In the beginning of this trip, Matt and I ran into a couple of Belgians who very strongly urged me not to miss Ronda.

Usually, random tips send me to the best places. This time, not so much. The drive up there was lovely, big curving mountain roads, splendid views of the Costa del Sol then mountains of a national park. Ronda itself is much larger than we expected, but the old part of town was as picturesque as anticipated. Unfortunately, it is practically Disneyland. Busloads of tourists from all over the globe, following their umbrella-wielding guides. I haven’t seen (heard) so many Americans in one place since arriving on this peninsula. I got stuck in a large group of Japanese tourists who crowded into the tiny piece of shade I’d been enjoying. Not that I minded. They left eventually and I was still cooler than I would have been if I’d moved out of the shade just because they crowded in.

We had to drive through the thick of it first, trying to figure out where to park.

Finally we found a place, locked our helmets and outerwear to the bikes with bike locks, and set off. FIrst stop, a cafe with a lovely view, where we had a very overpriced drink. Still, it was nice to take a break.

Then we wandered up and through some of the windy lovely streets, admiring various landmarks and monuments.

Eventually, I decided I was hungry, and led us to a tapas bar out of the main area, where we had a very cheap wide variety of yummy nibbles with some beer. We both felt we’d had enough of wandering, but we finished up the visit with a trip to see the bridge from a different angle. Lovely!

And then we drove back down the mountain, to the coast and our lovely campsite. We talked to the couple camped next to us for a while, had a swim in the pool, dinner in the restaurant, and are now enjoying sangria before bed. Salud!

Carmona. A charming looking place with not at all charming people. Thank goodness our waiter last night was pretty nice, because otherwise pretty much every one else seemed like they suck on lemons all the time. Puckered, unhappy faces. Unpleasant. Scolding and nasty. We were happy to pass the no-more-Carmona sign. I did a whoop and waved my arm in the air. Lynn did the same. Well, the arm, anyway.

We took the freeway south, passing by Seville’s ugly urban sprawl and then Jerez where sherry is produced. When we started traveling east at the coast, I realised that my trip was now officially onto the “return” leg. Other moments of east were just part of the exploring or part of the coordinating with people. This time, I won’t be going west again in any significant way.

Costa del Sol!

Our campsite is charming. Very nice plots with lots of wonderful plants and palm trees, a gorgeous covered pool, a decent if unexciting restaurant, lots of friendly stray cats, an adequate little store, walking distance to the beach.

So of course we went to the beach. It was a bit rocky, but I got in the water. I didn’t swim, but I played in the waves up to my chest. Lynn had forgotten to change into her suit, so she watched from the shore.

Afterwards, we had a cocktail at the beach bar we had planned on enjoying for dinner.

That bar had a private party for the evening, however, so we walked further for a full meal a bit down the beach. I had a freshly wood-grilled dorade and Lynn the grilled squid.

We are realising how different our food patterns are, and how they are in comparison with Spanish custom. Lynn, for example, usually has a light breakfast at 07:15, a light lunch between 11-12 and a full dinner pretty early. At home, I usually have a light breakfast about 8:30 or 9, a moderate lunch between 12-2, and various sized dinners after 19:00. Usually more like 20:30 or 21:00. So I’ve become rather happy with the relatively light bread-based breakfasts at 09:00ish here, then a big lunch between 14:00-16:30, then very light dinners, for example just the free tapas that come with your beer (1 or 2) in the evenings after 20:00.

Since Lynn has arrived, which is just a couple of days, the past 2 nights we’ve eaten full dinners in the evenings. However, since the kitchens aren’t open until 20:00, we aren’t done eating until 22:00 or even 23:00, which is too late for me to comfortably digest that much food. So I’m not sleeping very well.

Dinner was delicious tonight, but I am skipping dessert (no!!) in hopes of digesting better. We’ll see. And I’ve announced that I’m sleeping in a little tomorrow. I might not get out of my tent until 09:30. We’ll see.

We headed south today, towards Andalusia. The beginning was wonderful, curvy roads and walnut trees, lots of wild herbs and flowers.

Soon before we crossed into Andalusia, I spotted a ruined castle on a hill. As the road curved through a town, there was a sign pointing up a road that went up there. The road became a gravel road. The gravel road led us to this:

To be clear, this is NOT the castle we had seen from the road. However, it was adorable, and there was a narrower, steeper road to it, paved with loose large stones and patched with red loose clay-like powder. After a discussion, we decided to try it.

I got up to right beside it, with much difficulty, but it was very strange. Decorated with witch-shaped weather vanes and fake skulls, I decided it was probably some kind of fun-castle. I could see the ruin we had wanted further on. However, the road was too bad. I carefully turned my bike around and walked it, careful step by careful step, back down the hill. Lynn walked up to spot me. She had gotten stuck trying to turn around on the first road, so we chalked this whole experience up as “tourism follies.”

Most of the rest of the day was pretty dull. The roads were pleasantly curving, but there weren’t many interesting things to look at. Lots of flat farms, modern, unspectacular. We drove past Cordoba.

Eventually we got to our day’s destination, Carmona, where there is an excellently well-preserved Roman necropolis.

We were allowed to walk around in it, and even climb a ladder into one of the tombs!

After some time at the necropolis and its adjoining museum, we utilized Booking.com and TripAdvisor to make some dining and hotel decisions, after discovering that unlike EVERY other area I’ve driven through, there was no campsite anywhere nearby. The town looked nice, though.

Our hotel was a little difficult. It’s adorable, a 14th century mansion converted into a comfortable modern hotel. However, I have never been treated so rudely as I was by the Dutch woman who owns it. I won’t go into details, but I was really flustered. It’s morning now, and she doesn’t seem to be here, and everything is quite pleasant, but wow. I don’t know what about me she had taken a dislike to, but she definitely had decided I was an undesired occupant in her hotel. She was happy enough to take my money, though.

For dinner, we walked through town and all the way back out, to a place we had selected based on excellent TripAdvisor reviews. We were the only diners, but received excellent service from the waiter, and the food was delicious. We walked back full and happy.

Such a rough life. 😀

I awoke, as expected, to the sound of small children shrieking, but my earplugs had done a stellar job. I slept through it for probably a good long while.

My first night alone in my tent (due to weather more than anything) was super comfy. I have hacked the intended use of the sheet to make myself quite the cozy giant cave. No bag claustrophobia for this girl!

Lynn called while I was trying to decide between breakfast in the cafe or just make coffee at my tent, so I made coffee at my tent. I’m nearly out of my second bag of coffee, but she’ll bring some today, so that’s fine. There was a supermarket near her hotel.

The GB camper next to me turns out to be from Sheffield, and very talkative. He and his wife are doing some bird-watching. They are very nice neighbors. There are almost none of us left now, with the holiday weekend almost over. Most of the Dutchies, that pair, maybe 2 Spanish families, and me.

I decided to make a distance trek for chain lube (the station at the bottom of the hill has it, but what’s the fun of that?), so drove about an hour and a half to another gas station in another small village. I also bought car shampoo and gave the bike a good wash, which seemed to amuse all the locals drinking beer on terraces.

Here are some lovely views from the day.

After that, I set the TomTom for a different route back, essentially making a big loop.

I stopped at the gas station at the bottom of the hill anyway, to see if they had anything in the way of decent groceries, since the other one, which boasted a supermarket, sold almost nothing of any use. Neither did this one. I bought two individual packages of cookies and went back to the campsite.

What a gorgeous afternoon. I munched cookies and drank water in my bikini while tending to some packing changes and bike maintenance. Then I shade-bathed under a tree by the pool for a while. Eventually I got peckish, and decided to go to the cafe for a little bite and some beer. It was open all afternoon yesterday (I got in around this time yesterday).

Unfortunately, the kitchen was closed. A glass of beer is always served with a little nibble, but I really hoped for a small sandwich or something. I guess I looked suitably desperate, because the waiter decided to whip me up a gigantic plate of paella and a basket of bread.

So now I wait for Lynn!
she got in pretty late, but yay!

I was a bit sleep-deprived today. Last night the tiny town filled with old people taking cures transformed into an all-night DJ party. I’m not kidding. When I woke up from the intense noise of some of my guest house neighbors, there was still music playing loudly in the village. And then the marching band started up. All this with earplugs in. I didn’t sleep well.

So it’s not surprising that my Spanish wasn’t very good today, or that I was a bit irritable. I stopped soon, in Placensia, to check out the textile museum and have a coffee.

Feeling slightly better, I continued on a leisurely route to Oropesa. Apparently, this is the town responsible for the term, “worth your/his/her/its weight in gold.” It got a pretty boring write-up in my guidebook, but was actually lovely. I had lunch and a nice walk around the castle and part of the town.

After that it was go-go-go, but via small roads and very minor highways. Some of it was gorgeous, a little of it was a little stressful (bumpy patched roads), and I nearly ran out of gas.

Fortunately, there is a Pepsol station in the small town at the bottom of the hill where my campsite is.

Here’s the campsite view!

Here’s my patch. About 2 hours after I took this picture, the empty space on the right was inhabited by a family in a camper van. Those kids scream constantly. I am hiding in the restaurant, and they are with their parents on the terrace, still hooting and making loud screeching noises. I wonder if my earplugs will be up to THIS task. (note: they were, and the family is leaving today, hurray!)

Anyway, the pool was nice. I had a proper swim just after everyone went off to start dinner preparation, so it was empty! The joy! There are also lots of Dutch people here, so I’ve been speaking Dutch, then Spanish, then Dutch with Spanish mixed in. I MUST be tired. There are people from Great Britain to my left, but I haven’t chatted with them yet (hence reference only to their country), just said Hola.

Tomorrow Lynn L joins me here, and we will continue on to southern Spain! 🙂 The weather looks quite promising.

Last year, Matt and I traveled to Portugal for the first time–a weekend trip to Oporto. I love port wine, and we’d gotten some recommendations from our local wine supplier about things to do while there.

The first day was fabulous, but the second day it rained so much we didn’t get to do much more than hang out in various bars drinking and munching.

I’m starting to think that’s all Portugal has in store for me.

Part of why I planned this trip was because visiting Oporto had made me interested in traveling the Douro valley, which is the river upon whose mouth Oporto and its sister city sit. I wanted to motorcycle around, spend a few extra days, try the other wines produced here.

The rain made that idea insane. Instead, Dick and I booked an all day tour with Paulo. Paulo’s family bought a wine-producing farm about 30 years ago, as a hobby. He himself (our age), studied and taught mechanics and sustainable energy, but the crisis hit and he couldn’t get enough work to support his family.

His family’s farm, on the other hand, was doing very well, winning some awards. So he thought he’d take tourists on his boat (he had a smaller one then, which he still has), and to his farm, and serve lunch on the farm, and whatever else they’d like to see.

This business has flourished, and Paulo was awesome fun.

He picked us up at our campsite in the morning, and drove us to where he boat is docked in Pinhao. We traveled downriver in heavy current (the dam is open because of so much rainfall), drinking port wine his friend makes. It took us much longer to get back, against the current, and the rain started, but we weren’t bothered.

Then he drove us to his family’s farm, where we had a tour of the wine-producing process. His family only occasionally makes port wine, but has a white table wine (actually intended for on boats, nice and light), and a couple of different reds, and has also produced some special wines for particular events. All the labels have special stories.

He showed us his own little wine-making, which he does for fun alongside his parents’ larger operation.

We had lunch in the converted church on the property. It was a strange place. No one lives there, but it’s made up to look like a home. All the windows face north because it keeps it cooler in the summer. We tried all of the wines and also the port.

After lunch, we walked around in the vineyards and played with the dogs. Then we drove back into Pinhao, where we had coffee at a cafe Paulo likes to hang out in.

Finally, he asked what we were planning on doing for dinner, and when we said we were hoping he could drop us in Vila Real somewhere, where we could eat and then taxi back, he suggested we go to his favorite place altogether. We had very tasty francesinhas (a sort of over-the-top toasty, possibly a Portuguese interpretation of a croque monsieur — look it up), and lots of beer.

All in all, it was a great day, and redeemed Portugal for us. We still planned on getting the hell out of the country the next day, though.