Isabella is deep in the mountains still. I’m just going to share this passage* as is, because she is 100% smitten with the scenery:
“I rode up one great ascent where hills were tumbled about confusedly; and suddenly across the broad ravine, rising above the sunny grass and the deep green pines, rose in glowing and shaded red against the glittering blue heaven magnificent and unearthly range of mountains, as shapely as could be seen, rising into colossal points, cleft by blue ravines, broken up into sharks’ teen, with gigantic knobs and pinnacles rising from their inaccessible sides, very fair to look upon — a glowing, heavenly, unforgettable sight, and only four miles off.
“Mountains they looked not of this earth, but such as one sees in dreams alone, the blessed ranges of ‘the land which is very far off.’”
“They were more brilliant than those incredible colors in which painters array the fiery hills of Moab and Desert, and one could not believe them for ever uninhabited, for on them rose, as in the East, the similitude of stately fortresses, not the gray castellated towers of feudal Europe, but the gay, massive, Saracenic** architecture, the outgrowth of solid rock.”
Reader: I want to go there.
* which I dare you to diagram
** “Islamic architecture consisting chiefly of mosques and tombs and characterized by decorated surfaces, bulbous domes, and horseshoe, pointed, and multifoil arches”