Spain~Costa del Sol~March, 1994

Tuesday, March 15, 1994

It seems years since Paige and I were at Tuckers discussing wedding reception plans, but it was only yesterday. After meeting with Don Brown, Jerry and I left the Island and drove, without mishap, to Kennedy. We parked in long-term and discovered shortly thereafter that Jerry had left his jacket somewhere between the car and the terminal. The plane left on time and we were off. The meal was typical bad airline style, but Frexinet was $1 for a small bottle, so I had two of them and a sleeping pill and was out for almost three hours (the eyeshades helped too). Landed in Madrid and transferred to a flight for Malaga, where we were met by Gabriel, who directed us to a van to our hotel in Torremolinas, Bel Playa (beautiful beach). Someone’s bottle of brandy had broken in transit and soaked Jerry’s clothes, so we did laundry and hung the wet things over our balcony. This is a very nice place, right on the Mediterranean, with a gorgeous pool and garden area. We’re on the eighth of nine floors, and our balcony gives us a splendid view of the sea.

Gabriel was a little disappointed that we didn’t want to book tours and excursions with him and generally turned surly. He told us there was no Avis office (where we had a confirmation for a car waiting) in Torremolinas and that it was an $11 cab ride to the nearest Avis office. By this time we were starving so we walked across the street to a beach café (there are dozens up and down the ocean) and had a sandwich then went for a walk.

We set off to find Avis. We followed the signs to Beniamina (urbo centro) and then found a tourist booth where we got directions to the address in the confirmation letter. We climbed away from the sea to a warren of tiled, auto-free streets filled with bodegas, boutiques and bars where we found, eventually, a travel agent with a disconnected Avis sign inside on the floor. It seems there had been a “misunderstanding” and our car was actually waiting for us in Malaga. We negotiated and whined a bit, then took the train back to the airport where we found the Avis desk and got our car. The good news is that they were out of the small Opal we had reserved, so they gave us a 230E Mercedes instead. We drove back, took a nap and shower and returned to La Nogalera to shop and watch people. We ate seafood (shrimp with eyes) at El Bodega at a window table, walked some more, came back to the hotel with every intention of getting a good night’s sleep.

Wednesday, March 16

Our neighbors partied all night, but we felt pretty rested. The buffet breakfast left something to be desired: powdered eggs, strange bologna, two sizes (same taste) of hot dogs, good rolls and canned fruit.

Headed for Granada. East along the sea, through urban “resorts” to Torre del Mar. Then north toward the Sierra de Almijaia Mountains. A side trip (many miles) to a village called Macharauiaya was quite an experience: high above the sea, with narrow cobblestone streets and a church with locked doors. Further above us, workmen hoisted wheelbarrows of building materials to the tops of houses covered with flowers. Back at the coast, a new golf course development dominated the landscape. Crossed into the province of Granada, high in the mountains, and entered a vast region of truck farms and olive groves, all set amidst towering peaks, with the immense snow-covered Sierra Nevadas in the background. The villages were exactly as we had pictured: snow white, terraced into the hills. There were flocks of goats and sheep wandering through narrow, twisted streets, and even though the main highway was twisted and narrow, we didn’t have anywhere near the number of trucks, busses, and even cars we did in France and Italy. Everywhere were olive and almond groves. We saw every kind of farming, from tractors to men with hoes and burros.

Granada was spectacular, different from anything either of us had seen before. Tiles, while beautiful, didn’t compare to Ravenna’s mosaic, but the combination of shapes and light seemed to make the courtyards and entryways come alive. While western churches use stained glass; in these rooms artists carved openings to allow the sky to make patterns of its own high above, and colors were applied to three dimensional surfaces reflecting light. The gardens were beautiful: oranges and bright flowers, but the over-riding sense was the sound of water everywhere. It was a wonderful visit. Jerry compared it to Versailles, and I agree.

The trip back to Torremolinas was even prettier than the one of the morning. We came south through the Sierra de Loja and the Sierra Corda, absolutely spectacular views and wonderful clean white towns. Stopped for a beer on top of a mountain, looking over Malaga, “Afrique” and the Mediterranean. We had almedeas frites (almonds), aceitunas (olives) and plata del monte (sausage, pork, eggs and pommes frites) with wine while the sun went down. Home to our resort.

Thursday, March 17

What a great day!! The variety of climes was unbelievable. We left Torremolinas and drove southwest along the coastal highway through Benalmedena and Mijas, beautiful white towns. In Mijas we visited a stone church, cave like, honoring Santa Maria de la Pena. People had hung up hanks of hair inside and stuffed notes in holes in the rocks. Then on through Marbella and Punto Banos.

Next an unbelievable ride through the Sierrania de Ronda. High mountains of complete desolation, twisting and turning on narrow roads, finally opening, like Shangri La to a beautiful, fertile valley of olive trees and orange groves and the white town of Ronda. We toured this town, separated by a huge, deep gorge, and lunched at a restaurant where they started us with a sherry, then Jerry had gazpacho garni and I had two quail roasted with garlic, with a half liter of wine and an anisette in which soaked two huge grapes.

Then off through the heart of the white towns, beautiful Grazelema and Benocaz and rather tacky Ubrique. Jerry did a great job of driving through very narrow streets. Then we took the autovia back to Ronda and began a climb through the mountains back to Malaga, which we reached, tired and hungry, about 7:30. We recovered enough to drive to Carrhuela, where we dined on the beach at Casa Prudencio on the specialty of the house: lubina a la sel, sea bass and sole, cooked in an oblong pan, the fish is completely covered with white salt, which is then scraped away, tableside, revealing delicious tender white fish. It was great. Home and had a brandy on the beach. Planned a slightly shorter day for tomorrow.

Friday, March 18

More interesting country today. Our next door neighbors got in at 3:30 AM and screamed and yelled until just before the trash trucks came. We pounded on the walls.

Headed north out of Malaga on the autovia, turning off across some wild country toward Villanueve de la Concepcion. Picked up a hitchhiker with no teeth. He was, like everyone else over 40, walking to town, only seven or eight miles. He pointed us toward the Torcal National Park, strewn with building-sized boulders. From there we arrived at Antequerra, with a wonderful Alcazaba, high on a hill. This city is apparently very interested in its past, and is spending lots of time and money restoring its monuments. The church at the foot of the castle is now a concert hall and the center for restoration documentation. I liked this town a lot and would love to come back.

From here we took another green route to Alora, in the Valley of the Sun. I don’t know why, but here was the lushest land we’ve seen so far, with miles and miles of orange and lemon groves. Everywhere we’ve been people here seemed to love flowers. But, like the birds caged on every balcony, the flowers have been confined and containerized. In the Alora region, the land sang with color. Flowers and flowering vines erupted everywhere: wisteria, fuscia, poppies, daisies, roses and unknown purple and yellow flowers on every doorstep and in every field.

We stopped at the tourist house and got maps through the Garganta del Chorro and past the Desfiladuo de los Gitanes, a narrow gorge with a path even we didn’t try. We drove up the mountains to a reservoir where we met some expatriated English, now living in Mijas. They like the weather. We gave them some oranges we had bought yesterday as we picnicked on jamon and queso. Then along a green mountain lake and south through more citrus groves back to Alora. The route back to Malaga, along the river was marked green, but seemed industrial to me.

We arrived back at the hotel in time to spend an hour or so by the pool. Then we set off for dinner and found a treasure, Dona Francisquita in Nogailara. We had tapas (tiny clams in olive oil and garlic) and went to dinner at 8:40. We were the only diners then or later, and had a marvelous meal with great service. Restaurants here start off with complementary appetizers, usually olives in garlic and pickled veggies. Here is was wonderful pate and salad. Then I had the house special creamy shrimp bisque and Jerry had salad with smoked duck and salmon in walnut vinaigrette. Then I had lean duck breast in a brown sauce and Jerry had pork torenados with pepper. We thought we were done, but out came chocolate truffles and a choice of brandies. Unforgettable, and under $50 including a bottle of interesting, perfumey white wine.

We have new neighbors tonight. They’re already in, so sleep should be fine, until the trash trucks come. Tomorrow, Gibraltar.

Saturday, March 19

This was our day for Jerry to see Gibraltar. We planned a route that was mainly interstate and left on time. Detoured to Ojen, a peaceful mountain town, and looked for the famous “capra hispanica” (wild goat). Didn’t see any, but it was a nice drive. Then back to the autovia, with another detour from the glamour of the coast to Casares, a white town, spread out on a hill at the foot of a ruined fortress. We took the rural route down to Estepona. It’s hard to describe these roads: narrower than a suburban driveway with a mile unprotected drop off on both sides.

Gibraltar turned out to be a bad idea. First, it is a typical port town, ugly, ugly, ugly. Gypsies and dirt. Second, there was a huge line to the customs line where we discovered that the hotel still l had my passport. So we took a picture of the rock and returned to Spain.

Up toward Ronda, through citrus groves. We saw one place where eight or ten storks had built nests and were feeding their young. Further on there were none. We stopped to eat the lunch we had bought at a supermercado: ham, cheese, tomatoes and fresh strawberries, washed down with Sangre de Toro.

Took a turnoff back to Estenpona, an engineering masterpiece, fifty yards of paving, fifty yards of dirt, fifty yards of parallel half and half, for twenty-five miles. Very interesting. Then back to Torremolinas. I saw a wild goat!! Stopped to check for dinner at a wonderful place, “La Mirage,” but they didn’t have anything available till 10 PM. Back at the hotel, we showered and then went out to dinner at a nice place overlooking the sea. The shellfish soup was OK, but the king prawns were excellent.

Then we went to Carahuela and had a brandy and espresso while we watched the soccer match at the same fish place we had enjoyed on Thursday. Tomorrow is Sunday and we head for the snow-capped Sierra Nevada and our last day.

Sunday, March 20

When we left this morning, we worried about the fact that we had neither map nor directions for the mountains. Nevertheless, we took off. Drove east on the main highway, then turned north toward Granada. When we reached the turnoff for Lanejaron we though we were way ahead of schedule. We were wrong. We turned east, through Lenjaron, where we bought ham and almond cheese in the “last touch” of urban civilization on the Alpujana highway. Drove north to Bubrion, a centro de turistico, and bought a ceramic jar for aceitunas, then attempted the climb to Mulheren, the highest point on the Iberian Peninsula. We left on a “camino vecla” (forest road0 and got pretty far (including a lunch stop) before the road became snowed in. When we tried to turn around, we got stuck, but eventually (with some help) got loose and returned to Bubion.

We did a circle, returning to Orgive and then to Motril, where we got stuck in Sunday driver traffic to Malaga. Eventually we got home, showered and went to dinner at Achclya. I had gazpacho and Jerry had shellfish soup. Then we shared paella and came home to pack.