Driving to Morella was just fine. Driving into Morella was another story.
We left Tarragona by way to the aqueduct (only had to make one u-turn to find the parking lot entrance) and enjoyed good roads and scenic views along our route.




I knew Morella could be a challenge because it is an ancient city built on a hilltop–built long before cars and with a higgledypiggledy layout that speaks to organic growth, hilly topography, and the Arab preference for roads that were not straight (easier to defend against invaders). What I didn’t expect was Google maps to send us the wrong way up an increasingly narrow cobblestone street. Just as it started to rain.
R was remarkably stoic about my increasing panic as we made our way up the one lane road, but even he seemed a little tense when we encounter the van coming downhill towards us.

R stopped, I got out and went to talk with the guys in the van. My Spanish was failing me, so the driver, with an Eastern European accent asked “what language do you prefer, English, French, German?” I gratefully chose English and he talked me through a route that would get us past him and onto the main ring road again. From there to the parking lot and a hike to the hotel.


At least we didn’t try to drive these stairs.






