ON SOUTHERN SPAIN
To kick off Chapter Two of the Radical Sabbatical we eased into what can only be described as a divine three week vacation. After a grueling 40 hour travel day (may god bless airport lounges), we arrived in Cordoba where we began our journey through Southern Spain, spending 22 days exploring what most tourists dedicate just 6 days to. We arrived at the end of May, before the temperatures OR crowds began to soar and it was pure bliss.
Fast asleep in Beijing, hour 7 of a 9 hour layover
Southern Spain has an irresistible energy that epitomizes the essence of Mediterranean allure. Life moves at its own pace. The warmth of the golden sun bathes everything in a soft glow, casting long shadows across bustling markets and ancient cobblestone streets. Flamenco rhythms resonate through the air, echoing the spirit of the villages, while the aroma of cured meat and cigarette smoke inform wanderers of where best to indulge in the flavors that define the gastronomic scene. The fusion of Moorish architecture, olive groves, orange trees and turquoise waters creates an atmosphere of timelessness, inviting travelers to immerse themselves in a journey where they have time to sit down and take it all in.
Below are the highlights from each town we visited in Southern Spain.
Cordoba:
I feel like I have to say the Mezquita-Catedral because I’ve been dying to visit this building since 2008, when a high school Spanish teacher informed me of its existence. The Mezquita-Catedral started off as a mosque and was built back when Muslim rulers were in charge of the area. The original design was built with common features of mosques; a large open courtyard, a sahn which is meant for holding a big population, a minaret which is a tower from which the call to prayer is announced as well as many arches, intricate designs and tile work. When Christian rulers took over the area, they decided to keep the mosque, but turn it into a Christian cathedral. They added common Christian features like statues, chapels with pews, and a big altar right in the middle of the mosque. The building is a physical representation of what made me love Cordoba. The town is a total mish mash of culture’s where you can never quite get your bearings. Within a 30 minute span you’ll hear the call to prayer followed by the incessant ringing of church bells; the cobblestone streets are as equally littered with traditional tea houses as they are with tapas restaurants; is that jamón ibérico, shawarma or carne asada being shaved?!
Estepona:
Put simply, the highlight of Estepona was averaging 400 steps per day. We walked from our apartment to the pool to the seafront and then back…and usually not even that much in one day. After ~16 weeks on the go, it was glorious…and I mean GLORIOUS to unpack every single item in my 40L bag, hang everything up, wring everything out, put my bag away, and not move for 6 whole nights. After 10 weeks of eating out, it was Christmas to have Quintin back in the kitchen cooking for me. I relished the opportunity to wash the millions of unnecessary dishes he created. We had no plans. Nowhere we wanted to go, nothing we wanted to see, no restaurant we were dying to try. We perfected the art of sitting and doing nothing but stare at the ocean from our balcony. The precursor to us learning how to vacation like Europeans…
Frigiliana:
I probably should have started this blog post with Frigiliana because it was far and away my highlight of Andalucia. However, because I remain a Virgo, who is also Type A, my account of our journey must follow the route we took. Here’s what I’ll say. If you’re considering a trip to the south of Spain, I beg of you…do not miss Frigiliana. While it’s not as renowned as some of the other white villages, it’s better.
Like most of Andalucia, Frigiliana has Moorish origins and you can see the influence of Islamic architecture in its layout and design. Whitewashed buildings are adorned with colorful flower pots and decorative tiles, the streets are narrow, winding, and hilly, creating a maze-like effect that's fun to explore. The views of the Mediterranean will knock the breath out of you. These places provide a slower-paced, more traditional way of life where siesta is in FULL swing. Now, in addition to being a motomami, I am a siesta señorita. I love Frigiliana because there’s nothing to do aside from relish in the charm, meandering the streets and stopping for 5 to 10 little drinks per day, with a side of ice cream cone.
Little drinks = espresso, cappuccinos, tinto de verano small beers, wine, juices, tea…
The whole town of Frigiliana is a highlight, but my SPECIFIC HIGHLIGHT was a day hike we did to Acebuchal. Allow me to set the scene.
Anna had visited Frigiliana a few months before Quintin and my arrival and she recommended this hike. Blindly, we take her recommendation. 30 minutes into the hike I’m furiously cursing the day she was born. We are not hiking. We are WALKING on the side of the highway. The fuck does she have us out here walking on the highway for?! As we continue to drip in espresso stained sweat, on a wide open road, not a stitch of shade to be seen, the highway veers right and the answer reveals itself. The road narrows, and we’re flanked on all sides by olive groves, chili plants, lime and orange trees and finally, shade. As far as the eye can see you have the mediterranean sea and rolling valleys of farmland. We’re still walking along the side of the highway, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t the prettiest highway I’ve ever walked along.
Following several photo stops, we arrive in Acebuchal, a TINY, remote village, referred to as the Lost Village. In the 1940s, during the Spanish Civil War, the village was abandoned as its residents fled due to political unrest and conflict. It remained mostly deserted for several decades, slowly falling into disrepair. In the late 20th century a group of individuals, including some descendants of the original villagers, began the process of restoring Acebuchal and bringing it back to life. Today, Acebuchal boasts one single bar and one single restaurant which brings me to my highlight. The restaurant in Acebuchal serves the heartiest, most delicious loaf of bread I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing alongside a salad so big I could not finish it. A SALAD SO BIG I COULD NOT FINISH IT. Salad. Garnish…
Maybe it was the half loaf of husky boy bread I scarfed down before the salad arrived, but this was best, most colorful salad of my life. And what a life! A mediocre hike with the most extraordinary views, to end up in this utterly bizarre town, to be served a meal for the books! Stuffed with bread, fruit, veggies and nuts, we sloshed our way back to Frigiliana where we napped and then stuffed ourselves again. I envy even myself.
Ronda:
I’ll keep it short, sweet and touristy. The undisputed highlight of Ronda is admiring Puente Nuevo from every possible angle. When you arrive in Ronda, head straight to the center and you’ll catch your first glimpse of the famed bridge from above. Stunning. Then, if you’re wise, you’ll head to Plaza de Maria Auxiliadora where you’ll see a pathway with steps that descend into the gorge. This route takes you right down to the bottom of the canyon, from where you are given a whole new perspective on the magnificent Puente Nuevo. Most tourists stop here (it is the iconic picture spot, afterall) but I would urge you to continue on to Los Molinos, a restaurant even lower in the canyon, with a patio boasting superb views of the bridge. Impossibly, we were the only people there when we went. It was the mint crème de la crème where we enjoyed a fabulous little drink, and an even better vista!
Seville:
The highlight was obviously flamenco, as I previously wrote about, but to keep you on your toes the SECOND highlight of Seville is simply being there. Aftering spending at least four too many days in Ronda (one day please ask me about our fascist AirBnB host who smoked cigarettes inside and said Adele singing sounded like a dying goat), I showed up to Seville basically ready to get the hell out of dodge. Dodge being Spain. But Seville being Seville I was smitten after one single hour long walk to clear my head of the aforementioned cigarette smoke.
Not to be dramatic but Seville has an irresistible charm that can’t help but to capture your attention. At first glance you’re like “la la la got it, it’s pretty like the rest of Spain” and then two seconds later you’re like “wait. can it possibly be that in every single direction I turn, I’m looking at the most striking building I’ve ever seen in my life?! Oh, OH SHIT we simply must stop there for a little drink it’s sooooooo cute!!!!! Wait, do I like tapas now?! I want to go there for tapas!!!” Seville is inviting, intoxicating even. I had three glasses of wine at dinner one night, a mistake I haven’t made since Osaka.
There are throngs of people from literally every walk of life sitting out on patios, sipping their little drinks, enjoying the je ne sais quoi of the city. As twilight paints the sky with hues of gold, the Guadalquivir River whispers stories of explorers and traders who once passed through. In Seville, time seems to slow down (la siesta señorita back at again), inviting you to savor every moment, indulge, and immerse yourself in a city that seamlessly weaves its past with an ever-present zest for life.
Southern Spain is a place I’ve always known in my heart I would visit. There was simply no world in which I died having not experienced this part of the planet. I feel so blessed, though, that I got to visit during the Radical Sabbatical where I had the time to enjoy as it was meant to be enjoyed, slowly. With time to float from our little morning drinks (espresso, cappuccino), to our little afternoon drinks (tinto de verano, tea, juice), to our little evening drinks (beer, wine and more espresso).
In my next life, I’m open to coming back as an elderly Spanish man, sitting with all my friends on a wrought iron bench in the town square, smoking the day away, watching the world pass by.
