The White Village of Casares

Many places in Andalusia still leaves you with a sense of having stepped back in time. The photogenic town of Casares, with its white silhouettes of houses sprawling up the hillside and surrounded by the mountainous territory that is Serrania de Ronda, is one such place. Whichever way you approach it, nothing prepares you for the spectacular views it affords from all angles, the distinctive outlines of white sugar cube houses crowned by an Arab castle perched on top of the hill.

We used the toll road and drove along a row of wind turbines, most fascinating to a two year-old who likes anything that goes round and round. There is a tourist information centre just before the entrance to the town and I managed to inform the attendant that I speak no Spanish. She was kind enough to give us a direction to the free car park in perfect English and bade us away with a map of the village.

From the car park, the main village square is reached through a labyrinth of winding streets, passing by local people gossiping on the street. The smell of newly-baked bread from the panaderia made our stomachs rumble but soon enough we found ourselves in front of the water feature called Carlos III Fountain, built in 1785 using neo-classical style which marks the centre of town.

While having our favourite breakfast of cafe con leche and pan y tomate con aceite de oliva, we witnessed village elders hold their council on a couple of benches at the back of a church wall. Locals and tourists crossed the square. Older women hovered around their doorsteps watching the daily goings-on unfold before them. Like they, and many others before them, would have done for ages.

We would have happily stayed there but the square was getting busier and other people needed our seat so we thanked the owner of the cafe who was running a one man show and made our way up the steep hill to the ruins of the moorish wall and the castle, admiring the plants adorning the walls of the houses and greeting everyone we pass by.

The fortress was built in the 13th Century on Roman foundations and the 16th Century Church of the Incarnation, originally a Franciscan-capuchin convent, features a Mundejar tower.

We walked along the walls of the ruins, admiring the views of the town below and following the little boy as he ran around the ruins. On the other side opposite the church is a viewpoint with a panoramic view over olive groves, orchards and forests agains the backdrop of the Mediterranean sea.

The cemetery, located within the castle enclosure is also a site to visit. It is known for its circular construction with whitewashing niches. It was closed when we visited but we were able to admire it through the iron gates.

We used the coastal road on our way home, following a scenic route of hills and wooden areas and dotted with restaurants offering local Andalusian cuisine. We promised to stop by another time, for now content to have our fill of the beautiful Casares.

Weekend Walk: Lady Bower Reservoir

On Sunday morning, we woke up to a sky that was clear, a great echoing bowl of blue, drenched in light from the sun that has just risen over the horizon. The early morning air was crisp and the ice crystals that formed overnight were still clinging to the leaves of the potted plants by our kitchen door. It was a sort of day that brought a lot of promise, perfect for a photo walk in the countryside to capture the poetry of the changing season.

The night before, I have suggested taking the wheel and driving the family to the Lady Bower Reservoir, a twenty minute journey from Hillsborough through the quiet country lane that is Rivelin Valley Road which follows the course of the river until it joins A57 to the right, the trunk road between Sheffield and Manchester which passes through sheep pastures and wild heather moorlands with spectacular views of the valleys from the rising hills. This idea was not met with much enthusiasm and with perfectly good reasons.

Sundays are never the best times to go to the Peak District. Roadside parking spaces are quickly snapped up by the enthusiastic middle classes whose past times include early morning commune with nature in their Regatta outfits, walking poles and hiking boots. When we got there just after nine in the morning, we had to circle around to find a free space but even that was due to luck as we have a small car that can squeeze in when others can’t.

But perhaps the bigger reason was the state of my driving which even I am still nervous about. It has taken me an expensive nearly two years of weekly driving lessons with a very patient instructor to pass my driving exams at my second attempt while I was on the 37th week of pregnancy. John thinks I have charmed my way to get it, judging by my poor subsequent performances on the driver’s seat, which resulted to more weekend driving lessons (with a not-so-patient-instructor) involving uphill junctions, 20mph streets and circular routes. It wasn’t much fun so I suggested that on last week’s lesson, we should hit two birds with one stone: a driving lesson and a day out.

It was supposed to be easy: a quiet road with maximum speed limit of 50mph, so I started off with a lot of confidence. But there is never an easy route in Britain where you share the road with groups of cyclists hogging the road instead of their designated cycle paths, impatient drivers overtaking close to incoming bends and over-speeding motorcyclists signing their own death sentence. Add the fact that you never really see where you are going because the roads are never straight. But when we arrived at our destination without a scratch in the car, I was congratulating myself. My passengers though would tell a different story.

When we approached the reservoir, a wisp of mist was still hovering over the treetops but it didn't stay long. We parked closed to Ashopton Bridge and crossed the viaduct to the direction of Bamford, admiring the stunning view of the hills covered with woodlands in its autumnal glory, beautifully reflected in the calm water. We walked the length of the dam towards the other side, taking plenty of photos along the way.

A Day at the Bakewell Show

I bought a polka-dot dress from a charity shop a few years ago. It was pretty, the sort of outfit that seems to evoke a sense of nostalgia for old England, with its dainty teapots and pretty cakes shared over afternoon tea by happy middle-class housewives, away from the murkier and gritty reality of the rest of the population who took a more active role in the industrial revolution. But when we think of the past, we always remember the nicer things and why not? Vintage is the new modern  and they are not cheap either.

So despite years of sitting at the back of the wardrobe, waiting for a decent enough summer day to take it out, I held on to it dearly even when storage became scarce and a few dresses had to go. This year it finally made its debut out in the sun, when we headed off to the annual Bakewell Show in the Peak District for Isaac's first birthday. 

It was the perfect dress for such an occasion. The two-day affair is the largest tented agricultural event and one of the oldest in Britain with 200 years of history attached to it. Every year, it attracts around 65,000 visitors with 300 trade stands exhibiting local crafts and produce and where local farmers and producers compete in cattle and crafts events as well as horse shows and show jumping.

We aimed to get there early, setting off from home at eight in the morning for the hour-long car journey to Bakewell. The temporary car park site was already filling up by the time we got there, with mostly pensioners or families with young children piling out of their cars and heading towards the direction of the Wye Valley just across the river, passing by a few cattles and ducks along the way.

We paid £15 each for our tickets at the entrance and after a rather expensively disappointing egg and bacon sandwich at the cafe, we did a leisurely walk at the show grounds. This blog will mostly show what was on offer.

Farming Competitions and exhibits
It was fascinating to watch young farmers showing off their cattle with clear pride in their faces. There were also activities for the little ones to get involved in. 

A Sheep Show
This was something we particularly enjoyed, which allowed us to have a better appreciation of sheep farming and realise how special these creatures are. We also watched sheep shearing live and were disappointed to find out that in Britain, those lovely wool are not really worth much and in fact just covers the cost of shearing them. But it is still necessary to do it to keep the animals cool in the summer and to protect them from the nasty fly strike that could kill them. At the end of the show, Isaac was clapping his hands with everyone else. 

Farm Animals
Ducks, chickens, rabbits and alpacas amongst others were also on display.


Carriage Driving and Show Jumping
There were beautiful horses trotting around and elegant ladies dressed up in exotic millinery for the carriage driving competitions. It was all rather too upper class for us but we enjoyed it nonetheless!



Dairy and Meat Products & Pigeon and Poultry Competitions
We visited the meat and dairy product tents too where there were beautiful displays of award-winning cheeses and meat pies then the neighbouring tent showing competing domestic fowls and their eggs. 


Lemonade Break
We took a short break to sip the thirst-quenching cold lemonade drink with a touch of mint. It was so nice I had to make one at home!


Vintage and Classic Cars
Reminded me of Inspector Morse.



Eco-Funerals
Just to give you an idea of what's on offer for the environmental conscious. The cycle hearse with a cardboard box is a lovely idea.


Horticultural Show

Giant vegetables. Impressive. Madame Zuccini held a show too. And of course the Tour de France reference had to be present. 

Children's Fairground Rides
This was a very busy place and there were plenty of rides for children to choose from. I was tempted to get on the merry-go-round, but will perhaps do it when Isaac is a bit older.

Seaside at Bakewell
A sandy beach in an open-sided marquee with a Punch and Judy Show and donkey rides. It also looked like a typical British day trip at the beach for the little children who off school for summer holidays.

We left the grounds just after two o'clock, totally exhausted even though we have not truly explored the show grounds thoroughly. But we had a lovely time and Isaac's birthday was memorably celebrated. We walked along the path by the river on our way back to the car park where a cow was grazing, oblivious that we were intruding on its space, just the perfect countryside scene to take back home.