Although Moorish rule in Andalucía came to an end in 1492, after nearly eight centuries, its legacy endures in the region’s architecture, language and identity. “You can even hear it in our accent,” says Blanco, a native of the region.

“We have about 4,000 Arabic words in Spanish, including el Andaluz – the Arabic name for Andalucía,” she explains. “Words such as aceite (olive oil), azucar (sugar), alfombra (carpet), azulejo (tile), Alhambra (palace).”

With 33,000 residents, Ronda is larger than most of the pueblo blancos, the medieval white villages scattered across the provinces of Málaga and Cádiz, but shares the same defining character. 

The white homes reflect the fierce summer heat, winding streets maximize shade, and geometric tiles and hidden courtyards reveal the influence of Moorish design.

As evening falls, I descend the steep path to the bottom of El Tajo Gorge. The path itself was built by the Moors to bring water up to the hills, but now it’s a stream of hardy visitors. From below, the chasm and its span are as spectacular as the panoramic view from above.

In the new town of Ronda, the Real Maestranza, built in 1785,  is considered the birthplace of modern bullfighting. While the tradition remains controversial, many Spaniards still consider bullfighting a form of art.

For hungry travellers who can’t wait until the typical 10 p.m. to eat dinner (we are in Spain, of course), head to one of Ronda’s many tapas cafes, where standing bars offer glasses of tinto (red wine) and snacks of olives, Manchego cheese, jamon iberico, asparagus, spicy pulled pork, chorizo and so much more.

While some tourists visit this pueblo during the day, the once-mighty fortress is as quiet as a church pew at night. I pass locals walking their dogs, housewives putting out garbage for collection, old men enjoying a final copa. Antique lanterns twinkle at twilight as swallows swirl overhead.

The following day, I visit the Basilica of Santa María de la Asunción, built in the 14th and 15th centuries on the site of a former mosque, and the nearby Comunidad de Mercedarias Descalzas, a cloistered convent built in 1642 and home to an order of nuns. Visitors cannot enter the convent, but they can purchase the nuns’ homemade sweets. I step into the foyer and ring a bell. Behind a wooden wall fitted with a torno (a revolving Lazy Susan), a nun asks what I’d like.

“Pastas de chocolate,” I call out, placing eight euros on the torno. The nun rotates it to collect payment, then turns it back to deliver a box of chocolate cookies.

More magic awaits as you meander down the winding streets, where ancient landmarks include the Mayorazgo Palace, with its beautiful façade, and San Agustin Church. The Antiguo Palacio Marqués de Torresoto features 18th-century tiles, revealing that the owners were participants in the Spanish Inquisition, which, of course, nobody expects.

Farther along at La Puerta Matrera, I catch sight of the city’s only original gate, the Matrera Gate, which dates back to its days as a walled Moorish enclosure. 

As I glimpse the remains of the old Arab walls, boxed in between the houses, I can imagine the sound of the muezzin filling the streets, calling for evening prayers, where now church bells toll the passing hours.

Sentenil de las Bodegas

Small but mighty, Sentenil de las Bodegas is another white village worth a visit, mainly for its extraordinary architecture. The whitewashed houses are built into the natural rock formations along both banks of the Trejo River. Two parallel streets — Calle Cuevas del Sol and Calle Cuevas de la Sombra — host many bars and shops and are also home to dwellings carved into the limestone.

Many of the 3,000 inhabitants literally reside beneath the rocks in townhouses known as “abrigos bajo las rocas” or shelters beneath the rocks. There is free parking at the top of the town, and then you can wind your way into the town down a steep flight of steps off Calle San Sebastian towards Calle Cadiz. Look out for the famous Torre del Homenaje, the remains of a 14th-century Moorish castle.

Bodegas Barbadillo in Sanlúcar de Barrameda

Spain’s 3,000-year-old sherry heritage is centred in Andalusia’s “Sherry Triangle” in Cádiz province. The iconic fortified wine, known to Spaniards as vino generoso, is defined by a unique aging process under a yeast layer called flor and a special system of blending.

Sanlúcar de Barrameda

Located at the mouth of the 657-kilometre-long Guadalquivir River, which winds through much of Andalucía before meeting the Atlantic, Sanlúcar de Barrameda has long been a place of departures.

In 1519, Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan set sail from here on the first circumnavigation of the globe. 

Today, however, the town moves at a slower pace. Beachside restaurants offer exceptional fish and shellfish, fresh king prawns, and, of course, Manzanilla sherry. Sanlúcar is also the primary gateway to Doñana National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site renowned for diverse birdlife, including pink flamingos, trees filled with stork nests, and unspoiled dunes.

Those visiting in August can witness one of Andalusia’s most distinctive traditions: thoroughbreds racing along the shoreline at sunset, a spectacle that has unfolded for centuries. 

For me, however, the simple pleasures lingered the longest as I strolled down Playa de la Calzada, a boardwalk on the beach lined with palm trees and chiringuitos (beach bars) offering cold cerveza and seafood. No wonder the town was named Spain’s capital of gastronomy in 2022.

TIP: Poma restaurant has excellent seafood, including shrimp in tomato sauce, the obligatory King prawns, swordfish prepared with Manzanilla sherry, and delicately delicious grilled sole.

Hacienda Guzmán

When I think of olive oil, I inevitably think of Italy. Or, at least, I did.

But to my surprise, I learned that Spain is the largest producer of olive oil in the world, accounting for 45 per cent of the global supply. Italy produces approximately 10 per cent, and also routinely imports large quantities of Spanish olive oil, blends it, and bottles it under famous “Made in Italy” brands.

Cinco Jotas in the village of Jabugo

Growing up with a Spanish father, Jamón Ibérico was a Christmas tradition in our home. An indulgence, it was sliced paper-thin with a special knife, savoured one delicate piece at a time.

Back then, I didn’t realize it was the world’s most expensive cured ham — and that its production is carefully regulated to maintain the melt-in-your-mouth taste. 

Like wine, Spain’s finest hams are protected by designated denominations of origin, with strict rules governing where and how they’re produced. 

Ham from Jabugo, a forested region in Huelva in the heart of the Sierra de Aracena and Picos de Aroche Nature Reserve, is considered among the very best.

During a visit to Cinco Jotas factory, founded in 1879, I learned why. Jamón Ibérico de Bellota comes from purebred Iberian pigs with distinctive black hooves that roam freely through oak forests, feasting primarily on acorns, which give the meat its rich marbling and nutty flavour. Regulations require at least one hectare of woodland per animal,  and during acorn season, they can eat up to 10kg of acorns a day.

The hams are then cured for three years. Master artisans salt the meat before hanging it to air-dry in a careful aging process. The result: a consistently delicious treat like no other. Next door, at Mesón Las Bellotas, I continue the feast with chorizo and platters of grilled Iberian pork.