Malaga

Yesterday we flew from East Midlands to Malaga. The security arrangements at East Midlands are just as inefficient as last time we flew from there. They don’t seem to consider it a problem that your belongings  are scattered in all directions, even though a passenger recently won a case against Heathrow because, while they were faffing about checking stuff, his laptop was nicked.  I did hope that this might have caused East Midlands to smarten up, but having talked to a supervisor (well, complained vociferously, to be exact) there’s clearly no hope for the system with staff like that.

Then when we were waiting for the bags to come up, some young men got into a shouting match, and I came over all teacher-y and told them ff for making me ashamed to be British. They did stop.  

Anyway, after this rather fraught journey, we arrived in time to find the hotel easily, due to some excellent preplanning by Phil, and go to bed.

After breakfast we got the bus into Malaga. The buses are convenient and easy to work, and we didn’t fancy leaving all our luggage in the hire car parked in Malaga. The outskirts of Malaga are pretty grim; American style strip malls, stack-a-pleb enormous blocks of flats, wasteland, and a rash of graffiti over everything. But the centre is delightful, with lots of gardens and shade and some lovely buildings. There is a charming Moorish style early cinema and a theatre which I imagine must be eighteenth century.

Docks, from the Alcazaba

We walked through gardens to the lift up to the Alcazaba. It was built over quite a long period but most of what you can see is early tenth century. It’s heavily restored, but gives a good impression, with peaceful secluded courts, fountains, gardens and open air living rooms. There’s some nice ceilings remaining, and the views over towards the bullring and the docks (rather smart) are good.  In one or two places there are reused Roman columns, and just below are the remains of a Roman theatre. There’s a fair amount left, but nothing like the theatres in Syria or Jordan, which were nearly complete except for the statuary.

Then we went to Museo Picasso. It contains works donated by Picasso’s daughter in law. It’s in an elegant sixteenth century mansion, which is well worth seeing, and in the basement are the ruins of some Phoenician houses from the eighth century B.C., found when restoring the house. Neither of us are completely sold on Picasso, but he certainly could draw. One does wonder whether Hirst can. Maybe he has to pickle animals instead.

We had a look at the cathedral. There was a sixth century basilica, which became a mosque, and then when the Catholic monarchs conquered Malaga, it was decided to build a magnificent cathedral. The plans were so ambitious it still isn’t quite complete. It is enormously high with an amazing vaulted ceiling, so it is definitely magnificent, but also rather ugly.

Phil under a baobab tree. We haven't seen a baobab
since we went to Nepal.

Then lunch. After some indecision, we chose a restaurant and had a salad of roasted red peppers and a platter of mixed fried fish. It was lovely. What a nice meal. They gave us a free liqueur, and I felt obliged, even forced, to drink mine, but I'm ashamed to admit that it made me very sleepy and rather useless on the drive to Granada.  I did pull myself together in time to help find the hotel, which is just outside the Alhambra, with Morrocan style decorations, very nice, and has a swimming pool – just the ticket after a hot drive.