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Shooting from the window, we rumble along the resort-driven Costa del Sol.
Stops along the way fill the empty seats with tourist families.
As we climb into the hills to Ronda, the views are spectacular.
Finding a cafe with a patio, we sit at our known destination: bus station in Ronda…
waiting for a man named “Botz” with a British accent
to drive us high into the Andalucian mountains.
Sharing a beer, watching the cars and people,
Ronda has a different feel that is much more enjoyable than Malaga.
Relaxed, more exotic and quaint
Soon a lanky, sun dried man with long hair greying at the temples
approaches our table and introduces himself as “Botz”.
An opportunity to sample the flavor of our guide:
punk in London, estranged in India,
chef in Athens, hostels in Amsterdam…great storytelling and jokes!
Still quite sick from the day before, a rest is needed into the evening.
Except for another couple, El Refugio is empty.
Botz gives us a choice of shared dorm rooms with hanging loft beds,
or a private double room with dark wood beams exposed out of the white plastered walls.
We take the private room.
Much tastier than our experience in Malaga,
this dish did not contain shellfish, but chorizo and chicken.
After dinner, we stayed up drinking San Miguel,
and getting to know our good host and new friend, Botz,
in the candlelight of the terrace.
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