Frigiliana to the Lost Village

The locals call us swallows. We fly down south in winter and then head north again in spring; I think it’s a fair description. As with other years we’ve spent the last few weeks enjoying the glorious winter sun of southern Spain. We’re in Axarquia, east of Malaga, in the hills above Frigiliana.

We’ve rented a little villa which is nestled at the foothills of the Sierras de Tejeda, Almijara y Alhama natural parks and from our terrace we can look down over the village and beyond to the blue, blue Mediterranean sea.

Frigiliana is one of Spains more famous pueblos blancos and is by many considered the pueblo más bonito de España… the most beautiful village in Spain. The entire old town is now a UNESCO world heritage site with good reason. Imagine in your minds eye a typical white Andalusian village tumbling down the side of a hill and you will imagine Frigiliana. It’s visited by tourists around the globe but in winter the roads are quieter and come late afternoon we feel like we have the place to ourselves.

We’ve spent our time here enjoying the company of friends and family and simply exploring the area. And of course, because it’s me, we’ve also spent a fair amount of time walking these glorious hills; just like today with our walk to Acebuchal.

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Bitter Sweet

It’s winter in the Dordogne and time to head south for a tiny bit of winter sun.  A few years ago Gerry decided that we should escape the cold and the grey and head to Portugal; we do love Portugal but this year decided that we would wander elsewhere  and try Estepona in the south of Spain.

We left home in the rain and drove down to the Spanish border under a very grey sky.  As we crossed the border at Irun we had sleet that stayed with us as we drove on towards Burgos; which didn’t make for a pleasant drive.  I sent the Gazelles a photo as we passed Belorado and my thoughts wandered back to the warm sunny days 10 months ago when me, Jaqui and Sarah had giggled our way across that path.  However, my navigation duties forced me back to the motorway, the sleet and today’s destination.

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In 2013 we had a holiday in Northern Spain. We set off in our camper and drove west along the coast from France for a day or two and then south to Burgos. After a couple of days there we drove on to Leon, heading to the coast at Vigo.

I kept seeing hikers… Gerry called them ‘shellers’ but they were of course pilgrims. I watched through the window as we drove along and by Leon I was very curious. By the time we arrived at the coast I was committed. Continue reading