We left Marbella without major incident around 11 AM. The big win was retrieving Judy’s small bag from the bus company in Malaga. She’d left it on the bus returning from the Alhambra and we determined on Friday that the cleaning crew had found it. SInce Malaga is on the route from Marbella to Madrid we only spent and extra 15 minutes to retrieve it. The bag is just big enough to carry a water bottle and Judy’s billfold so it’s a great walk around carryall. Her billfold wasn’t in it this time but a debit card and a credit card were, so getting it back was a big deal.

The trip to Madrid was smooth. We’d scored some churros in Marbella so we had something to munch on. A quick bathroom break turned into Coke Zero, café con leche and an ice cream bar. Then lunch later on. The two of them had veal. I had gazpacho and ensalada rusa, also known as Spanish salad, which is in the final diagnosis is potato salad with peas and carrot bits stirred in. Judy thinks there must be beets in it because of the rust = Russian name but I didn’t taste any.

The countryside was at first the mountainous terrain of Andalucia we’ve become accustomed to but by La Mancha and Toledo provinces it pretty much flattened out and we saw vineyards, fruit trees and even hay fields to break the monotony of olive groves. 

It never ceases to amaze me how many olive trees there are in that part of the country and causes me to wonder how in the world all those olives are harvested. Enrique says itinerant workers from Rumania and Africa come in to shake the trees and gather the fruit. But there are only so many people in Rumania and Africa to shake a gazillion trees and gather the fruit.

We passed through the Jaén region, famous for its high quality olive oil, La Mancha province and its Manchugo cheese and Valdepenas and its wine. The highways were excellent but watch out for the well-marked speed traps: cameras take pictures of speeders and send them a ticket. I should know; I got nabbed in northern Spain four years ago. Cost me 50 clams before the dust settled.

So we’re now at Enrique’s apartment. We’ll relax for a bit and then decide on dinner, in or out. Tomorrow’s flight isn’t until 1:20 PM but the NATO summit is going on in Madrid and they warn us to expect delays. So Enrique will drop us at the airport after breakfast and we’ll use the Iberia lounge, to which our business class tickets entitle us, to while away the hours until flight time.

Thanks for traveling with us on this trip. This will be our last blog posting but we’ll be back on the air beginning on August 11 when we head to Switzerland with grandson Carter. See you then!

 

The focus today wasn’t towns or cities but mountains – the Sierra de las Nieves – The Mountains of the Snow – an hour’s drive north of Marbella was where we explored today. We did find several very nice small villages in our travels but that wasn’t our main objective. For me, it was a fitting last day of official touring, a chance to appreciate (and photograph) the natural beauty of Andalusian Spain.

But first, before we left, we had a master class in preparation of the Spanish tortilla presented by Chef Enrique. The Spanish version has no relationship to the Mexican tortilla. No taco shells, no beans, no tomatoes, no rice. The only thing the two versions have in common is onions but that’s a point of contention. 

The Spanish tortilla consists of eggs, potatoes and onions, cooked in olive oil, sort of like an omelet. In Spain there are those who want their tortillas with onions and those who think onions in tortillas is an abomination. It’s like Real Madrid vs. Barcelona Club. It approaches left vs. right politics (in any country these days), any two of which spark not intellectual disagreement but a ranting emotional outburst. Enrique says that if conversation is lagging, just raise the onion-in-tortilla question and the discussion will last an hour, even if the participants have talked it over ad nauseam in times past.

Here are the step-by-step instructions, including pictures.

 

6. Whisk eggs in a bowl. We used 6 eggs but Enrique thinks we could have used 8 eggs, given the number of potatoes we used. When the onions are done, add them to the eggs.

8. Let potatoes rest (cool) a bit then add to eggs and onions. Mix and let stand a few minutes so potatoes take on flavor of onions. 

A lot of this technique requires practice. Don’t invite company your first few times out. From experience, it tastes ok if it falls apart in the flip but, practice makes perfect or at least improves your odds.

Our friend Rachel in Sun City Center has promised me lessons when we return next fall. Maybe I’ll update this when she’s taken me to the next level and I’ve learned through experience.

We didn’t roll out of bed until almost 9 AM and left for the hills around noontime. Perfect timing for Spaniards on a Sunday, says Enrique. Personally, I had been clubbing slaving over a hot MacBook until almost 2 AM so the extra time in bed worked for me.

We stopped at a tourist information office in Monda (not to be confused with Ronda) who gave us some useful maps and advice. She urged us to walk five minutes (up hill; the whole town is built on a hill) to see the church. A mass was about to begin when we walked in but we admired the beautiful local parish church, as nice in its way as the cathedral in Malaga we toured yesterday.

As the church bells rang for the mass, we seated ourselves across the town square where Judy and Enrique had Coca Cola Zero and I had café con leche. Some of you know I average one cup of coffee a month, at most, back home. Here I’ve kind of grown to liking the stuff again. When in Rome . . . 

As is the case almost everywhere in the world, there are two classes of people when it comes to religion, and that difference played out here exactly. The people in the church were elderly women with white hair (plus drag-along husbands). Those drinking beer in the café with us were young men with scraggly beards and pot bellies. Guess who’s feels that they are beginning to hear Saint Peter’s call from the Pearly Gates? Judy wondered if maybe we were in the wrong place.

The big deal here are the olive groves. You can see from the pictures that they aren’t planted on the level; there isn’t much level ground in these mountains. Enrique says olive trees are slow growing, tolerant of drought, and can live to be 500 years old. They blossom in May (the pollen causes great grief to allergy-prone Enrique) and are harvested in September. They must be softened in salt water (preferably from the sea) before they can be eaten or pressed into oil. Here’s a fun link that explains the process: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hs22pgMltjg

We arrived home abut 5 PM for ice cream at the store around the corner (Italian ice cream it turns out) and a shopping spree to pick out a dress for Judy. We ended up with two dresses for her (French) and two shirts for me: “Spanish, not Chinese or Indian. Just like they are wearing in New York,” said the store manager. He knows a sucker lacking in any sense of fashion when he sees one.

Now we’re kicked back and will probably hit Old Town for a last go at tapas. Tomorrow we head to Enrique’s apartment in Madrid where we will stay the night. Then he’ll take us to the airport on Tuesday for the flight back to Boston. Soon after we’ll have to head to Onawa to open the place up, rake the leaves, repair a broken window and get the boats launched. But first, our farewell dinner in Marbella.

We trust Enrique without question. He knows Spain, he’s an experienced traveler and is not afraid to ask directions when needed. His navigation through some of the trickiest village streets earlier today couldn’t be topped. But a hint of doubt begin to make us question his reputation for steadfast travel-savviness as he led us to dinner tonight.

Enrique made a reservation for 10 PM for a restaurant outside the Old Town district but with good reviews, fish on the menu and a 30% discount on the Forks app. But first, we decided to walk through Old Town to find a restaurant that Judy had seen two days before. It took some doing, and instructions from a police officer strolling through Old Town on patrol. Once there, the somewhat frazzled manager told us he was booked until 11 PM. Time for Plan B.

Enrique and his trusty GPS led us on a 15-minute walk, the last several blocks along a street under serious construction. Judy had on her new long dress and fancy shoes not  optimized for navigating uneven ground. When we found the hole-in-the-wall restaurant there were only six tables, three inside, three outside and all occupied. We had to sit at a narrow bar, ordered drinks and waited for the other patrons to finish dessert and pay up, which in Spain can take a while.

But finally we were properly seated and we ordered five dishes: mussels, sausage, prawns, sea bass and tuna. And much to our surprise each was a gastronomic work of art. (Maybe our taste buds were sensitized by a couple glasses of Tinto de Verano (summer red wine), sort of like sangria but different). We couldn’t decide on dessert so we ordered all three.The best of the lot was the cheese cake whose base was blue cheese. The whole meal, after the discount was about 50 bucks. We learned later that the restaurant had been open for only one week.

Enrique’s reputation is intact and enhanced. He’s made our final days in Spain a real treat as he did four years ago.

Tomorrow it’s off to Madrid and Enrique’s apartment.  

So far we’ve had your beach towns, a blue town, a bull ring town, a Moorish castle town, a white town and now a real city – Malaga.

Yes, it’s located on the Mediterranean’s Costa del Sol and you could probably find a sandy beach or two if you worked at it but what we did today was to tour a vibrant, prosperous city that doesn’t rely solely on the tourist trade. Sure, it’s got a Moorish wall and castle ruins, a Roman amphitheater and a 16th century cathedral to keep tourists happy and spending. But it also has a shopping district that sells really upscale stuff far beyond what Marbella has to offer in its Old Town. We even experienced areas of Malaga outside the tourist district and those showed signs of being thoroughly up-to-date.

We started the day arising by eight-is and breaking our fast with toast and juice in our apartment. We hit the road for Malaga around 9:45 with the objective of making an eleven o’clock appointment for a free walking tour of Malaga. Free tours are indeed free, except for the “voluntary” tip suggested to be 5 to 10 Euros person. By the time we extracted Enrique’s car from its underground dungeon in Marbella and missed the turn into the parking garage in Malaga we missed the tour. 

No hay problema. There was another English-language tour at 12:30. So we walked through the Parque de Málaga, a very nice botanical garden that doubles as a promenade along the waterfront. It was warming up a bit and the distance was perhaps a half mile so the shade and slight breeze felt nice.

Our meeting point was in front of the Malaga’s big-deal cathedral, La Santa Iglesia Catedral Basílica de la Encarnación to give it its full name. Its nickname is La Maquita, the one-armed woman. Why? It’s all George Washington’s fault. 

The cathedral was built using taxes levied on cargo off-loaded in Malaga. That supported construction until the American war of independence in 1776. At that point king Carlos III diverted the cash flow to America via his his brother the governor of Louisiana Luis de Unzaga y Amézaga. The result: the south tower of the cathedral was never completed. It is dwarfed by the north tower. Hence the one-armed lady name. Today the money could probably be found to complete the job (although the upkeep of the old girl is a huge cost). But no one wants to find a new name for the cathedral and besides, it makes a great story for people like us to retell to the folks back home like you. I’ll have more to say about the cathedral later on.

While we waited we had coffee and a snack in a cafe on the cathedral square.

Our one-and-a-half-hour walking tour took us to the Calle Marqués de Larios. The street was named after Manuel Domingo Larios y Larios, the second Marques de Larios. It’s a street with every high-end retailer you’ve ever heard of (and a whole bunch I’ve never heard of). The Larios family controls 80% of the storefronts, extracting enormous sums from the tenants. There’s a statue of the Marqués looking down his street from one end although it’s a repurposed statue with the original seafarer taken from the top and delegated to a lower level. The city fathers who funded the statue must have been strapped for ready cash or the Marqués wasn’t as big a cheese as we might think.

We visited the traditional town market, housed in what used to be a ship building facility. It’s a good 10 blocks or more from the waterfront. The land between the market and the water has been filled to make more land. Just like Boston and many other cities.

We wandered more streets and squares, ending up in front of the Roman amphitheater. On a hill behind is the Moorish wall and a Moorish fortress. 

The history is much like I related yesterday. One interesting wrinkle our guide brought forward was the Carthaginian’s campaign to expand from their home base in Carthage (in present-day Tunis) to the Iberian peninsula. According to our guide, the Carthaginian’s marched across northern Africa to the Pillars of Hercules and the Straits of Gibraltar. Of 37 elephants that left home on this trek, only three made it across the straits. Some years later Hannibal took over command of the Carthaginian army, which he marched across the Alps, accompanied with the three remaining elephants to conquer Rome, attacking from the unexpected route. Turns out, the Romans had left town by the time Hannibal hit town so it was a great hike but less than impressive results. Check out the Second Punic War (circa 220 BC) for further details and report back to me in compressed form, please.

After the tour we tried one highly-recommended restaurant but the line was too long. Enrique googled up a different place that offered a 50% discount. They got our business and we had another six-plate tapas feed for lunch, which lasted us the rest of the day. Tapas is the way to go in Spain.

After the tour we decided to visit the cathedral and see what was up with the interior. Great idea; this is one of the most impressive cathedrals, in terms of size and the quality of the various side chapels and the main sanctuary plus all the attendant art work that I’ve seen just about anywhere. Does Notre Dame one better, even before the fire.

The original cathedral was a Moorish mosque repurposed after the reconquest in 1487. Over the centuries the structure was modified and by 1787 was opened to the public in the form we saw today.

During our trips along the Mississippi River and then through Mississippi and Louisiana to Texas in the Tesla, I read quite a bit about the Spanish activities in that region as well as the untold riches extracted from South America. All that gold and silver contributed, I’m sure, to what we saw today.

So back to the car to do some serious souvenir shopping. Specifically, we were in the market for some fútbol (soccer) paraphernalia for the kids. We drove to a nearby Corte Inglés. Carter expressed interest in a sweatshirt/hoodie for the Barcelona Club team. Two problems: first, Enrique considers Barcelona to be a hated rivals of his Real Madrid team. Second, there aren’t many hoodies on sale in Malaga in the summertime. We did find some 90 Euro tee shirts but, much as I love my grandkids, there are limits. 

Next, we drove to the nearby Carrefour for some grocery shopping. There we purchased bread, cheese, sangria, olives and some mushroom croquets, which served as our eat-in dinner tonight (Enrique’s washing the dishes at 11:30 PM as I type and Judy showers). Plus, we bought six eggs. Enrique is going to teach me the art of making the Spanish tortilla, the preparation of which I failed so miserably earlier in this trip.

The Corte Inglés is a huge department store on the order of an overgrown Macy’s. The difference: the place was stacked to the gills with high-quality merchandise. There were lots of clerks to help. And the place was mobbed at 7:00 on a Saturday with shoppers. Eat your heart out, Macy’s. Same thing at the Carrefour, a French store that sort of reminds me of a Target, Costco and a Whole Foods all jammed together and made bigger. Again, tons of products, not just groceries and crowded with happy shoppers. Brick-and-mortar retail is, from today’s experience, alive and well in Spain.

And driving to these stores, including a detour or two for missed turns, showed that Malaga outside the tourist zone is healthy and prosperous.

Enough. I like Malaga, if you can’t tell. Tomorrow we think we’ll visit a national park north and hour and a half from Marbella. Right after tortilla class.

You’ve heard of Mijas, haven’t you? Me neither until today that is.

Mijas is a town about 15 miles or so up the coast (east) from Marbella, traveling toward Malaga. It popped up in a quick google search for “things to do in Marbella.” This is a beautiful part of the world and is a huge magnet for northerners (e.g., Brits and Germans) escaping the northern winters. And, unlike Florida, it’s equally pleasant year round. That means that there are tons of restaurants, gift shops and other beach-town kinds of enterprises. But that means there isn’t a lot of things of a cultural, historical or natural environmental things to do. Old town Marbella, for instance, has, by my count, two churches and a countless number of restaurant tables.

Mijas is somewhat similar. The downtown section is very much a beach town. There’s a signal tower and a few other things but it’s really a beach town, But five miles or less up the hill from downtown is the pueblo, a small, older part of Mijas that is quite beautiful in its own rights. The streets are narrow with blindingly white buildings. There are great views of the mountains, the Mediterranean and the town itself. There’s a church or two, a bull ring and a few other attractions but the big deal is to wander the streets, enjoy the views and beautiful weather. And yes, it’s built on the side of a mountain so there’s lots of up and down walking involved and yes, there are the usual gift shops and restaurants. But we spent a few pleasant hours there, including time for ice cream before heading back to Marbella.

Historically (you didn’t think you’d get out of this without a history lesson, did you?) Mijas experienced the usual Iberian succession of invaders. The prehistoric Tartessians were overcome by the ancient Greeks and Phoenicians looking for mineral wealth, followed by the Romans, Visigoths and Moors. Ho hum; the usual story. Mijas resisted the Christians at the siege of Malaga and when they eventually surrendered the people were sold as slaves. Next, the Costa del Sol back became the Costa del Pirates. Until the 1960s the village consisted mostly of shacks and poverty was rampant. Then the Costa del Sol happened and here we are knee-deep in t-shirt shops. And $500,000 condos.

The day started with our departures from Calle Valentuñana – two cars to the Malaga airport for their flight to Barcelona. For us, Enrique arrived at 9 AM to visit briefly with Jeff, Reagan and Carter and to meet the rest of the crew. We dumped the last trash bag, loaded Enrique’s car and headed out around 10:30 for Mijas.

Faithful followers of jonandjudy.com will remember that Enrique was our host for the Madrid portion of our Portugal/Spain trip in 2018. He’s the guy our folks brought in as a senior at good old Hillsdale High after Doug and I had headed out for parts away from home. So in that sense, we share a common set of parents.

We returned to Marbella by 3:20, in time to meet Javiar’s girlfriend, Clara, who let us into the garage and showed us the apartment It’s a nice, clean, bright two-bedroom one bath affair right on the edge of Old Town. We’re observing siesta and will venture forth for tapas or whatnot after a bit.

We kicked back and relaxed until 8 PM or so and then set out for a walk around Old Town, which is right at our doorstep. The purpose of our walk was to scout out potential restaurants for dinner, to do some window shopping and, for me, to find out what was around the next corner or at the top of the next hill. Eventually we sat down at Lateral, a tapas restaurant. We ended up with seven tapas plates plus two for desert. The Plaza Naranja was busy, the weather was pleasant and so was the company.

Tomorrow we’re off to explore Malaga.

I got lazy and the hour got too late so I didn’t finish processing and uploading all the pictures from Day 4 in the blue city of Chefchaouen. Here they are.