Inland Andalusia

From the white town of Ubrique we climb into the Sierra de Grazalema — and what a surprise. On ancient Roman roads, the stones loose and slippery, we reach a hidden plateau: a green basin surrounded by bare grey rock peaks, with cows, horses and wild narcissus. This is the Spain that even Spaniards hardly know.

At Ronda we stand at the edge of the famous gorge, with the river deep below and the 18th-century bridge above. Then we follow the Via Serrana, an ancient pilgrimage route that leads us through a patchwork of olive groves, sunflower fields and rolling grain fields toward Seville. We walk the Via Verde de la Sierra — a never-completed railway with tunnels and viaducts where no train has ever run — and count fifty griffon vultures above the Peñón de Zaframagón.

In Seville we find ourselves in the middle of Semana Santa. Thousands of people in pointed hoods and strong men carrying towering statues of the Virgin Mary through the streets, accompanied by brass and incense. It's surreal and unforgettable. And when we arrive at the Plaza de España on Easter Sunday, we know: Andalusia has stolen our hearts.

Beyond Seville the landscape shifts again. At Italica we stand in a Roman amphitheatre built for 25,000 spectators, and in the Sierra Morena we walk through cork and holm oak forests on soft sandy paths — a relief after the hard asphalt kilometres.