A Sunday in Málaga

Ridiculous to spend so much time working while away, but it just has to be done. Still, the beauty is, once work is done, I can kick back and relax, or head out and explore. Today, early afternoon, I did the latter.

I felt a little groggy after last night’s exertions with Salvador and Antonio, but forced myself onwards, and I am very glad I did. I’d not managed to get to see the Alcazaba last time I was here, so it was high on my list of things to do this time around. Typically, I had left it till the last minute. But as it is free to enter on a Sunday, that was fine by me.

As anyone with a cursory reading of the Wikipedia page knows, the Alcazaba is a palatial fortification from the Islamic era, built on a previous fortification of Phoenician-Punic origin. It is located on the slopes of Mount Gibralfaro, in an elevated position but contiguous and linked to the historic centre of the city, which constituted the ancient madina of Málaga, and on whose summit is the Gibralfaro Castle. See how much you learn when you read this crap? Hmm?

It was a reasonably long walk for my arthritic body to undertake: Alameda Centro to downtown (essentially straight through the Avenida de Andalusia and cutting through the Parque de Málaga). But what a place it is! And in the mid-afternoon sun, there were hardly any visitors (except for the remnants of one of the cruise ships that had pulled up in dock to buy stuffed donkeys and pollute the waves).

I spent a happy couple of hours there, climbing walls, going into gardens, trying hard not to listen to the unfolding misery of Liverpool losing at Arsenal. In the end, I sat on a wall in the shade, looking out at the Mediterranean, and wondering why most of life couldn’t be this peaceful.

At around 6, a bad-tempered security man with a face like a bulldog came to chase the remaining visitors out, “Hora de irse gente, ¿no tenéis casas a las que ir?” or something like that. I might have made that bit up.

As I wandered back, past the cathedral this time, I bumped into a crowd of people standing in a line, waiting for something. The line was very long actually, going much of the way along Avenida de Andalusia. There was another group of people on the other side too – so in essence, they were forming a path along which to walk. So, I did. I started to acknowledge them, until it struck me that they probably weren’t here to acknowledge my sterling feat of walking to and from the Alcazaba, they were here for something else. I got off the path just in time to see the Carnaval de Málaga procession. And very glad I was that I did, for many reasons.

Back to the loft, a quick dinner and a call to Mrs Ottawacker. I do like Málaga.