Sieze el Día

My eyes hurt and refuse to open from the glare of the sun. It’s 6:07 p.m., and I thought late enough for a walk outside on the terrace to take a look at the village of Casares. Some claim it is the prettiest of Spain’s white, mountain villages. It is hard to disagree with what I remember from last night, though right now the blinding rays of sun bouncing across the white village houses don’t allow me confirmation.

It is mid-August, and we arrived in Casares yesterday evening after spending two weeks up the mountain road in Gaucin. After unpacking, foraging for dinner, and kissing the girls off to bed, I walked into our bedroom to find the rooftop terrace doors open to the view of the church and castle ruins. I was awestruck, captivated, overwhelmed really. The village itself was lost in the crevice below me, but the mountaintop opposite mine was dazzling. The lights shining on the ruins of the old Arab castle, combined with the brilliant purple and blues of the sunset, made for a dramatic view. I went for a glass of wine and came back to wonder about this village, its history and who lived in it now.

We had been interested in Casares and making it our home from the beginning of our sabbatical planning. Near the coast but up in the mountains and off the tourist path, we thought it might be exactly what we were looking for.

I remember though finding it difficult to find a villa to rent near the village or even more ideally an apartment in the village. We wanted to be able to walk to the square, sample the restaurants, perhaps meet a local or two! I finally discovered Barbara at Just Casares and through her we rented the wonderful apartment with the stunning view I was experiencing.

I will always remember my first impressions of Casares and then our actual time staying there, the white and night images of it shining in my mind.