Due to the festival we had changed our plans and rather than walking in the state park behind Frigiliana we had decided to catch a bus down to Nerja and have a swim in the Mediterranean. So we breakfasted, in our little apartment, no need to clothe up for breakfast, and wandered off to seek the bus. Spaniards all suffer from a common misunderstanding that there is no way to get lost regardless of the paucity of understandable instructions. The reason we needed instructions was that due to the festival the bus to Nerja was leaving from a different location...away from the normal, central bus stop. So a little additional walking was required, which in Frigiliana means climbing several inclined streets. Marjan was not happy.
The Nerja bus eventually came, and picked up two very hot and sweaty Melbournians, luckily the trip was short and the walk to the beach downhill and some clouds were keeping it cooler. The water was mild and inviting, the beach........well we are spoilt for beaches in Australia, and we have fewer pale Brits to walk between to get to deeper water.......they were trying to body surf Rye style breaks......front beach.
I am not sure if I have put on blubber, or if the Mediterranean has more salt, but I seemed to have greater buoyancy than normal. That was OK with me. I floated away some time in the coolish water, and it was good. Marjan decided that the beach was not up to her standards, and the weather no longer hot enough, so just paddled.
We went back into town for a drink. We really disliked the place. The tourists were packed tight, the place, which is touted as the least developed town in this part of the coast, was as anonymous as any tourist town gets. The service at the bar slow and surly.....in general we decided to get the early bus back to Frigiliana.
We bought a few supplies on the way, and managed to get on the bus, which filled really quickly with day trippers up for the festival. A lunch with a view from our apartment and a nap revived us.
So out we went to see what we could see, drink what we could drink, and eat what we could eat. Marjan looked at the potential hiking area and gave me a look....I was glad we chose the lighter day. It was still early, but things were beginning to happen. We however soon hit the wall. Hard. We were trying for the Ruta De Las Tapas. 2 euros gets you a drink and a tapa. Eleven of those a free T-shirt. Unfortunately the drink is not made any smaller by the smaller price. Three drinks....and tapas..... in, we were both flattened and light headed. We struggled on a bit, saw a few more things, ate a few more things, before the wall just hit us back with all its force. Possibly it is part of winding down the pace from the frenetic Iceland pace, possibly the heat, possibly the alcohol, or possibly all three combined.
I may struggle out a little later to see the fireworks....I may just fall comatose on the bed.
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