So what’s at Ronda? EB asks as we train our way to another Spanish town. I shrug. I know it’s unique and incredible but I can’t remember why.
And then we get there. Oh.

Breathtaking
Perhaps it’s because it’s perched on the edge of a cliff that plunges over 100 metres to the river below. With so many places to stand on the very edge of the abyss, it takes your breath away…
Breathless

The mineshaft, which was about mining water not minerals, looks almost apologetic for being so deep
Perhaps it’s all those terraces and winding alleyways that involve endless incline and stair climbing.
Wait, there’s a bonus ancient Islamic mine with a million stairs (well, it felt like a million!).
And EB has spotted a path down the cliff, so his eyes are glazing over as he plans tomorrow’s walking adventure…
Breathe
Or perhaps it’s being at a tapas and wine bar in the town square people-watching.
It seems like the entire community comes out at dusk (around 7.30) to hang out together.
From the very old to the very young they are there… running, jumping, chatting, laughing, flirting or just watching and remembering their younger crazier days.

No huddling around the goggle-box with dinner perched on laps for them. This is full-on, multi-generational socialising at it’s most inspiring.
Can’t wait to explore this incredible place.
Ah, Seville, Granada, now Ronda. I’m feeling deeply shallow as each place steals a piece of my heart… but how can you not love this Spanish life?




Simple, cheap and tasty, tinned sardinha is a favourite across Portugal, for the poor and the wealthy alike – as a healthy basic, fast food or gourmet cuisine.

Of course, bacalhau (salted cod, right) is another staple – but I’m guessing it missed out on the fishy audition because it’s not quite as sleek as sardines.




Along the way, we passed towering cliffs that looked like they would completely crumble at the slightest puff of wind, and rock stacks crafted by tides and time into shapes like elephants, camels and even the Titanic.
All that activity definitely works up an appetite (and a thirst).
A local station attendant, who was helping us buy train tickets from S.Pedro to Cascais today, asked us what we liked about Portugal the most.
In this region, the locals are just comfortable in their own skin. Well, if there are any body image issues, I’m not seeing it.
And down on beach, women of all shapes, ages and sizes (and I mean ALL) are rocking their bikinis. Eat your heart out Botticelli.

You’ve got to have a least one of those (travelling) days, don’t you? Well, today was ours.
Eternally optimistic, we head off to find the Tourist Information Centre to get a map of the area. Except it closed 12 months ago.


When the street is your canvas, the possibilities are endless in Lisbon.



In Alfama, Lisbon’s oldest quarter, we lose ourselves in tangle of cobblestone alleys and narrow streets, where a vibrant energy gives you light feet while the breath of the past brushes your neck.
Nearby there are 17th-century churches and an impressive cathedral – and up on the hill there are views to take your breath away.





I’m sure that would have been the original version of Wordsworth’s poem – especially if he’d written it in Switzerland.


