Location: Acros de la Frontera, Spain.
They drove past a battalion of defeated black sunflowers who were holding their heads in shame.
Her fingers itched begging to write the beginning of a glorious tale. She scribbled in her journal roughly,
“today I ate six year old cheese, drank twelve year old wine and I discovered all past declarations were empty"
Her fingers itched begging to write the beginning of a glorious tale. She scribbled in her journal roughly,
“today I ate six year old cheese, drank twelve year old wine and I discovered all past declarations were empty"
We were in a desert. The road on our journey was dry and desolate. Vultures circled over herds of cows in warning and the earth was painted yellow with the bodies of deceased plants.
Past the winding roads in the distance we saw our destination, the white village of Arcos de la Frontera.
Once we had arrived, unforgiving shards of shimmering sunlight bounced off the surrounding walls blinding me. It penetrated my fair skin painting it red like a scorching branding iron. I was losing more water than I could absorb and I had turned into a walking sprinkler system. You would think my years in Australia would have prepared me for 45-degree heat but alas, life was draining from my body and I craved a siesta.
The chalk-white streets were bare of activity except for a scrawny cat I had mistaken for dead. As we lost ourselves through the winding rows of pristine buildings seeking refuge in the shadows, I was overwhelmed by the town’s raw beauty. Arcos de la Fronter was perched on a limestone ridge overlooking the arid landscape. Rows of olive groves stood systematically across the rolling hills beside a stagnant creek, there was very little green. A sea of virgin clay buildings with the contrasting colour of a door or window followed everywhere your eyes trailed.
As we walked up the winding streets we found an oasis of tall trees and turquoise pots. We stumbled across a restaurant painted in rich reds, blues and yellows enticing our curiosity. We walked inside awkwardly gaping at our surroundings. The walls were covered in glorious paintings, baskets and cushions scattered the unique table settings. We were no longer in Spain, perhaps Morocco?
Past the winding roads in the distance we saw our destination, the white village of Arcos de la Frontera.
Once we had arrived, unforgiving shards of shimmering sunlight bounced off the surrounding walls blinding me. It penetrated my fair skin painting it red like a scorching branding iron. I was losing more water than I could absorb and I had turned into a walking sprinkler system. You would think my years in Australia would have prepared me for 45-degree heat but alas, life was draining from my body and I craved a siesta.
The chalk-white streets were bare of activity except for a scrawny cat I had mistaken for dead. As we lost ourselves through the winding rows of pristine buildings seeking refuge in the shadows, I was overwhelmed by the town’s raw beauty. Arcos de la Fronter was perched on a limestone ridge overlooking the arid landscape. Rows of olive groves stood systematically across the rolling hills beside a stagnant creek, there was very little green. A sea of virgin clay buildings with the contrasting colour of a door or window followed everywhere your eyes trailed.
As we walked up the winding streets we found an oasis of tall trees and turquoise pots. We stumbled across a restaurant painted in rich reds, blues and yellows enticing our curiosity. We walked inside awkwardly gaping at our surroundings. The walls were covered in glorious paintings, baskets and cushions scattered the unique table settings. We were no longer in Spain, perhaps Morocco?
The waiter led us into the cellar and proudly presented his wine collection that had sat fermenting in darkness for half of my life. I grasped Superman’s hand unable to see a meter ahead of me, “what’s that?” I asked curiously pointing to a crescent brick of cream linen. “Cheese” he responded softly. I was shocked; I had never before seen such a thing. “This would never happen in Australia!” I stated abruptly. I could only imagine a work health and safety inspector discovering a cave under a restaurant scattered with six-year-old cheese fit for human consumption.
We returned to our table consuming sentimental conversation over the delicious aged wine. The waiter placed down our food interrupting our lingering eyes. Our meal was Moroccan inspired Spanish tapas followed by a cheese platter. I was intoxicated with pleasure with the flavors from this simple meal. Spices lingered in my mouth and my tongue begged for more in restless anticipation. The cheese was creamy and unlike anything I had ever eaten before. I had decided that if I were ever on death row my last meal would be the wine and cheese platter from this specific quaint restaurant.
Grinning with pride the waiter returned to the bar to complete a mediocre task while watching us in nostalgia. Our meals were once more occupied with tender murmurings. I looked into the palms of my hands to hide my glistening eyes and I whispered softly “that is the most beautiful thing anybody has ever said to me. I don’t know what to say.”
Superman looked at me intently. His hand lifted stroking the side of my face as he wiped a stray droplet of wine above my lip and he responded gently “then say nothing.”
We shared the remainder of our meal in silence. My heart was singing the sweetest melodies that were ever composed;
I will remember this day forever.
We returned to our table consuming sentimental conversation over the delicious aged wine. The waiter placed down our food interrupting our lingering eyes. Our meal was Moroccan inspired Spanish tapas followed by a cheese platter. I was intoxicated with pleasure with the flavors from this simple meal. Spices lingered in my mouth and my tongue begged for more in restless anticipation. The cheese was creamy and unlike anything I had ever eaten before. I had decided that if I were ever on death row my last meal would be the wine and cheese platter from this specific quaint restaurant.
Grinning with pride the waiter returned to the bar to complete a mediocre task while watching us in nostalgia. Our meals were once more occupied with tender murmurings. I looked into the palms of my hands to hide my glistening eyes and I whispered softly “that is the most beautiful thing anybody has ever said to me. I don’t know what to say.”
Superman looked at me intently. His hand lifted stroking the side of my face as he wiped a stray droplet of wine above my lip and he responded gently “then say nothing.”
We shared the remainder of our meal in silence. My heart was singing the sweetest melodies that were ever composed;
I will remember this day forever.
La Taberna de Boabdil Restaurant
Paseo de Boliches, 35, 11630 Arcos de la Frontera, Spain.