IF YOU INTEND crossing Spain in the next while, do your best to drop into the very special historic town that my 17-year-old daughter Daisy and niece Mel and I discovered recently.
We ladies had set out on an adventure to see Spain from north to south, and the discovery of the little-known Tudela made the trip all the more memorable.
First we flew from Ireland to Bilbao, where we stayed two nights, and visited the spectacular Guggenheim Museum. The two 17-year-olds were not impressed with the exhibitions of surreal art. But me? I was happy to cross this off my list of things to do before I die.
Next we took the bus - CIÉ take note, it was comfortable and air-conditioned - to visit my cousin Paul in Tudela, about an hour west of Zaragoza. He was waiting for us at the bus station when we pulled in at 6pm in temperatures of 28 degrees.
He had not prepared us for the delight in store. Tudela is a typical Spanish town, split into two, old and new. My cousin lives in the old part, which is full of small, ancient streets.
The streets are so narrow that one neighbour can lean out the front window and shake hands with the neighbour opposite.
Tudela hosts many festivals (above). While we were there the festival of San Pedro took place, with fire works, music, dancing, singing, eating and drinking. We queued with all the locals for sardines freshly cooked on the street . . . for free.
In the centre of the town there is a 12th-century cathedral and the steeple is a nesting place for storks. They are a noisy lot that make tapping sounds.
With regret we left this wonderful town, with its great bars and tapas to die for, after five days. And onward to Madrid, Malaga and then our final destination, Nerja.
But Tudela was our undisputed favourite.