Malaga is a lovely port city with blue green seas so typical of the mediterranean coasts I’ve seen.
We arrived at Malaga airport and caught a taxi with an apparently newbie driver since he didn’t know where the Eurostars Astoria hotel was located and had to ask one of the other drivers parked outside the airport. He then charged us a hefty €23 while showing us charts with the extra fees to justify the cost. Christopher and I were under the impression that a taxi would have only been €10 so we had some sticker shock but at 11:30 p.m. haggling wasn’t in the cards.
After a somewhat good night’s sleep, I was in the dining room of the hotel by 8:30 after getting no response from knocking on “The Kid’s” door. Met a nice couple from Cambridge who were on holiday and we had breakfast together talking about grandchildren and our respective children. They had a daughter in Cambridge and grandmother took care of her 4 year old grandson on a regular basis (we had that in common), and a son in Australia with another grandson whom they visited once or twice a year. This year it would be for a 3 month stay over winter which their daughter in Cambridge was not keen about (hmmm…no comment).
All during the hour in the dining room I kept my eye open for The Kids, but they never showed. Went back to my room after another Knock went unanswered, grabbed my daypack and ventured toward town on the streets Pat and Terry advised me to take.
The weather was a little cooler than I thought it would be, but my light cotton jacket and neck scarf were warm enough once I worked up my body temp from walking. By then, knowing my son, I assumed they had gotten an early start and were already at the Alcazabar (fort) in Malaga. Heading toward the harbor, there were horses with carriages parked in rows waiting for eager tourists. There was a tourist center I saw so picked up a one sheet map of town and headed towards god only knew where. The cobblestones streets led into small alleyways with short steps that blended into the walkways making me very aware not to trip and fall onto my face.
I came across a massive cathedral, passed through a grove of orange trees, and paid the €5 entry fee which included a handheld recorder that I didn’t use half the time. Instead I wandered this enormous church taking photos of the gold altar pieces, Spanish influenced art, and incredible carvings. Churches are also a marvelous way to find a place to sit and rest after long walks. That, in itself, is worth the entry fees.