The hill town of Gorzola, at first, did not seem much but with acquaintance the charm of its well proportioned square and its gentle its atmosphere grew on us. It was truly Spanish. Unbeknown to us it was their Jazz Festival week-end. A real bonus!
The next day we drove around the mountains, picnicked by the stream
Keeping the wine and the feet cool in the heat is a must.
Swimming in the stream mid-afternoon was heaven.
We stood at the source of the Rio Quildalquivir, the river which flows to Seville. Because of the time of year it was more like a shrivelled prune than a pond.
We retraced our step back via the Sierra Navada taking the only road right through the middle of the mountain range. We could not find any ski resorts as we had expected . “Ski fond” must be the only type of skiing practiced there. The mountain was barren and not particularly beautiful. We were still shocked, when we came over the brow of the hills, by the sea of plastic.
We shall not return in a hurry!
Why so may English people settle here beats us….It must be the sun and the Sangria…
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