It is 3.30am in Seville and we are sitting under the stars, sipping fino sherry in La Carbonaria flamenco bar. The audience watches intently as a middle-aged man sings about the pain and suffering of existence.
As he sings, I realise I recognise his expression of anguish from somewhere. It cannot be dissimilar to the look etched upon my own face as I attempted to tackle some of the steeper ascents on the eight-day cycling trip through the hills of Andalucia I have just completed.
Arriving at Granada airport at the start of the holiday, I was expecting to meet a profusion of toned specimens equipped with muscled legs clothed in acres of lycra. Without wishing to deride the physical attributes of the other members of the group, the best legs I encountered on this trip belonged to pigs and were found hanging up in the many tapas bars we encountered. I came to Andalucia for the cycling but rediscovered one of the best things about Spain - the food.
The six days of cycling started high in the Sierra Nevada. These mountains dominate the skyline above the ancient Moorish city of Granada and remain snow-capped (hence the name) for much of the year. Even in April, the roads are still busy with cars carrying skiers up to the top of the mountain to make the most of the snow before the season ends.
The first day's cycling started at well over 2,000m, from where it was a fabulous 30km descent into the city before heading out into the rolling countryside. We lunched next to lake Bermejales, whose beautifully clear waters revealed huge shoals of trout that appeared to be sunbathing in the shallows. The afternoon was more demanding with lots of ups and downs and some of the group took the opportunity to hitch a lift in our guide's van.
This practice wasn't encouraged by our group leader, Patrick, mainly because there wasn't enough room in the van for everyone at once. It was, nevertheless, reassuring to know that the van was there if you or your bike broke down on the road.
Most of the rides were not too difficult. The route is high in altitude but relatively low in mileage - the total distance covered was only around 220 miles - so it's within the abilities of most people. In a group whose ages ranged from 20-something to over 50, no one found it too difficult.
Someone looking for a really challenging ride would probably need to choose a different type of trip; for the average cyclist, though, it's a delight. The routes we travelled along were generally quiet, with very few stretches where bikes competed with cars for road space.
The second day of cycling helped me to understand fully the importance of good cycling shorts. My saddle, which had seemed relatively comfortable on the first day, seemed to have changed overnight into an instrument of torture, which lessened my enjoyment of the scenery we passed through.
We started with gently rolling countryside - not the best terrain for someone with a sore backside. Our lunch stop at Fuente de Piedra, a natural salt lake that is home to thousands of flamingos, made things more bearable. Patrick's picnic lunch of spicy chorizo, olives, cheese and salad also went a long way to reviving the spirits.
The afternoon's ride, which seemed to be straight into the wind whichever way we went, made us all glad to arrive in Antequera. This town is one of the architectural showpieces of Andalucia and there was plenty of time to enjoy it, too. On this sort of trip you can stop and take a picture or just contemplate the view and have no fear of being left behind.
Patrick was superbly knowledgeable about the region - its byroads, its wildlife and the best eating and drinking spots - and would point out nightingales singing in the hedgerows or vultures soaring in the thermals. Those with an interest in architecture were also catered for. Each day's cycling usually finished early enough to leave plenty of time for a stroll around town. Most of the towns had at least a couple of buildings that were worth taking the time to see.
By the third day, my body had got used to being in the saddle and had given up protesting about it. This left me free to enjoy the ride below the Sierra Torcal mountains to the lakes and pine forests of Ardales natural park.
In April, the green hills and valleys had not yet been turned brown by the fierce Andalucian sun, and the smells of the wild flowers and herbs of forest and field filled the air.
The great thing about cycling all day is that it leaves you with a fantastic appetite: you can eat and drink to your stomach's content, then burn it off the next day and do it all over again. In the course of the trip, we visited Archidona, Antequera and Ronda, but we also took in Conejo, Trucha and Chuleta de Cerdo. The first three are beautiful Andalucian towns, full of fascinating history and architecture. The others are three of the region's culinary delights, made from wonderfully fresh local produce and full of rich flavours. (Rabbit, trout and pork chops, in case you were wondering.)
The final day of cycling took us up to Arcos de la Frontera - the gateway between the relative cool of the mountains and the intense heat of the plains. The town is perched precariously on top of a cliff and the ascent was a real test in the 30C heat. But the promise of an ice-cool beer in the air-conditioned parador at the top of the town, combined with the knowledge that this was the last climb of the trip, was just enough incentive to keep us going.
Half an hour later, with what seemed almost indecent haste, our bikes had been put into a trailer and we were in the van heading to Seville.
After a week in the saddle, the final night was a chance to take full advantage of what the city had to offer while safe in the knowledge that there was no need to get on a bike the next day - an opportunity not to be missed.
A dozen tapas bars, one restaurant, several flamenco performances and a nightclub later, we felt we had successfully accomplished our goal. By 6am, my memories of aching legs had all but disappeared. Unfortunately, the ache in my head was only just beginning.
· A Journey through Andalucia was with Exodus
