We visited Ronda yesterday, a small town a couple of hours outside Malaga. To be honest I had never heard of it, but John was keen to go there. He said he had visited Spain many times, but had never been to Ronda.

Stepping out of my wheelchair and onto the bus, I didn’t know what to expect. We had soon left Malaga and were driving up into the hills and mountains. It was beautiful. It was then that John told me a bit about the place we were heading to: an ancient fortified town once held by the Moores. Of course I was instantly intrigued.

What really caught my attention, though, was when I heard that Ronda was the birthplace of bullfighting. Now, I am not a bullfight aficionado, and like most people these days think that it’s fairly barbaric; but as a fan of Earnest Hemingway that information couldn’t fail to catch my attention. It had been a while since I had looked into much about Hemingway, so I didn’t know whether there were any links, but the possible tie between my two interests made me eager to find out more.

Ronda is a stunning place. It’s steep cobbled streets meant John had a bit of difficulty pushing me around, but we had an amazing afternoon exploring the small town. It’s architecture is an interesting mixture of medieval and moorish; stone bridges swoop elegantly over ravines; promenades look over wide beautiful valleys. We spent the afternoon walking around the town, stopping for drinks and visiting the museums.

It was in one of the cafes that I managed to get online  to finally upload yesterdays blog entry. It was there too that I had chance to tap a couple of words into google, and to my absolute wonder found that Ronda was, in fact, one of Hemingways favourite places. The great American writer spent many summers there watching the bullfighting. It was there too that he met Orson Welles: after a famous fistfight during the creation of one of Welles’ films about the Spanish civil war, the two struck up a firm friendship. I find the fact that two of the greats of twentieth century art had such a close link to the place we visited yesterday absolutely thrilling.

We got back to Malaga fairly late and tired. Days like yesterday give me a buzz which I cannot really describe. Coincidence had once again brought me into the presence of one of my heroes: I had been pushed across the very bull ring where, so many summers ago, Hemingway used to go to watch animals being ritually tortured and killed. Of course that was a different era with totally different values; yet as abhorrent as I might find the custom, I relish discovering such links to histories and people I find so intriguing.