Ronda was a surprise for all of us. It was a few days after Christmas, 2007, and my family was driving along the coast of Spain to celebrate in Malaga. I was so excited to experience a new part of the country, that I had been living in, with my mom, dad and little brother, that I had hardly researched where we were going at all.
In fact, I remember being a little upset that we had to cram into a tiny car and go for a long drive on a curvy road while sharing the back seat with a brother who could pass for a professional basketball player in size (and smell- sorry Will, but your feet were really stinky). I also remember thinking that although lunch looked delicious– my parents split a meat-lover type of platter-of-goodness– all my vegetarian self could eat was a potato.
All frustrations aside, I was still happy to be with my family. Living abroad can be trying at times and having the people around you who love you the most in the world is comforting to say the least. Anyway, back to Ronda.
We parked the car and walked through a plaza, not expecting a thing. This would become one of those moments where I would be most thankful for my constant devotion to hauling my tiny camera around with me to grab a few picture memories, because just ahead of the peacock pen (what city, but Ronda, has public peacocks?) was the most amazing cite any of the four of us had ever ‘stumbled upon’.
The city was on top of the most gorgeous surprise cliffs. The sun was shining and we could see the farm land for miles around us. What was most funny was that none of us expected these massive canyons, so we were all absolutely amazed at their impressive stature. (Sorry to ruin the surprise for you, but I just had to share the story.)
We probably spent an hour just staring off in to the distance from the top of this canyon in pure awe before walking into the center of the city to see the three famous bridges, Puente Romano, Puente Viejo, y Puente Nuevo. These several hundred year old bridges connect the city and span the length of the canyon.
It really was a magical day. And I guess the moral of the story was that sometimes curvy roads in tiny cars, with stinky brother feet, are worth the trouble of unexpected wonders.
This is my favorite. It was New Years Day and we were all so hungover and less then thrilled (besides dad) to be driving in the mountains instead of sleeping in. Never sleep in.