Spain Month: Bubion

The trip from Granada, Spain to our next destination, the little mountain village of Bubion, was supposed to be a relatively quick drive. We passed from city to country and then crept into the thick base towns and tourists traps surrounding the Sierra Nevadas. After a quick study of the map we began our ascension through abandoned hillside farms and forgotten olive groves.

The road that twisted up the side of the rocky mountains was no wider than the width of our little Passat and at every corner we honked the horn, held our breath and pushed the gas towards terror. It was April, but the weather was warm, even for the south and the snow melted and dripped down the coarse rocks lining the road. My father drove the little car with complete confidence, while my mother prayed to Saint

Luggage with her head between her knees in the backseat. I sat in the passenger seat and leaned

my head over the edge of the cliff to smell the wild r

osemary and to catch a glimpse at the world below.

When we had traveled for quite sometime up this perilou

s path we all craned our necks out the front window to try and see our destination, but there were no houses, no people and no animals to be seen, only an occasional hawk gliding up above. Finally we passed around one long curve and on the other side stood a solitary glass bus stop and a small girl around the age of ten. My father slowed the car and sided up next to the little girl. I smiled in her direction and politely asked "Donde esta Bubion?" in my best accent. She looked at me sideways and then with her hand planted firmly on her hip she pointed the other into the clouds and stated "todo arriba." I thanked her and she continued to wait, and as we pulled away I told my father "all the way up" to which he did not reply, but instead turned to my mother and then back to me and we laughed a little and then nervously proceeded.

My mother chose the town of Bubion, because she saw it was in the general direction we were going. It was a new experience for me, to go someplace I had never heard of, never dreamed of so as we climbed the Sierra Nevadas toward this illusive village I didn't have the slightest idea of what to expect...then finally an apparition appeared before us in the form of a whitewashed

haven.

Bubion is a town of around 100 people all of whom live in connected whitewashed stone dwellings adorned with thousands of dried, red chili peppers and potted flowers. It was a moment of pure love, a feeling I have never forgotten.

Our hotel was the Villa Touristica a three star establishment that blended seamlessly into the town. Our room consisted of a kitchen, a living room with a futon, a large bedroom and very clean bathroom and all for the amazing price of $80 a night (for all three of us) including an a delicious all you can eat breakfast. But on top of the spacious rooms, the cozy decor and the perfect costumer service, the room had it's own front yard, surrounded by hedges and looking out onto the entire length of our previous journey, down the hill and over the valley and at the far end of sight lay the tallest mountain in Spain and to the right of that mountain you could see the Mediterranean and they say on a clear day your eyes might spy Africa. I could never have dreamed of a place where I could sleep soundly in the mountain air, awake

and look out across the end of one continent and on to another.

For me Bubion was a dream, a place lost in time and cradled in tranquility. But be warned! If you do not like wide open space, hiking trails, goats, strictly observed siestas and still going to bed early, then this place might not be for you. Upon arrival we unpacked and took a look around the village to find something to eat. It was around 5:00pm and like everywhere around the Mediterranean it is hard to find a place that serves dinner before 10:00pm.

We passed "cerrado" sign after "cerrado" sign until finally we walked into a small little bar with a woman and her husband sitting and watching the latest soccer game. The greeted us kindly, but then quickly informed us that the kitchen was closed and we could only order cold tapas. We agreed to the restricted menu and the followed her outside. Behind this little bar with an unimposing facade and sparse interior lay a patio drenched in sunlight, beyond clean and with that same view of distant lands. If you haven't already guessed I was the only participant of this trip who spoke Spanish and I tried my best to order a nice early dinner for the three of us. I chose tortilla espanola, chorizo, three tomato salads and of course three beers. We were each on our second beer when out came the couple with what looked like their teenage son all carrying hand-painted full of fresh food. The tomato salad was a work of art covered in garlic and olive oil. The chorizo stained your fingers red from the amount of fragrant dried peppers (probably from a neighboring house) and the tortilla was better than any I had had since arriving in Spain almost year prior. We ate and we drank and all three of us got sun burns on our faces and it is still til this day the single best meal I have ever had in my life.

The next two days we spent hiking and exploring the local farms, sampling the local wine, trying to give the local handy-crafters business and soaking in the sights, sounds and smells of this truly wonderful hidden Spanish wonderland. It is the place that I would like to retire, the place that my mind returns over and over again and the place that with just the mere mention of its name, puts a smile on my face.

Essentials: Backpack
Sneakers or hiking boots
sunglasses
binoculars
cash (not many of the stores or restaurants in these little villages except credit cards)
camera

Best time to go: Spring and summer (late march through October, even though it is in the south it is the highest mountain range in Spain and there can be snow).

Length of stay: weekend/long weekend. If you want to get away from civilization for longer, then by all means stay longer, but Bubion is the perfect weekend getaway from the city.

Book choice: Jeffrey Lent "A peculiar Grace" This story will make you appreciate and understand the beauty of living in a secluded place.

Soundtrack: Band of Horses: Everything All the Time