Yours, Kenna : When the sun sets on Ronda

"There is one town that would be better than Aranjuez to see your first bullfight in if you are only going to see one and that is Ronda. That is where you should go if you ever go to Spain on a honeymoon or if you ever bolt with anyone. The entire town and as far as you can see in any direction is romantic background...if a honeymoon or an elopement is not a success in Ronda, it would be as well to start for Paris and commence making your own friends."

-Ernest Hemingway

From Sevilla to Ronda was such a striking contrast. I may have not been on a romantic honeymoon as described by Mr. Hemingway, but I was on a starry-eyed adventure, and Ronda was an ideal solo-traveler destination.

In early June the little town is still primarily deserted, and the tourists are only really abundant around the Plaza de tores de Ronda. The grand arena is the oldest bull fighting ring in Spain, constructed in 1784, and the very same that Hemingway frequented (just a fun fact for all you Lost Generation romantics).

If you didn't appreciate the literature fun fact, here's just a little shout out to the Whovian readers around, because let's all appreciate this crazy cloud that looks suggestively like a crack in the universe.

For every ounce of color that Sevilla radiated, Ronda seemed to soak it up.

Even with the cloudy gray skies (and the crack in space & time), as the instrumental band that was set up in the gazebo played there melodic songs, there was a warmth to the atmosphere of Ronda.

The town sits atop a rocky precipice, high above the valley and steep canyon below.

Muted hues sweep over the low valley and the whole countryside sighs with the warmth trapped beneath the clouds.

Standing high above the farmlands, surrounded by the historic past that resides in the white washed walls of Ronda, one cannot help but become a bit dreamy and nostalgic for a time when expatriates summered from Paris in the remote town.

It is no question that those individuals were as astonished as I, and the other onlookers, were by this impossible bridge, the Puente Nuevo (but I'll have more on that on day two).

For my first remiss afternoon in Ronda I wandered the soundless streets and gaped down into the chasm below.

Can you imagine being residence of one of these homes along the edge, and living over a giant void in the earth?

The bleached walls and sandy tones of the buildings make even the most subtle pop of color, like old fashioned flower pots of bold tones, striking.

The hushed streets felt equally eerie and serene.

Without another soul in site, I could have sworn the entire world was asleep.

I figured if the rest of the town was on siesta, I might as well join them, so I headed back to my hotel for a brief rest.

After my little nap (when in Spain, live as the Spanish do), I ventured out to watch what was one of the most spectacular sunsets I have ever seen.

Unlike most sunsets, that seem far off and distant, when the sun leaves Ronda, it bathes the entire city in a rosy light.

It was as if I was part of the sunset itself. As the sun laid itself to rest, I too, felt my soul relaxing into the evening.

As the sun let out its final breath of the day and slipped behind the range in the distance, I and the surrounding crowd let out a mutual sigh of contentment and peace with our lot in life. This bewitching town was all we needed in that moment.