Our car got towed in Ronda, a charming city in the province of Málaga in Andalusia, Spain. As has been our custom, my husband and I took off by car one day from Sevilla, where we live, and just sort of drove around. People had told us that Ronda was spectacular, but we never really listened. We just ended up there, on the way to somewhere else, I suppose. But then our car got towed. Suddently, I felt like an unwelcome traveler in a bad Western who’d been told by the sheriff to get out of town. The city didn’t know I felt betrayed and angry, of course, nor do I suppose it cared. I was mad, though. I stamped through the streets of Ronda looking straight ahead, walking quickly to the place where we’d have to pay 65 Euros to get our car out of where it was being stored. My husband and I were being punished for being clueless foreigners who had parked incorrectly. To make matters worse, my husband started to meander nonchalantly, taking in the view as we headed off on foot to rescue our car. We crossed this bridge below.

I got taken in, too, though. Although I am too high-strung to meander even if someone were to give me Valium, I started to breathe a little more calmly, and even got out my camera. This...on the way to pick up my towed car, mind you. Below is a picture I took.

Closer to our car, I took a picture the buildings and the street. More beauty.

I didn't take a picture of the place where they had stored our car, of course, nor did I want a Kodak memory of the guy who took our 65 Euros. I did, however, take a picture of the view from the hotel where we decided to stay the night.

In the end, I fell in love with this place. I didn't learn much about it because I spent a lot of time being mad first, but I suppose Wikipedia could tell you more than I could, anyway. All I can tell you, really, is this: Go there. Just be careful where you park.