Mountain Roads

We awoke late after a hot humid night, breakfasted and headed off. It was again hot and the walk up the hill to the car got the sweat glands going again.

Pretty drive through very mountainous country, we seemed to be going either up or down and the roads were pretty bad. Not just small and narrow, but badly maintained and lumpy. Surely we are not going up there we thought more than once, more than once we were wrong. Gaucin was pretty.....we saw a bit of it because Madge, our GPS, seemed to get very confused in the villages and wanted to take us up and down every narrow laneway. That of course meant we were taking a while more than expected.

Through more really pretty, hilly, oak forest country, again with an appalling road. Almost ran over a couple of baby proto jamones that had got under the fence. The road went through a state park and eventually led us to the town of Ubrique and a morning tea.

We were now through the mountains and in rolling hill, grazing country. The road was now excellent and we sped along to Arcos de la Frontera. Lots of 'de la Frontera' towns around here.....the frontier between the Catholics and the Muslims kept shifting during the Reconquista. Madge again got confused by the city streets.......Arcos is much bigger than our last three places.

We were advised to stay out of the old town and park in a public car park. We did and the walk up had Marjan looking very related to a certain reddish root vegetable. Our hotel, and room were lovely, with a beautiful balcony looking over the agricultural valley below.

Nice lunch, Marjan tried cuttle fish for the first time, and closing her eyes, even managed a couple of tentacles. After a short walk around we decided on a nap....it was 37C, and stifling in the narrow streets, with no breeze.

Arcos is arcos because every second street has arches across the street. Not sure why, it just is....maybe to stop the buildings leaning in even more. Walked around a bit, whilst Marjan read under the air-conditioner.

We decided on a picnic dinner. That proved to be a real treat as the sun set and our balcony was cool with a great show of swifts, and doves and ravens. We are guessing on the birds, but they did put on a show for us.

Lunch among the Vultures

So we decided we definitely should do one of the walks around here. We chose and 8k up the valley and back. Apparently it was relatively easy till the mountain hut, three quarters of the way back.

Relatively easy, compared to what! It was a fairly steady climb, and we had not allowed for the fact that today had no breeze, and though not too hot, the humidity was around 90%. So we were sweating from the first few uphill paces. Luckily the path was on the shady side of the valley. We passed a few shady gum trees, a welcome reminder of home. Also a few cork oaks that had recently been harvested. This side of the valley has a number of local and ex-pat places with wonderful views to the state reserve on the other side where the vultures nest.

We soon reached the top of the valley, well soonish anyway. Not before cursing the biting flies though, and sweating buckets.

Marjan decided not to risk the hard part so went back along the roadway. I went into the state park track. I was soon congratulating myself. The path was fairly flat and quite pretty with a series of cork oaks, Spanish pines, and thistle type flowers. I was enjoying this side of the valley and wishing Marjan had kept coming.

I soon reached the Refugio, a mountain hut, that indicated the descent. There were awesome views of the town. I rested in the shade and started down. I was soon glad Marjan had not come. The path down was quite difficult and hard work. It was narrow, steep, rocky and quite exposed. The worst part though was that a flat footing spot was a luxury. No photos, the camera was stashed as I needed both hands free for balance.

By the time I got down I was sweating profusely and had used up all the water. That is when I discovered I was below town level, so I had to climb again along the main road. By the time I got back I could not get my T-shirt off. Marjan had to pull it off over my head. Three and a half hours of very pretty country, but I was spent, and Marjan not much better.

After a cold shower, I felt a little better and we decided that a proper restaurant lunch was called for. So we walked down into town and up two flights to a patio. Whilst having a couple of litres of ice water and a glass of tinto de verano (will be my drink this summer) we noticed the vultures swirling around the town (ie us) . There were literally a dozen or so. Again no photos, I notice that when I am tired I just leave the camera. However watching them whilst having a lovely salad with heaps of tropical fruit and prawns, followed by a plate of garlic goat was a real highlight. Due to the walk, and the need to freshen up, we were eating around about Spanish time....ie we finished around 3:30.

That is when we realised that we had to walk down two flights and up a steep lane to our hotel for our siesta. Marjan decided Spain was OK, but lacked a few escalators.

We really had very little energy in the afternoon, Marjan read, I mooched. We walked down again, bought some supplies at the Chinese run supermarket, the Chinese diaspora is quite amazing, had a tinto de verano at the main square and watched the old men watching us. Marjan reckons it is genetic trait, and that I watch people just like the old blokes here watch people. She is worried.

One drink was enough and we just had some bread rolls and mooched some more.

Spanish Bathrooms...and some of my other least favourite things

I was going to do a post about Spanish oddities, but a few whinges will make their way into this particular post.

I woke several times during the night because the light switch for the overhead lights is on the bead head, in the middle of the bed. So each time I rolled over and moved my arm along there I turned on either my or Marjan's overhead light. Who thought THAT was a good idea? Wrong. In between they have a plug, so you can recharge your iphone, and leave it.......oh between you in bed! Again ....... wrong. Added to that, it was the first time on this trip that we have run into the particular Spanish insanity, the double width pillow for the double bed ....... I want my own pillow....I wanna squish it and pound it, and put it in odd positions …....I do not want to wrestle Marjan for control of one pillow ...... I do not want to switch on the light accidentally when I try, either.

Then there are bathrooms! I believe Spain has water issues, particularly here in the south. This could be why bathrooms are designed to get you out of them as soon as possible. They are all clean, they are all tiled, they all manage to find room for a specialist foot washing basin, but why no fans? It is like a sauna in the warm weather, the room is soon so steamy that you need to leave it to get dry. Also, any movement involves me knocking something over. But my particular beef, as if the above was not particular enough, is the bloody showers! In no particular order:

• four Spanish showers: four ways of managing the hot/cold balance;
• Shower heads should aim water at people in the shower, not walls, ceilings or windows;
• Showering requires some movement of arms to get soap etc to appropriate places and having to bump fittings and walls, or alternately get wrapped in two shower curtains whilst doing so is very irritating.

Marjan is not quite so irritated; though she did at one point suggest hard jail time for litterers.

OK, I feel better now!

It has actually been a rather nice, calm day. Marjan's foot required some more rest, so we wandered up to the castle, and spent most of the morning watching the vultures soaring and coming in to land. We are nerdy enough, that just that, was a heap of fun. In between we looked at the rural scenery and the next white village

When we got a bit thirsty, we came down the hill to the plaza for a coffee, and to fill up our water bottle at the town fountain. ....we also bought some bread, jamon and cheese for lunch ….when the Saturday crowd in the plaza became too much for us we wandered back up the hill again, found a shady spot and lunched, whilst keeping an eye out for …. more vultures. A local resident dropped by, climbed into the garden behind us and presented us with a couple of ripe figs for desert. He also pointed out a vulture nest in the cliff across the valley and said apparently there was a chick in there recently. I could not see it.

When it got hot, we went to the beach again. Only this time we learned our lesson. We went to the bar before the swim, so that fussbudget Marjan could not complain. Oh yeah, and I had to park like a local........ across the median strip.

Finally we went into the town square, planted ourselves at a bar and watched Saturday in Casares evolve. More people, more horses, a party, mass at the church, churros after, street closing by the police, locals ignoring street closing, watching the pizza delivery woman scoot around on her scooter, eating some boquerones and a whole squid, drinking some wine...and Manolo joining our table for a while. Manolo is a middle aged Down's syndrome local, who sat at our table for a while, drank his lemonade, and told us about a wedding Saturday week and how he was going to get all dressed up.

We were just a part of the broad canvas of the town.

Horror Road

After a self managed breakfast, we wrestled our luggage down the staircase to our car. Even downhill was a task.

We were soon down the hill and doing the motorway thing again. The E7 is the Mediterranean highway along the Costa Del Sol. Imagine the ugliness, to us at least, of the Coolangatta to Surfer's drive, take away the nice beach, extend it by about 40 minutes of driving, and you can imagine the horror of this stretch of country. I imagine that at some stage it was a lovely road connecting a series of small villages with small beaches. Now it is one huge Industrial-Tourism stretch of ugliness, at least from the road. The only bits that looked OK were the fancier resorty places that had actually done some work on grounds.

Anyway, that is not why we were here, we soon turned inland towards our next white village, Casares. Within 5 minutes we were away from the horrible stretch and into hilly country with cork oaks that had recently been peeled. We made Casares in short order and parked near the top of the town. We had a cup of coffee and watched the vultures circling on the thermals. We were already liking this place. We checked in, or at least left our luggage, and were informed there was a market in town.

So down we went to buy some more fruit and some bread, have a drink at the main square and watched the world go around this little, charming, buzzing village. Everyone seemed to come by the central square, either to shop, drink from the fountain in the middle of the square, or drive around the fountain two or three times before deciding which road to take. The village has a really nice feel.

By the time we got back, our rooms were ready and we picnicked in our room, with the fresh bread, some roast peppers and olives, with a view of the town.

After a postprandial rest we decided that a dip in the sea would be good, so down we drove to a beach that was not too bad. We both had a dip, it was quite odd, very steep going in with a very rocky bit just when you need your balance. At any rate the dip was very refreshing.

We headed back up the road, to shower and dress for an evening walk in town, and some food of course. We climbed to the top of the hill where the Arabs had put a castle in the 13^th century to survey all the land around. It also provided a view of town. This place actually has quite a history. Julius Caesar is said to have cured a liver complaint here at with the sulphurous waters, there was a Morisco rebellion here after the Reconquista. Napoleon could not take this town and it is the home of one of the father's of Andaluzian independence.

I loved the views, the public parking building with the kinder and playground on the top, was an unexpected feature.

After checking out the sights, we wandered back to the central square which again was buzzing......old blokes hanging about chatting, families having afternoon tea, kids riding their bikes around, even a campesino having a drink whilst his horse waited. Whilst we had a drink or three and some food, at one of the six bars/restaurants in the plaza, we were mightily entertained by the town sharing this space as their major social gathering point.

A good day!

The one where we hit the wall

Another lovely morning.



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.