Vejer was absolutely nothing like what I expected. For starters, in my initial "research" I somehow missed that it was a Pueblo Blanco (ehhhm, "White Town"). My personal tour guide told me at some point, probably over our first exhausted/triumphant/"We Survived Africa" dinner, that Vejer and Ronda were consistently voted (here, for example) two of the most beauuuuuutiful pueblos blancos in Andalucia.
And indeed it was beauuuuuutiful. But having spent several days in Ronda by now as well, I have to say that Vejer itself left me a bit (ahahahahaha) cold. Whereas Ronda feels alive, like a real city with a pulse (I imagine this has to do with its size, 40,000 people or so), Vejer was just too small and well-preserved, kind of like a giant hotel.
Although I must say, I did not see a whole hell of a lot of the city. Vejer would be the second city in a row where I immediately and forlornly realized that my navigation plans had not at all considered altitude. Our asses and feet were already more than a little sore after a couple of multi-hour walks in Tangier, and Vejer's hills were really playing on an entirely different level. It seemed to be (illogically) all uphill, and just when you thought, ok, I really need 30 seconds of level ground, there'd be a hill so steep that it featured stone stairs instead of an incline.
And it was still really fucking hot outside, 42C/108F. My trusty tour guide had secured accommodations that featured a bathtub on the roof (fyi this was not the only bathtub), and this helped some, but you kind of had to wait until dark to use it. Or at least I thought that that seemed like the right time to schedule my own baths, you know, for the neighbors' sake.
All the rest of these photos are taken from the extremely pimpish roof terrace of the aribnb, it was a great place to stay.
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