One Sugar Cube of Ronda and a Secret Andalucian Village

Never have I wanted to return to a place so much as I want to return to Ronda. After only getting a small, teasing serving of the little town and a two-or-so-hour tour, I’m now dying to go back and watch more sunsets over the valley. Ronda is a relatively large village about an hour or so away from Malaga but it feels like a completely different world. As opposed to Malaga’s polluted air, Ronda has the freshest mountain-top air and barely any haze in the horizon due to pollution. It sits on top of a mountain with a winding path leading down all the way to a river and a valley down below. It’s relatively large for a village as it has a very European-looking shopping street with marble-lined streets and a couple of large squares with fountains. But the thing that sticks out most in my mind about Ronda is the light. Once darkness fell, the entire town was illuminated in this yellowish, fairytale like glow. The walls of the buildings reflected the light off in slightly different shades, and the streetlamps sparkled in the night, almost like candles. It may be one of the most romantic places I’ve been to, as it makes you yearn for your lover or gives you the nectar to want to fall in love on the spot. Imagine an entire town, candlelit and glowing, the night breeze blowing slightly as though it’s whispering secrets of the past in your ear.

The physical education teacher at our school, Agustin, offered to take me and my coworkers Elena and Jose Angle to Ronda and another nearby village for an afternoon of sightseeing and driving through the beautiful countryside. We left Alora after school and drove a couple of hours along winding, countryside roads. Eventually the roads became steeper and steeper and Agustin was proud to have shown us that Malaga does indeed have mountains. We were climbing higher and higher, the valley below shrank farther and farther away, and our stomachs became more and more knotted with each curve that he took in his little red sports car. We finally stopped at a little restaurant with a magnificent view of everything beneath and filled our stomachs with delicious and typical Spanish food. Of course that meant a couple of platters of meat – pork, beef and lamb – with greasy but exquisite French fries buried within. Then the waiter brought out a big plate of Manchego cheese, a very typical and sharp sheep cheese, and jamon Serrano, thin slices of cured beef. Who ever would have thought that this former-vegetarian would be drowning her palate with meat, and enjoying every moment of it? At last came a glass of local red wine and more cheese and finally a coffee and a sweet liquor shot.

With full stomachs and rosy wine-tinted cheeks, we got back into Agustin’s car to go to what he called “the most secret village in Andalucia.” It was a tiny, tiny, tiny little pueblo blanco, consisting of 200 residents, hidden on the side of a mountain named Benadalid. Agustin is building a house in the village so that he can escape the city life in the next few years. He would work at the one school that the village has, and he’d watch the sun rise every morning out of his big bedroom window that looks out over the valley. After a life of playing music, traveling the world, drinking, smoking, essentially partying and finally settling down to a stable career, he’s decided that he’d want nothing more than to settle into a quiet village life to reflect on the years past. We took a little walk around the village, saw only a couple of villagers and a little white, energetic dog and walked up along a chestnut-wooded path.

After the little tour of Benadalid, we drove back down towards Ronda, where Agustin dropped us off to explore while he settled things with his bank for the house. We walked along a huge bridge that towered over the valley below with the rock faces cascading down. It felt like we were standing at the edge of a cliff. The sky was turning pink, then orange, then deep red and then purple We walked along the edge of the cliff to the other side where a huge park bordered the towering cliffs. We watched more of the color-changing sky, mesmerized by the sounds, smells and paintings in the sky. After night fell, we walked to the city center, which was bustling with people and glowing in the yellow night light. We bought chestnuts and ate them in the main square, watching kids play with their grandparents and lovers walk by holding hands. After Agustin finished his business with the bank, he walked us around the historic part of the town and showed us the cobble-stoned paths that the villagers used to take on horseback many years ago. After a long, uphill walk back up to the town we went into a restaurant and got a refreshing drink and then got back in the car to wind all the way back to Malaga. Ronda now feels like a glimmering dream I had last week. A dream that’s becoming more and more abstract with each day that passes to separate me from it, but a dream whose glimmer I will never forget. Next time I want to linger longer, walk slower, and eat one too many chestnuts.