mumbled words emanating from the pile of blankets next to me shatters that dream and any hope that we’ll be seeing the Alhambra today.

Fast forward several hours and the butterfly has emerged from her cocoon. We’ve adjusted our plans and are now headed to Ronda, a much shorter drive and on the way to Marbella, where we’re set to spend the final week of our time here.

The name may not ring many bells, but most people are familiar with this picture and the bridge that connects the two sides of this town on either side of the gorge:

It is a cool little spot with plenty of great scenery to take in.

The town is also famous for its bullfighting history and, for those who collect the trading cards, the birthplace of Pedro Romero, who ruled the ring in the late 1700s. I’m not much of an aficionado of the sport, but there is something to be said for anyone willing to face down 6,000 angry bulls all while wearing a tight, bedazzled suit.

It comes as some surprise (to me anyway) that bullfighting is still a thing here in Spain. Although far less frequent than in its heyday, it is still possible to hand over your hard earned money to watch a bull get slowly stabbed to death.

Before calling it an evening, we take a stroll back to the viewpoint for the bridge as it is tightly lit at night and deserving of a few more photos.