Frigiliana

We nearly didn’t go to Frigiliana.  This white-washed village is one of the prettiest in Spain so we thought it would be packed with tourists.  We arrived early, parked easily and had coffee before exploring the steep, cobbled streets.  There were just a few local people about and very few tourist trash shops.  We climbed higher and higher, stopping every few minutes to take another photo of a pretty door or balcony.  We arrived at the top of the village and I spotted an enticing doorway of a restaurant that led through to a terrace overlooking the valley.

“It’s too early for lunch.”

“We could have a beer, I’m very thirsty after that climb,” I said plaintively.

“It’s too early for beer.”

“It looks very nice inside.”

“No, we can go back down into the village and find somewhere later.”

So we climbed back down to the lower terrace of Frigiliana where we were confronted by tour groups that had just arrived by coach and were massing around the restaurants.  

The climb back to the restaurant was hard work (I was very well behaved and didn’t complain once) but we were rewarded by fantastic seats on the terrace overlooking the roof tops of Frigliana and across the valley.  Lunch was delightful (I probably had too much wine), only two other couples joined us on the terrace and we had the undivided attention of the waiter.  The tour groups clearly didn’t want to make the steep ascent to the top of the village.

my restaurant El Adarve

I don't feel homesick today.