At Spain's Finca La Bobadilla, Modern Luxury Meets Timeless Traditions
Toward the end of the last century, a great many hacienda hotels were constructed in southern Spain in a style that was meant to look old. Their architecture was oriented around central cobbled plazas and decorative fountains—a constant reminder of the Moorish roots of Al-Andaluz. Their windows had heavy iron bars in spite of the modern security systems that rendered them unnecessary. Their terra-cotta floors had a ready-made patina. Finca La Bobadilla is one of them.
It's tempting to dismiss the whole lot of them as fake. But in the case of La Bobadilla, that would be missing the point. It's true that no Victorian-era love affairs unfolded here, that no families hid out during wartime, that the entire thing was just fields half a century ago. But La Bobadilla is not fake. Its Andalusian hospitality is as real as it gets.
In the 1980s, three Swiss travelers fell in love with Andalusia and bought about 750 acres of land north of Málaga with an eye toward tourism. They started with a restaurant, then opened a hotel with 15 rooms, then added more and more until they had a resort of 73 rooms on nearly 1,800 acres to provide more privacy.
The lobby, which was modeled on the mosque-cathedral of Córdoba Courtesy of the hotel
They were 'selling Andalusia,' says La Bobadilla front of house manager Jaime Estellés. They weren't shy about repeating their references: The courtyard, with the (unconsecrated) chapel as its highest building, resembles so many nearby villages. The intricate arches of the lobby ceiling are modeled on the famous mosque-cathedral of Córdoba. Little reflecting pools and fountains evoke the Alhambra.
Estellés joined the hotel earlier this year, when it became part of Único Hotels, Barcelona-based hotelier Pau Guardans' new collection of eight ultra-boutique properties around Spain. Guardans, the founder and former CEO of AC Hotels, 'looks for special locations,' says Estellés. 'He likes locations in the middle of nowhere,' the better to connect his guests with nature.
And so, even though the hotel makes a handy base for day trips to Málaga, Córdoba, Seville and Granada, its essence is that of rural Andalusia. Native forest slopes down the surrounding hills of the Sierra de Loja. Silvery green olive groves produce the oil that's served in the hotel's three restaurants. New stables house a half-dozen Andalusian horses, a nod to the equestrian traditions of the region. (But lavender, honey and the refreshing house wines come from Único's excellent hotels in Mallorca.)
Horseback riding on the grounds Courtesy of the hotel
The place wears its age comfortably, but there are plans for a down-to-the-walls refresh of the guest rooms during its annual closure later this year. (The last closure of the sort, they promise; there are plans to go year-round.) This will replace the 1990s geometric pastels with a modern 'calm' style—there were lots of flying linen curtains on the mood boards. It's already on display in the lobby, where everything is nubby textures, soft colors and Assouline Travel Series titles.
But the materials are somewhat immaterial. 'The employees are the important piece,' says Estellés, noting that quite a few have been here since the 1980s or '90s. Even the newer hires work with a relaxed confidence and genuine warmth. They live up to that classic-hotel cliché of forming quasi-friendships with the repeat guests—some of whom have repeated so many times that their preferred guest rooms now bear their names.
(No word yet on how those loyalists will respond to the upcoming renovations, but the designers are aiming for an evolution that won't alienate the old guard.)
Along with the warm hospitality, Único is upping the experience quotient of the hotel, even adding a kids' spa and pickleball courts for its American target market. There's an extensive spa for grown-ups, weekend yoga classes, walking trails and a fleet of electric to explore the grounds (now back down to about 700 acres), and various enclaves that can be set up for winsome picnics of jamón ibérico, local manchego, fluffy tortilla and fresh salads with tinned tuna.
A reflecting pool inspired by the Alhambra Courtesy of the hotel
They're organizing celebratory theme nights, where chefs grill meats or cook big pans of rice in the courtyards, the better to keep guests entertained onsite. But they're also going all-in on the off-campus experiences. A standout is a visit to the nearby Riofrío, the first certified organic caviar farm in the world, where guests can clamber into the tanks with the sturgeon before tucking into guided tastings of the eggs.
That caviar isn't regularly on the menu at Finca La Bobadilla, but there are plenty of other good things to eat. The fine dining restaurant, La Finca, holds a Michelin star, even as veteran chef Fernando Arjona and his team have loosened things up, moving away from a long tasting menu toward a relaxed a la carte approach. At lunchtime, the poolside El Mirador has a somewhat lighter and healthier Mediterranean menu.
And at the heart of the hotel, there's Bar La Plaza, modeled on the lively gathering places of traditional villages. The gourmet tapas menu hits all the classics—croquettes, gilda skewers (anchovies, olives, and hot peppers), partridge salad with escabeche (pickled onions and sweet peppers), Russian salad with anchovies—and the execution is solid.
Sitting on the terrace, beneath the fairy lights and the stars, with a plate or two and a glass or two, continues centuries of Andalusian life. It doesn't matter when anything was built. Maybe purists will still call some of it fake. But it all feels undeniably real. MORE FROM FORBES Forbes This Uniquely Catalan Luxury Hotel Puts Priorat On The Wine Travel Map By Ann Abel Forbes Portugal's Costa Vicentina: 11 Top Hotels And Restaurants To Know By Ann Abel Forbes Spain's Finca La Donaira Is Reinventing The Luxury Hotel In Andalusia By Ann Abel
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Forbes
3 hours ago
- Forbes
In Europe's Largest Artificial Lakeland, Tourism Is At A Crossroads
The Rusty Nail, an observation tower in Germany's Lusatian Lake District. Aren Elliott From the top of the Rusty Nail, a striking architectural observation tower that stands sentinel over the Lusatian Lake District, you can see all the way to the Czech border. There are lakes, orchards, enormous windmills and, far in the distance, the Schwarze Pumpe power station, an 800 megawatt electric power plant that burns lignite coal. This is a picture of Germany's past — and future. "Germany is phasing out coal energy production by 2038," explains Heinz Müller, a former engineer who worked in eastern Germany's coal mines. It's also an image of Germany's tourism future. This part of the country used to have a reputation for its lignite strip mines and heavy pollution. It's a dramatic contrast to the scene today. Just below the Rusty Nail, there are pristine pine forests, lakes that glisten under the sun, and immaculate asphalt cycle paths. The only signs of human activity below are a few fellow cyclists. The air is clear again. Heinz Müller, a former engineer in eastern Germany's lignite mines. Aren Elliott After strip mining, a sustainable future Müller witnessed the region's transformation, which began with the end of mining in the late 1960s at what is now Lake Senftenberg. Authorities considered three possibilities: forestry and nature conservation, agricultural use, or recreational use, which entailed filling the pits with water. They chose all three. Lusatia's transformation isn't just an environmental project. "It's a natural example of sustainability," says Müller. This region, once an industrial powerhouse, is transforming into a service economy, with tourism at its heart. It's a colossal undertaking, a more than $2 billion regeneration program that has turned former opencast mines into Europe's largest artificial lakeland. There are 26 new lakes, 13 of which are already accessible, many connected by canals and an impressive 300-mile network of cycle paths. This project has attracted global attention and has served as a model for large-scale landscape reconstruction and environmental cleanup. The goal is not just to clean up but to make these landscapes usable again, restoring or redesigning them in a manner appropriate to their new purpose. This region, once an industrial powerhouse, is transforming into a service economy, with tourism at its heart. It's a colossal undertaking, a more than $2 billion regeneration program that has turned former opencast mines into Europe's largest artificial lakeland. A view from the top of the Rusty Nail. In the distance, one of Germany's last remaining coal power plants. Aren Elliott A transition with challenges The transformation hasn't been easy. One major hurdle has been the acidity of the lakes. Müller says the water in these former pits initially had pH values below 5, due to minerals churned up during mining. To make them safe for aquatic life and human recreation, they had to be flushed with river water or have limestone poured in, raising the pH to fish-sustaining levels. Another persistent issue is ensuring the area's geological stability. The earth hauled out of the pits over decades was often simply deposited in loose piles, creating a risk of landslides. Continuous monitoring and remediation are crucial, since a misplaced step could cause a section to slide back into the water. It is a massive, ongoing engineering challenge beneath the tranquil surface. And while tourism jobs are growing and forming an important foundation for the region's renewed economic vitality, they can't fully replace the tens of thousands lost from the coal industry. This represents a fundamental shift not just in the landscape, but in the community itself. It's a transition that requires patience. Vacation in Lusatia? Lusatia is marketing itself as a major tourist destination, and aims to increase overnight stays from 930,000 to 1.5 million per year. So what is there to do, other than admire the area's transformation? There's cycling, of course, with that extensive network of bike paths. Fishing, diving and horseback riding are important options, too. There are accommodations ranging from simple campsites to floating vacation rental apartments, as well as luxury resorts. The four-star Seeschlößchen Ayurveda Spa & Hotel is a fascinating example of this new direction. It's an "adults-only" hideaway, focusing on wellness and nature. It offers a 5,000-square-meter spa with a heated outdoor pool. The hotel, whose name literally means "small castle by the sea," has a culinary approach that blends regional Lusatian cuisine with Ayurvedic dishes from Sri Lanka. Despite the challenges, Lusatia is experiencing a noteworthy ecological comeback. The lakes are now home to a thriving array of biodiversity. On the protected island in Lake Senftenberg, you can see over 80 different bird species, either nesting there or passing through on migration. More widely, animals and plants driven from other intensively farmed European landscapes, including wolves, the Eurasian hoopoe bird, and a plant called great horsetail, are reclaiming these areas. These newly created lakes also serve as vital water buffers against climate change, storing water during wet periods and releasing it during droughts, a crucial function for cities like Berlin that depend on water flowing through Lusatia. This whole region has become a giant laboratory for geologists, economists, and biologists, exploring what a post-industrial, rewilded landscape can become. The view from the Rusty Nail The panoramic view from the Rusty Nail is more than a look at Germany's energy past and future. This metal monolith offers a vantage point for what is possible, when it comes to sustainable tourism. It's a powerful metaphor for Lusatia itself – a region deeply scarred by its past, yet now reaching for something entirely new. The transformation here is a declaration of intent, a belief that even the most heavily industrialized areas can heal and thrive once more. But the road ahead won't be easy. The balance between sustainable energy, burgeoning tourism, and environmental preservation is a complex challenge. Will the influx of visitors compromise the delicate ecosystems that have only just begun to recover? Can the region adapt its energy infrastructure to meet the demands of a changing climate without damage to its economy? The Lusatian Lake District will probably have its answers by 2038 — if not sooner.
Yahoo
5 hours ago
- Yahoo
Real Madrid star responds to transfer interest from Benfica
Real Madrid are focusing on sales for the time being, with Rodrygo Goes, Ferland Mendy and David Alaba said to be leading contenders to depart the Santiago Bernabeu before the end of the summer. However, there are other players that have attracted interest, and among them is Brahim Diaz. In recent weeks, interest in Brahim has grown. Saudi Pro League sides Neom SC, Al-Nassr and Al-Hilal are keen, and they are prepared to pay €40m to prise him away from Real Madrid. And now, Benfica has joined the race. As per Record (via MD), the Portuguese giants want to sign Brahim as an alternative to Joao Felix, who recently joined Al-Nassr. The Morocco international, who has attracted further interest from top clubs in Europe, is seen as the ideal player to strengthen their squad. Image via Andre Coelho/EFE Brahim has no plans to leave Real Madrid However, the bad news for Benfica is that the matter is about to go the same way as their pursuit of Felix. As per Marca, Brahim has absolutely no intention of leaving Real Madrid this summer, and that is confirmed by the fact that he is about to sign a new five-year contract with the club. Equally, Real Madrid do not want to part ways with Brahim, who is counted on by new head coach Xabi Alonso. The 26-year-old will be a valuable squad player, especially with Jude Bellingham sidelined for the next three months after undergoing surgery on a niggling shoulder injury. It makes a lot of sense for Real Madrid to retain Brahim, given how impressive he has been since returning from Milan two summers ago. And the player himself will hope to help Los Blancos make a significant improvement on their fortunes from last season, in which they ended the campaign without winning a major trophy.
CNN
6 hours ago
- CNN
Scotland's Instagram Highway became an overtourism nightmare. It could be worse
Sign up for Unlocking the World, CNN Travel's weekly newsletter. Get news about destinations, plus the latest in aviation, food and drink, and where to stay. This past spring, when I pointed my car out of Inverness to begin a loop around Scotland's craggy northern shoreline, I was expecting trouble ahead. A decade ago, when the North Highland Initiative — a development charity set up under then-Prince Charles — renamed the circuit the North Coast 500 and started promoting the drive to tourists, I had been unconvinced it would work. I approved of any initiative aimed at drawing more visitors to a neglected part of my homeland, but recasting the ramshackle roads of the North Highlands as a desirable destination seemed like a stretch. Back then, the thought of the drive evoked memories from half a century before — of me and my nauseated siblings squashed inside a rusty Ford station wagon as it rolled through mile after mile of monotonous moorland. Also dampening my enthusiasm were recollections of the food endured in my 20s when introducing my girlfriend of the time to the region. She came up from England expecting langoustines leaping out of creels and venison from stags gralloched, or disembowelled, where they fell on a nearby bed of purple heather. More often than not, in the late 1980s and early 1990s, she had to settle for deep-fried scampi and frozen peas, garnished with a smear of tartare sauce squeezed from a plastic sachet. Yet the idea of making these overfamiliar highways and hostelries the theater for epic road trips worked. As a promotional move, the North Coast 500 was a masterstroke — too much of one, by most accounts. Thanks to the alchemy of marketing and social media, the 516-mile (830-kilometer) circuit, which starts and finishes in Inverness, became an irresistible, Instagram-friendly pilgrimage for people around the world, overwhelming the ability of the aging and underpopulated region, and its roads, to handle the pilgrims. Locals began losing patience with what happened next: Nose-to-tail motorhomes on single-track roads, grill dads scorching seafront meadows with disposable barbecues, everywhere becoming an open-air toilet. A decade after its launch, the NC500 is now seen as a textbook case of overtourism. At the end of last year, Fodor's Travel added the NC500 to its 2025 'No List' of destinations it recommends avoiding, on the grounds that the route's popularity had made it a threat to the natural environment and a 'nuisance' to roadside communities. But has it all been bad? When I drove the route, primed for a visit to a tourism-ravaged landscape, what I discovered was as much a case for the defense of the much-maligned road trip as an indictment of its negative impact. No tarmac was melted in the making of the digital phenomenon of the NC500. The roads are hardly any better under their new name than they were in the decades before the North Highland Initiative came up with the idea of marketing them as a destination, or a challenge, in themselves. Even so, the rechristened route captured the imagination of travel writers and visitor numbers soon began to rise. Everyone seemed to heap praise on the route. No one mentioned the annoying swarms of tiny biting midges that plague Scotland's west coast in the summer. As the positive publicity snowballed through the years, I began to find myself lured by thoughts of revisiting places with names as romantically resonant as Durness, Ullapool and Applecross. The Covid pandemic intervened before I had the opportunity to live out that daydream and by the time Britain had emerged from lockdowns, the image of the NC500 had changed. The founders imagined showcasing a Scotland of sea eagles soaring above secret coves and singing sands. When they envisioned sights that would linger for a lifetime in the mind's eye, they didn't have in mind little pagodas of soiled wet wipes used to cover the toilet tracks of wild campers caught short miles from the nearest public restrooms. When Richard and Jane Alcorn moved seven years ago to Thurso, near the northeastern tip of Scotland's mainland, to open a bed and breakfast, being close to the NC500 was part of why they chose the location. That decision has been rewarded with steady growth in visitors to their cosy Aurora B&B, but Richard says he understands why some of his fellow residents have come to resent the route. 'Initially the idea was for people to come in their cars, stay in local accommodation, buy from local restaurants and use local facilities. It was an admirable idea and we have seen the benefit of that,' he said. 'What you've seen since the second lockdown is people trying to have a freebie holiday. More and more caravans and camper vans, people parking up in lay-bys and trying to do it on the cheap. You can see why people get upset with camper vans parking in front of their living room windows, and then there's the abuse they get when they ask them to move on.' Thousands of people signed up to Facebook pages dedicated to chronicling such bad behavior. A backlash gathered momentum. As did misgivings about the NC500 brand passing from royal patronage to private ownership: Since 2018, North Coast 500 Ltd has been under the control of Anders Holch Povlsen, a Danish billionaire and Scotland's biggest landowner. I was wondering about this as an old school friend and I set off on a drizzly Sunday in late April. Our first stop was Dingwall, a small town located in rich farming land to the north of Inverness that I remember from my childhood as the well-manicured home of a late aunt and uncle. Lunch options were sparse and, on the High Street, the boarded-up shell of the semi-derelict Commercial Bar was an eyesore reminder that the town has known better times since it was founded as a Royal Burgh authorized by the Scottish Crown precisely 999 years ago. A bit of overtourism might not be the worst thing that could happen here, I thought, not for the last time on our trip. For the first two-thirds of our journey, we squinted at the views through a misted-up windscreen and wipers on full swipe, failing to spot any evidence of tourists making a nuisance of themselves. There were plenty of camper vans on the roads, but it appeared to be too early in the season for the traffic jams and blocked ambulances the Facebook sites had primed me to expect. Over four days, the only time we got stuck behind a slow-moving vehicle, the culprit was the clearly lost driver of a superstore home-delivery van. Tourism can be an easy scapegoat for problems it didn't create and cannot be expected to fix, I thought as we turned into the Old School restaurant and rooms on the banks of the fjord-like Loch Inchard on the North West Sutherland coast. Like many of the establishments on the NC500, this place has been geared to turning around most of its six bedrooms almost every day. Guests are encouraged to check in between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m., eat dinner between 6 p.m. and 8 p.m., breakfast by 9 the following morning and be gone by 10 a.m. The model can make it feel like 'regimented and rushed' has succeeded 'rough and ready' as the go-to descriptor for Highland hospitality. But any fears I had were dispelled by a few glasses of red wine and a stew of locally shot venison of the kind my girlfriend and I could only dream of back in the day. In the morning, the Old School's owner, Lisa MacLeod, shared her thoughts on the impact of the NC500, starting with an aspect of tourism that sometimes gets forgotten in the costs/benefits debate — the pleasure it has brought to those who might never have visited without it, and the sense of pride and satisfaction that offers to hosts. 'Obviously there are negative parts to it, but generally all these people get to see this most amazing part of the world that they probably wouldn't have known about otherwise,' she said. While the NC500 has been good for her seasonal business, MacLeod says it was always unrealistic to expect tourism alone to fix big issues such as the tendency of young people to leave the area for opportunities — or just the excitement — on offer elsewhere. 'The majority of people who live here either work offshore in the oil industry, or on the fish farms which bring a lot of young families in,' MacLeod said. 'The hotels and the B&Bs are not really what makes the money.' After a traditional Scottish fried breakfast, we set off to spot puffins, skuas and razorbills on Handa Island, where the sun appeared for the first time on our trip, splitting the clouds to light up the wildlife reserve's lovely bays in azure hues more usually associated with the Caribbean. By the time we rolled into the nearby coastal village of Scourie a few hours later, it was properly warm and we were ravenous. Which was well timed because here, at the bottom of one of the steep slender smallholdings, known as crofts, that run down to the bay is the kind of all-day Scottish dining venue I'd been fantasising about for decades. As we walk up to Grant and Heather Mercer's Crofters Kitchen food truck there is a hum of quiet contentment from the surrounding picnic tables and the sight of Heather updating the daily-changing specials blackboard is equally reassuring. Grant, a 33-year-old with 17 years of experience under his head chef's hat, has just taken delivery of some wild halibut from a local fisherman and, hours after it was landed, it is going straight on the menu. It is just the kind of thing this veteran of Scotland's long-hours hospitality culture envisaged himself doing when he and Heather first decided to embark on this business venture. Their goal was to spend more time together as a family, while taking advantage of the demand generated by the NC500's success to serve up the kind of locally sourced, seasonal fare that remains the exception rather than the rule in these parts. The halibut, grilled to moist, flaky perfection and served with orzo pasta in a wild garlic pesto, is one of the nicest things I've ever eaten in Scotland. How long I'd waited for this! As we ate, the Mercers' 15-month old son was toddling about. With his blond hair, he reminded me of my oldest boy at that age. My son's mother, the girlfriend with the aversion to scampi suppers, died suddenly 20 years ago, and I felt a stab of sadness that she was not here to enjoy the scene. Like the NC500, the Crofter's Kitchen was celebrating an anniversary. It's one year since it opened and the Mercers have been basking in five-star reviews while planning the next stage of their field-to-fork adventure — using a government business grant to convert a shipping container into indoor seating to serve food all year round, bringing more tourism revenue into the local community. 'As well as sourcing all the seafood locally, we produce a lot of our own vegetables and we also buy salads from other crofters, pork, and venison that's been shot on their land that I'll help them butcher,' Grant told me. 'The container will allow us to open almost all year round which will be great for the locals especially in the winter when there is not much open around here. The nearest Chinese takeaway is in Ullapool, a good 45-minute drive away.' I know from my own experience of living in one of Scotland's wet and windy corners that infrastructure is not just about parking places and smooth roads. A steady stream of visitors can be the difference between a local store with barely filled shelves and one laden with unexpected choices. As Grant Mercer points out, every halibut delivered by hand to the Crofter's Kitchen is a fish that is not being loaded onto a truck for export — an economic pivot that balances the impact of the NC500's tourists against the environmental costs of the region's participation in a globalized fishing industry. Heading in a counterclockwise direction, as we did, the road south of Scourie is where the route is at its most breathtaking. Long before anyone had thought of the NC500 concept, the mountains of Assynt and the Applecross peninsula were a favoured destination for clubs of classic car owners. It was easy to understand why as we glided towards our final overnight stop on meandering corniches lined by banks of sun-drenched flowering gorse. James Bond's Aston Martin would be a good fit for the timeless elegance of these vistas but even in my slightly bashed Volvo, I had the pleasant feeling that I might be starring in a commercial for a posh watch brand. These sections of the route are endowed with such beautiful natural assets, it made me reflect on how the NC500 concept has also helped entice visitors to neighboring areas less blessed in the looks department. I also wondered why they were not inundated with tourists and the associated pressures decades ago — had they been, perhaps the infrastructure now coming under strain might already have been upgraded. Precise data on the economic impact of the NC500 is hard to pin down and often contested, but most analysts agree that the route has helped boost visitor numbers in the broader Highland region (up from 5.1 million in 2012 to 8.4 million in 2023, according to the local council), while tourist spending has grown less quickly (from £1.38 billion to £1.68 billion in the same period.). VisitScotland, the national tourism body, says the NC500 has undeniably raised the region's international profile and drawn in extra visitors to the benefit of the local economy. 'The global attention of the route has created some challenges, and we know there is a careful balance to strike between the benefits that tourism brings and ensuring communities feel comfortable and capable of welcoming visitors,' a spokesman said, highlighting the body's efforts to spread tourism over the whole year, encourage longer stays and plug infrastructural gaps exposed by increased tourist numbers. Since 2018, VisitScotland has distributed £20 million, or about $27 million, through a Scottish government fund to develop rural tourism infrastructure, including many projects around the NC500, like parking, public toilets and motorhome facilities, the spokesman said. Such efforts have yet to persuade the skeptics that the route's problems can be mitigated without a reduction in visitors. According to the travel experts at Fodor's, the impact of NC500-led overtourism is now so severe it is 'steadily changing the region's culture,' while a recent article in the New York Times was headlined: 'Should You Drive Scotland's 'Ultimate Road Trip?' Locals Say Maybe Not.' Our trip left me unpersuaded — especially given that around one in seven of the region's jobs depend on tourism. Even if it were true that the culture of the Highlands is being re-sculpted by the invisible hand of tourism, would that necessarily be a bad thing? Our final hotel on the route provided an answer of sorts. It was the only one I'd been able to find in a 30-mile radius offering two single rooms for under $200 a night and my heart sank as we checked in — the hotel's public bar revealing itself as a grim haven from the brilliant sunshine, where the early evening crowd formed a depressing tableau of Scotland's public health challenges. Inspecting my closet-sized room, I clocked the polyester sheets and fraying carpet, but failed to spot that I'd be destined for a dawn wake-up thanks to the absence of proper curtains. Later on, getting ready for dinner in a nicer spot, we bumped into a former manager of the hotel and fell into good-humoured conversation about the lack of gentrification at his old place of employment. 'It's a bit of a rough old place,' I said. 'Mmm,' he replied. 'You should see it when the fishermen are in.'
