Walking from our flat to the city centre along the beach took about an hour. There were already sunbathers soaking up the hot sunshine on the sand, and hardy runners belting along the promenade. The local men wore long smart casual trousers and proper shirts, often Oxfords with button down collars. It's hot, but they look cool. Today I'm wearing checked shorts and a Gap Hawaiian style shirt with a blue baseball cap. I might as well have a big sign over my head that says TOURIST on it. But I'm from Lincolnshire and probably have Nordic ancestry, so I'm not designed for hot weather. Wearing shorts and a short sleeved shirt allows the breeze access to my axial regions. I need a hat to stop my bald patch from frying in the Mediterranean sun. So I'm adapted in my own way, and look like many other middle aged north European men. I just saw a couple dressed entirely in black, who looked much worse than me. They have probably been Goths for the last thirty years, and aren't going to change now, even if the look they perfected for Cure concerts isn't best suited to Andalusia.
The centre of Malaga is quite small, about a kilometre across, but is lovely. There is a long park full of shady palm trees and blooming jacaranda trees.Today there was a promotion for olive oil, so about every fifty metres there was a small stand with a young lady offering tastes of different oils. I was peckish, so tried it twice, and the oil from Barcelona was my favourite. I appreciated the gesture, but I'm unlikely to change my habit of buying Lidl Extra Virgin. I love the term Extra Virgin, it describes how I felt when I was seventeen!
We stopped for cafe con leche, and it was so good we had another cup. The coffees are about half the size you would get in London, but are really tasty. I visited the caballeros (gents) for a comfort break, but couldn't get out again. I twisted the little lever that sits inside of the big knob to lock myself in, but it wouldn't let me out again!I twisted it to the left and right many times BUT I WAS TRAPPED! I considered making a pathetic cry for help, but luckily another customer released me from the outside. He spoke to me in Spanish, and I smiled and left quickly muttering "gracias". I sat down with Julie again and she told me my flies were down. Sometimes it's hard being an English man abroad.
After exploring the streets of the centro area for a while, I started hunting around And found a cafe with a menu del dia that I liked the look of. After a started of salmorejo (cold soup) , I had pescada frita, fried fish, for my second course. It was a dinner plate full of fried whitebait, mussels, squid and cod, the Mediterranean must be exhausted of fish from my dinner alone! That was followed by a posters (pudding) of tiramisu and a cana of beer. Lunch cost ten Euros, what a deal!
After lunch I lumbered over to the Alcazaba, Malaga's Moorish castle and palace. It doesn't have the scale or lavishness of the Alhambra, but has many of the same features we have seen in other Andalusian monuments; patios, gardens, triple arches, decorated ceilings, fountains, orange tree and wonderful views of the city and the sea. Being gluttons for monuments we then hiked up a considerable hill to the Gibralfaro, a castle built by Yusuf I of Granada and last used in the civil war in 1936. Being a Spanish monument, it has a bar where you can buy a pint of lager in a proper beer mug.
A just reward for all the effort in the hot sunshine.
Man eating whitebait!
View from the Alcazaba
Alcazaba walls
