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Published: October 12th 2009
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Yipee, its Monday and we have the day off and are off to the White Villages high up in the hills. Our first task is the walk down the hill to the bus stop which we accomplish with relative ease (all this work must be making us fitter or are we just lighter from lack of food?). Reaching the bus stop we look for a timetable but no joy, still Kate has told us there is an 11am bus and a quick check on the internet confirms this so we settle down to wait. A bus stops on the other side of the road (where there isn’t a bus stop) going in the opposite direction and the driver looks at us but passes no comment so we remain where we are firm in our belief that we are indeed waiting in the right place.
11am comes and goes, 11.05, 11.10, 11.115.. by this time we are debating what to do with our day off instead of our planned visit but at 11.20 a local woman arrives and sits down next to us and we manage to confirm that we are actually in the right place and that the bus will
apparently arrive “sometime soon” well I’m exactly sure that’s what she said but its my interpretation using my limited Spanish.
Sure enough at 11.25 the bus does finally arrive and we are off. We pass through Orgiva where the bus stops to do a three point turn in the middle of the road and then head on up into the hills via some tortuous mountain bends. I’m in my element thinking wow cool view and great road and Dee is just pleased she has taken her travel sickness tablets.
Finally we arrive at the top village Capileira. Despite the altitude it’s a warm day and the narrow alleyways of the town provide some welcome shade. Exploring the very pretty narrow white washed streets we marvel at the silence and lack of people. Would could to all intents and purpose have the place to ourselves apart from the occasional tourist who pop out every now and then to take a photo of the same view that we are and then disappear again.
I’m reminded of Clint Eastwood and the Good the Bad and the Ugly or is it for A Few Dollars More. Dotted around the town are
some lovely little boutiques selling a range of alternative clothing and footwear and many specialist craft shops selling Alpujurian rugs, leatherwork, hams and olive oil. The streets are also festooned with bright red drying chilli peppers hung from many of the balconies. We visit a lovely artists gallery and after a while make our way down the mountain to the middle village where we spend more time perusing similar shops and narrow alley ways, making friends (or at least photographing) the local cats and dogs and wishing our Spanish was better so that we could ask permission to also photograph some of the locals going about their business of relaxing in the sunshine.
Unfortunately all the churches seem to be closed and locked and by the time we reach the middle village Bubion it’s siesta time and so many of the shops are closed. We visit one which isn’t and incongruously seems to be full of Tibetan jewellery, clothing and ornaments but although many items take my fancy I resist the temptation to purchase since I figure if I buy my Tibetan souvenirs in Spain what am I going to bring back from the Himalayas when I visit.
After stopping for our home made lunch at a suitable viewpoint, we make our way down the track to Pampeneira the lowest and seemingly largest of the village. Pampeneira also has the largest number of shops. Having spotted a potential present hanging outside one of the boutiques from the bus on the way up I am disappointed to find that on closer inspection it wasn’t quite suitable, but after much deliberation I find an alternative and finally succumb to the temptation of a purchase. We visit the small chocolate factory, where we find some very keen tourists having their pictures taken with the choclatiere, decline the overtures of a admittedly very polite chair masseur in the main square and stop for some refreshments outside a local café. By this time we are beginning to flag slightly and so after a final round of gift hunting we settle down outside one of the shops where we have been told we need to wait for the 6.30pm bus (no signs of any kind are in evidence, it’s just the place the bus stops), for a while we are on our own but soon a queue begins to form and before long there
is a reassuring group. Unfortunately as this morning 6.30pm comes and goes without any sign of a bus, so does 7.00pm and 7.15, finally at 7.25pm two buses arrive and bring the town to a semi standstill (well they would if there was any traffic) since they are going in opposite directions and park opposite each other while the drivers get off to have a chat. Still pleasantries over with we finally set off on our way back to Lanjaron.
Now joking about punctuality aside we really must commend the Spanish buses, firstly they are incredibly cheap, secondly they are actually fully air conditioned coaches with seatbelts and comfy seats rather than the traditional bus we are used to in the UK, and thirdly the drivers are completely amazing. They manage to thread their coaches through the narrowest alleyways and streets of the tiny mountain hamlets with aplomb, navigate the tortuous mountain bends smoothly without shaking or stirring their passengers and perform amazing three point turns at the end of dead end villages whilst all the time remaining incredibly cheerful and chatting away with gusto to their regular passengers.
We finally arrive back in Lanjaron just as the
Hopalong
A three legged grasshopper :-( seemed happy enough sun is going down. We are very tempted by the thought of eating out tonight but unfortunately we didn’t bring a torch with us and the track up the mountain would be too easy to loose in the dark so it’s a race against the setting sun, one which we thankfully win with only minutes to spare.
It’s Kates night off tonight so after a quick meal of some very tasty pasta which Dee kindly makes its just time to brush our teeth, check my emails and fall into my uncomfortable bed.
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Dee
non-member comment
:)
The paparatzi picture made me laugh soooooo much............xd