Que Onda
After wearing out our shoes in Fanzara, we were once again hungry, but since it looked like the only restaurant was already full, we headed to the nearest large town and that would be Onda. I just love this name “Onda” … as in ¿Qué onda? or How’s it going? It’s such a cheerful name literally meaning “wave” … whoever named the town this was a genius; I can’t say it without smiling.
We found a restaurant on the edge of town, near a rather industrial area, and hoped the TripAdvisor ratings weren’t a lie. They were not, and the proof of that is that we jumped on our food so quickly I barely got a chance to snap a couple of shots of half-eaten dishes that I will not post here because they are quite pathetic. Not the taste, just the photos. The food was awesome and cheap and it explained why the place was full of what must have been the men who work in the area (we were the only women other than the staff). The best places in town are usually those where the locals go daily. I remember getting advice years ago when I prepared for my first visit to Spain: always follow the guys in business suits when looking for a place to eat lunch … they’ll lead you to their favourite spots and that usually also means the best spots. In Onda you substitute hardhats for suits but the premise very much works.
There is a castle in Onda (as there is in every town of roughly this size), but this was the first one we have come across that was actually closed to visitors. A little disappointed, we decided to work off the extra calories by walking around the old part of town, Onda’s own Ciutat Vella. As we started to climb the narrow streets into the heart of the neighbourhood, one thing stood out to us immediately: all the houses had what looked like steel gates across their front doors, sometimes just vertical bars, but usually solid metal gates, about waist-high. It turns out that Onda is rather famous for their own running of the bulls and these gates are there to protect the cheering crowds looking on from their front stoop. They also act as points of safety in case someone gets a little too close to the horns of the bulls and needs to bail–all he (and it is inevitably a “he”, am I right?) has to do is jump to safety while the bull is stopped in its tracks by the gate. Judging by the number of gates with obvious dents in them, I’d say this happens a lot. As we walked around these narrow streets, and believe me, they’re pretty narrow, I tried to imagine how crazy the whole event must be; how can the bulls change direction when coming to a corner? Is there a prescribed path or do they just run wherever they want? Where do they finish the run? I have no answers to any of these questions, of course, so I must add Onda to my list of town to return to for this very special event, whenever running with the bulls is a thing again. And before you even think it, no, I will not run with them … I seriously doubt I’d be able to outrun fairly slow-walking zombies, never mind real live bulls. I will be quite happy to be a spectator though.
Eventually we came across a lovely little square and a list/map of nearby historical monuments all tourists are encouraged to visit. We decided to look for one specific convent which sounded interesting but all the people we asked for help in finding it seemed totally unable to do so, which was strange since we were pretty sure we were asking this of people who were clearly locals. It’s amazing how little some people know about their own towns, nay, neighbourhoods, or maybe they were just having a little fun with three lost-looking women. I don’t know … but it was quite amusing. I don’t particularly mind just wondering around to see what I can find and we did eventually find the place without any of the locals’ help.
We also stumbled on a very cool little plaza that very cleverly counteracted the steepness of the hill Onda is built on by having multiple terraces and stairs to “even it out” a bit. That’s where we were attacked by a vicious animal who was clearly the guard here. OK, that’s a bit of an exaggeration: this was a tiny little puppy but he sure had a personality of a much larger creature, and instead of attacking us he just wanted to play and get scritches. Ewa and I had to oblige him, of course, because he really was very small and all by himself with no other human around. I desperately tried to snap photos of him and grab some video all while also trying to play with him, a job I am really, really bad at (the videoing … I do know how to play with a puppy). After quite a few minutes of this madness we started to get worried about the little dude since we certainly couldn’t take him with us and yet he kept following us further and further from whence he came. We had to find his people so we took him back to where we thought he came from and started calling for anyone who might know him. Finally a man came out and claimed ownership of the super active pup who had not yet slowed down, even for a second. We also discovered that his name was Attila! The puppy, not the guy … and a more apt name he could not have. I wonder if he was named that because he was so fearless or he was so fearless because he had to live up to his name … in either case, his name was absolutely perfect.
As you can see, I have figured out how to make videos work. Please, enjoy little Attila 🙂
