A new look at Puente Nuevo

September 13, 2015 - Ronda, Spain

So when in Ronda you go and stare into the 120m deep chasm that divides the town. Oh, and marvel at the construction of such a bridge to span that chasm at the end of the 18th Century. Just moving the stone to the site must have been a huge undertaking, let alone piling them up into the arches. Apparently there were 50 workers who died during the construction and one can understand how that could happen.

We ate breakfast at the hotel before venturing out for our walk. This time in Ronda we are on the northern side, nearer to the main shopping street and plaza, and near the Bullring. The Bullring is a museum to bullfighting these days. I suppose such a thing is a part of Spanish history but I don't think I'll be rushing to their doors. Our walk took us to the north where there is a large park of trees, gardens and paths and we strolled through stamping on the names of their famous bullfighters on our way to the cliff edge that faces the valleys to the west.

The view is somewhat mesmerising, both down and out to the limestone ridges in the distance. We spent hours just taking photos and wandering along toward the northern end of the cliffside promenade. There were many groups of people doing the same but it was fairly peaceful. A different story when we returned to the south and met the crowds of tourists near the parking area for coaches. Luckily there were no coaches in today and we could still move along the pathways and get to most of the vantage points.

By the time we had our obligatory pictures of that bridge (what, you've seen them from our last visit, no these are different) we were ready for a sit down for a drink. We tried to find a seat at one of the terrace cafes with a view of the bridge but unless we wanted to sit in the sun we were out of luck. On our way back to the hotel we stopped in to one of the many cafes with outdoor tables. The Cafe Pedro Romero (named for one of their bullfighters) is in a narrow and shady calle and seemed like a good place to stop for a beer. We were pounced upon by a waiter with menus and breadbasket who tried not to show his disdain for people taking up his table for just a drink. He did bring drinks and was happy enough to take some money when we left and I don't think they were pressed for places at tables. Their menu looked alright so we thought it may be an option for this evening.

After our drink we ducked back to the Intersport shop where Margaret had spotted a 'spotted' backpack on a trolley which she thought would be perfect for her carry on luggage. Yes, already thinking of going home. After a look around the shop we lifted the 'spotted' item from the window display and bought that. We shall see how it works. For €25 we can't be too far wrong.

It was already well into the afternoon when we walked back to the hotel and we settled in for an afternoon of photo critique and even entered some into our Photo Society competition. Isn't the digital and online age wonderful. You may not believe that if you could have heard the comments as we struggled with software and internet connections but it is a marvel to sit in a hotel room in Spain and enter photos in our North Sydney society's competitions.

Now that we are accustomed to Spanish time we strolled out about 8pm and ended up back at Pedro Romero cafe/bar for a bite to eat. This time we chose to sit inside as the air and breeze along the calle was a touch on the chilly side. It is autumn now and on a hilltop so the evenings almost warrant an extra layer. Inside was quite pleasant and we managed to order some drinks (Margaret sticking to her sangria for the evening) and then discuss my garlic allergy with the waitress. Sin Ajo , por favore. Astoy allergico. Making choking noises , rolling your eyes and slashing a finger across your throat seems to help get the message across. No, I didn't really have to do that and she came up with suggestions and warned me to avoid the salsa, all in Spanish and broken English so the message got that far.

Margaret ordered the swordfish and I went for the cuttlefish with a plate of Iberian ham and cheese to share for a starter. When our meals arrived they were served with a potato baked in foil and sliced in half with a large dob of garlic cream added. Whoops, obviously once our waitress established the cuttlefish was garlic free she didn't pass the message to the kitchen. Anyway that was easily scraped off and passed to Margaret and I took my chances with any remaining smears. The swordfish looked good and my cuttlefish looked like, well, cuttlefish but tasted great. With coffee and the bill came a bottle, yes a bottle, of local sweet wine and two shot glasses. Enjoy however much you like, you're on holidays said the head waiter. It was a rich, thick wine tasting of raisins and is probably made by cooking the picked grapes in the sunshine under a tarpaulin. That was the process described to me by Paul, our Photo Tour operator at Torrox.

Our waiter buzzed around the place with speed and efficiency and looked after several other waiters but his gait and body language reminded me of John Cleese as Basil Fawlty. Even more when we watched the holder of oil, vinegar, pepper and salt whisked from under the hands of patrons to move to another table as someone else settled to an ensalada tomate. Then almost as they decided to reach for the condiments off they went once more with an elegant sweep of the arm. Very Basil.

We realised where all the rest of the condiments were when we left and found that even more tables had been added in the calle and there were probably the group from a coach trip seated outside. We walked back to the hotel talking about Basil and the peripatetic salt.


Park on the edge
The path around the cliffs
There had to be a bull
View from the path

1 Comment

September 15, 2015
Looking forward to seeing that spotted backpack xxx
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