RONDA, SPAIN -- April 22, 2006I leave for Ronda via the train early this morning, enjoying 30 minutes of silence before a load of noisy Spanish daytrippers descend on my railcar and fill it with the rising din of their exuberant voices. At 10:00 AM I am at the station, with not a map to my name, and no idea how to find my hotel or anything worth seeing in Ronda.
I am here on good recommen- dation only. The town will be mine to explore, sans guidebook. I head off in the general direction of the bus station, and am more than fortunate to stumble across a sign posting the direction of my hotel.
After dropping off my bag, I begin my wanderings, and end up at a beautiful lookout point, staring up into the side of the gorge upon which this ages-old Spanish city has been built. I munch on the remaining strawberries from Granada's fresh produce market, and bask in the beauty of this Andalusian hilltown which is beginning to gleam in the rising sun.
I follow a few daytrippers as they linger at "my" lookout point and then continue around the bend. For several hours, I meander through the cobblestone streets of Ronda, peering out beyond whitewashed houses and over rolling hillsides to distant mountains beyond.
I find a trail leading down towards the base of the gorge, and spend a good hour or so hiking down, down, down, pausing here and there along the way to enjoy the smell and sight of the wildflowers blossoming along the trail. I stand in awe of the majestic sight before my eyes of this Andalusian village peeking out through the stories-tall arch standing before me. Ronda has been a treasure to discover, and has left me with lasting images of its rustic charm and striking beauty.~Melanie
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