The Daily Diary of a Wandering Restaurateur
Around Ronda

We left about 10am, threading our way down the hill on a winding track often barely wide enough for the car. We were ten miles into the trip when I realized I couldn't find my passport -- a requirement to get into Gibraltar since it is a sovereign country. It must be at the hotel. I'm not sure they returned it after we checked in.

So back we went, winding up through the little lanes to the top. I pulled over as close as I could get to the hotel (which is to say, not very), left Margene in the car (with a manual transmission that she can't drive) and hoofed it in the direction of the hotel. As I headed down the alley, for some reason I slapped my back pocket and ... voila! A passport! I NEVER put my passport in my back pocket so I never thought to look for it there but I must have done that when they gave it back to me yesterday.

So feeling stupid -- but not as stupid as I would have felt if I had made a scene at the hotel reception desk -- it was back in the car and back down through the maze again. By now I was getting pretty good at it! And once again our brave little safari set forth in the rain in quest of the Rock.

We were about halfway to Gibraltar when my cell phone rang. It was Bryan Zammit, the guy I was going to see. His wife had a last-minute photo shoot (a model perhaps?) so he was tending his 6-week old daughter and would not be able to meet me. Besides, he said, it was raining in Gibraltar.

This called for Plan B. We turned around yet again (I was getting good at that, too!) and headed for Ronda, the other town on Margene's "Gotta See It While We're In the Area" List. This means that instead of going to Nerja (our next stop) via Ronda tomorrow, the route will take us through Gibraltar. It will make the trip an hour or so longer, but it could be more interesting ... particularly if the sun is out!

One positive thing about our start again/stop again tour today is that it gave us several chances to get the wide shot of Arcos. It was a light rain/heavy mist off and on throughout the morning so some of the photos are a bit murky, but the picture on the left gives you an idea of the cliff the town is perched upon ... which is also slowly crumbling away. The shot on the right is typical of what we saw on the road through the hills to Ronda. This road is called La Ruta des Pueblos Blancos (The Route of the White Hill Towns) and they are scattered all through this area.

Perhaps we are missing out on something, but We just find that a very civilized way to eat and have come to prefer it over a more extensive (and expensive) sit-down meal. Not knowing thing one about Ronda, we finally turned to our Rick Steves guide to Spain (conveniently stashed on Margene's Kindle) and went to Tragatapas. It was like 50's diner meets the bar scene -- lots of stainless steel, a photo of Sinatra's Rat Pack circa 1960 on the wall, and an (overly loud) sound track of rock 'n roll and modern jazz. The music and decor actually discouraged us from considering it when we passed it the first time, but having no luck finding something that struck us, we turned to Brother Steves and ended up back here again. It was empty when we arrived and packed by the time we left! Groupies?

But as they say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating and they did an excellent job with the food. Our favorite of the day (so far, at least) was an assembly of fried eggs, stewed chilis and Iberian ham on a bed of french fries. It tasted so nice we ordered it twice! Really! As the place filled up, I noticed the purse hooks under the bar. I have been advocating this amenity for years. I'm not sure how many of my subscribers have taken the initiative to implement it, but it is a hospitable gesture that gives women a way to keep their bags off the floor and close at hand. Tragatapas had gone one better and installed hooks that were large enough to also hold a jacket -- very handy when you are on a bar stool.

Ronda is the birthplace of modern bullfighting and boasts the first great Spanish bullring. The place was teeming with tourists (they travel in packs, you know. Very scary.) and that was enough to steer us away. At great expense, however, I did arrange to get you some photos that show what the facility looks like from the inside. The sunlit aerial shot was the toughest since it was an overcast day on the ground!

Ronda is another hill-top town. It didn't appear that way from the direction we came in from, but you soon figured it out. We wandered through a beautifully green park to a lookout area along the top of the cliff. Given the height (some 360 feet), the term "look out" is particularly appropriate. You can really get a feel for that when you get to the 200-foot wide ravine that divides the old Moorish town from the "new" town (built in 1485!) Spanning the gorge is a stone bridge that took 42 years to complete (1751-1793). To perhaps explain why they took that much time, one only has to note that it is built on the foundations of the original bridge built in 1735 that fell down after only six years! I have no idea how they might have crossed that gap before a bridge!

I just had to look at the table settings to guess where some of these tour groups are coming for lunch! There were four ten-tops and a 16-top that I could see ... and surely more of the same farther back on the patio. Perhaps the tour group idea will hold some interest when I get really senile but I'm certainly not there yet! Tourists see the sights but experience little of the culture. That's better than nothing, I suppose, but it seems rather hollow. Given the size of some of the streets around here, the scooter as a pizza delivery vehicle made a lot of sense. Perhaps we will see more of that in the US, particularly if gas prices spike again. The other shots are just typical streets in the new town that Margene thought looked interesting.

Once again tapas were the meal of choice. Since we had found a place that we liked last night, why mess with a good thing? So it was back to La Carcel. We ordered the eggplant with goat cheese and honey again. It was as pretty and tasty as ever, but by the time we got through the fried calamari and the sirloin medalions with bacon and caramelized onion, we could barely finish half the plate. I am still amazed at how little food it takes to fill me up when we eat this way. I think I can sense a shift coming in how we eat at home.

So full? Yes. Room for dessert? Always. We wandered up the street with the idea that we would find another place for dessert and a cup of coffee. But how to choose? Then we saw a familiar face and had our answer. To explain a bit: the only parking at the top of the hill is in the Plaza del Cabildo in front of the church. If there are no spaces empty -- and there hardly ever are -- you must wait patiently for someone to leave or park at the bottom of the hill and take the bus up. When we got back from Ronda we had to wait about 20 minutes for a spot to open up ... and it was this waiter standing outside the Restaurante Torresotto who gave us his spot! The restaurant is in the courtyard of an old palace and was a pleasant, if dated, place. The food was excellent although they needed some work on their presentation. Margene's incredibly dense chocolate mousse looked like it had been put together by the owner's grandchildren!

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