Rodin in Malaga

Another cultural trip to Málaga saw us view the sculptures by Rodin that are here on loan until December. They are displayed on Calle Larios, the heart of the shopping centre in town. Málaga is the first Spanish city that has been able to display the works in the open air. The valued treasures are being guarded 24 hours a day.


The Thinker by Rodin.

The most famous sculpture by Rodin has to be "The Thinker". It takes prime position at the beginning of Calle Larios. This was Rodin's first work to be displayed, debuting in Paris in 1906. Its a shame its moving to Granada in mid December as it would be wonderful if it could stay here on a permanent basis. I bit of over time for the local police also.


Monica with "The Thinker".

The other sculptures belong to the "Burghers of Calais". They are displayed separately along Calle Larios. It depicts the group of 6 men that were prepared to die to save the people of Calais from being massacred by King Edward III, who besieged Calais in 1347. The sculptures show the barefooted and bareheaded men as they left Calais to give themselves over to the king. There lives were sparred when Edward's queen, Philippa of Hainault intervened.



A Burgher from Calais.


Another Burgher.


Me with a Burgher.

Winter nights in "Los Barriles"

Well summer has been and gone. Copacabana's has closed for the winter. Meson de Julio is shut for the whole of November. So new places need to be added to the list. The first is "Los Barriles" on Calle Carabeo.


Monica in winter gear.

This place is a converted garage into a "bar tipico" which is always packed with tourists in Summer. In Winter, the place is a little quieter, not to mention colder, but Rafael will soon be putting up the patio heaters to keep us warm.

The tapas you get depends on the number you drink. The first tapa is normally olives or cheese. Then you will receive a meat tapa such as the chorizo. Being a bit peckish and not wanting to order loads of beers (honest!) we ordered a "plato combinado" for 7 euros. Lovely.


Plato Combinado.

Tony King made a guest appearance. He's glad that Summer is over so that he can get some sleep at night. He lives near Tutti Fruti and apparently the youths have ventured further out to make noise. Definitely a place to avoid for our apartment hunt.


Music en vivo.

Tony's spirits were raised when the trio of singers in costume arrived. They belted out his favourite tunes with Tony accompanying. We slipped away into the night, determined not to get drunk, and so ends the curse of Tony!

Monday morning in November

A new regime for winter. November is going to be a "keep fit" month. This starts with a nice brisk walk first thing in the morning. Regular visits to the Gym. Lets see how long it lasts!

First walk and a view photos to show you what a November morning in Nerja looks like. Its a shame its lashing it down in Manchester.


Mount Cielo in the sunshine.


Burriana apartments in the sunshine.


The sunshine over the med.

Monica's new look. This is the winter biker range. Those sunglasses are essential wear to keep the glare out of your eyes.


Ready for the sunshine!

Arroyo Turbilla

Another walk from the "Walk the Axarquia!" guidebook that goes horribly wrong. A 2.5 hour walk, 7.6km from "La fabrica de la luz" in Canillas de Alaida, near Cómpeta. This time I am not going to blame the guidebook for getting lost. It was all down to two dogs.

The starting point for the walk was "At the far end of the car park, concrete steps descend on to the riverside camping terrace, below which brick steps lead to stepping-stone ford across the stream". The first problem was that there was a Spanish family already there with a dog. A dog free from a lead. It wasn't a big dog, only about ankle high. But that didn't stop it thinking he was a rottweiler. It came snapping around our heels. With every second we stayed there it grew in confidence. The family were loving it! Casually shouting the dog until it had a bite at Monica. We quickly made our escape and headed for a crossing over the stream. It turns out that it was the wrong crossing.


On the wrong path after the dog attack!

The choices open to us appeared to be to continue along a track heading up the hill or follow the stream. Another bigger dog was up stream so even if the guidebook stated "follow the stream" there was no way Monica would follow it. The guidebook mentioned a number of electric pylons to follow as markers. Not one was in sight. "Maybe they have taken them down?" I offered, knowing that turning back was not an option.


Lost again Dino!

The track was heading in the right direction. The views of the valley were spectacular. We agreed to follow the track and see what happens. Half an hour of climbing later we reached the peak. From here we had lovely views towards the sea and over the mountains. The guide claimed "spectacular views of La Maroma". We could see it, but only just. It turns out that we had taken the suggested "short cut" back from the walk, so was not where we thought we were. We were looking for a track on the right that was the short cut, but obviously we never found it.


Lovely views.

We convinced ourselves that we were on the right track, which we were, but decided to put the guidebook away and look for the path ourselves. We could see the firebreaks on the opposite side of the valley. The ruins of "La Parra" were also visible. Except we were not looking for these way makers as we had put away the book.


La Parra.

The path continued to climb for a while before levelling out. We passed a small stream that we practically ignored. This was one of the waypoints in the guide. Looking back now, I couldn't even remember the stream. Our attention was taken by the sounds of barking in the distance. Not one dog, but a pack.

With the noise getting increasingly louder, it was clear that they were coming from a cortijo that we were to pass. There were around 5 dogs, all of which were untied. Monica began to relax slightly when we realised that the owner was present and that the cortijo was on a plateau, about 25 metres above the path. Our stride quickened as we got to the cortijo. The dogs grew louder and louder. I spotted one make a breakaway from the group and it came to the edge of the plateau. Its curiosity got the better of him and he jumped down the bank to have a good look at us. He had a good sniff around me, continuing to bark. I think my "hola" calmed him down although it was probably more to do with us moving away from his territory. Another dog disaster averted. But at a cost of missing our turning.

We continued along the path for another 30 minutes. We were getting a bit concerned as the walk should have taken 2 and a half hours. We were on the 2 hour mark and we still seemed to be heading away from the start. Added to that, there was no sign of the path turning around. I dug out the guidebook and read. "The next turning is at a cortijo 10 minutes past a stream". We had just reached a stream. "OK, We'll give it 15 more minutes".

The 15 minutes soon turned into 20 minutes. No sign of a cortijo. Every twist in the road would give us hope that the track was turning direction. The next twist would shatter that illusion. The final straw came when we spotted a 4x4 on top of the mountain, going downhill. We watched to see where it went. It became obvious that it was on our track and sure enough it went sailing past us. We had no option but to turn back.

On the way back it is easy to see your mistakes. "I think this is the turning". It was a very feint track down the hillside. "If we reach a cortijo in 5 minutes it is", cue barking from dogs at the cortijo. At least they let us go passed unhindered this time. 15 minutes later we crossed the stream. We know the way for next time. We could even pick out the rough track on the other side of the valley that we should have taken.


More animal danger.

The next obstacle to pass was a herd of goats. The clanging of their bells warned us of there presence. I didn't know what to expect as we approached them. No need to worry as they jumped off the track on to the hill side when we got near them. Until we got to the centre of the pack, where they eyed us wearily from the edge. The goat herder was behind with his cane. Monica was afraid that he would have a dog. It seems that his voice was all he needed to move the goats though. He grunted something at us in response to our "hola". Obviously not one for chit chat. Must be a lonely life in the mountains.


La fabrica de la luz.

We arrived back at the top of the track that we now realised was the short cut back. We had been on the move for well over 3 hours. We decided to try and find the beginning of the route rather than go back the same way. So we arrived at the point with the spectacular views of La Maroma. Unfortunately, clouds were obscuring the view. We found the pylons that were to be our way markers. The path down was rough and it was a good job the guide mentioned the pylons as I wouldn't have recognised it as a path to anywhere. With "la fabrica de la luz" in view the path turned away from it. "Lets go off path", my famous last words. An undignified 15 minute scramble later with Monica cursing me all the way we finally reached the stream. The stepping stones and concrete steps visible. No idea how you were meant to see then from the top though.


The crossing.

Bowling treat

As its getting closer to our hols, Monica decided it was time to shop for new outfits. A trip around the El Ingenio shopping centre is not my idea of fun. So, we agreed on a game of ten pin bowling afterward as a treat.

The standard was not as high as the previous visit. Strikes were at a premium but we at least got a few. I think Monica got more than me but whose counting! I still won 3 games to 0 so there!


Monica cannot believe that the pins are still standing, again!


On the way to getting a strike!


Another victory in the bag!


Perfect form!

Not content with thrashing Monica at bowling I thought I would complete her misery by beating her at air hockey. With a commanding 4-1 lead I started to show-boat a bit. Fatal mistake as Monica quickly smashed in a few goals to take the lead at 6-4. However, a bizzare own goal proved to be the death knel for her. I went on to win 9-6.

To prove I was gracious in victory I treated her to a few beers at H20. This is fastly becoming our winter watering hole of choice. Nice music, comfortable surroundings and it seems the local bar of choice. Including Francois, the owner of Copacabana. After telling him off for closing the place for the winter he settled down with his Mojito and told us the latest goings on. Looks like things may be different next summer on the playa.


Francois fresh off the golf course.

Day trip to Málaga

A day off in October so we decided to spend the day in Málaga before I flew back to the UK. The main reasons for going to Málaga was to get Monica's passport from the Italian embassy and to visit the Picasso museum.

We arrived at the Italian consulate with no difficulties. Parking not a problem. It was even free. The nice man with the parking attendants uniform was there to ensure there was no double parking. Monica collected her new passport with the minimum of fuss, at a cost of 35 Euros.


Flags a bit worn but at least the parking was free.

You would have thought with the greater percentage of UK citizens living on the costa del sol that a similar service would be provided for me. Not a chance. If you want a passport renewed in Spain you have to go to Madrid. As a regular traveller a cannot take advantage of the postal application route. It takes up to 6 weeks! So I have to arrange a "premium collection" service, complete with interview at Liverpool. The cost? £114. Don't you just love the UK government.

From the consulate it was a brief 10 minute walk into the centre. We decided to have a coffee outside the Picasso museum. A nice spot outside with nice views of the cathedral, although the coffee was not very good. The same can be said for the visit to the Picasso museum.


View of the cathedral.

I'm not an art fan by any stretch of the imagination but a cannot for the live of me understand why Picasso was so acclaimed. His paintings are child like and his obsession with nudes would probably get him on the sex-offenders register nowadays. Monica, who does appreciate art more than I do, was unable to explain the concept of "cubism" to me in a way that I could make sense of what I was seeing. I am willing to concede that my view is akin to the none football lover describing the game as "kicking a bag of wind around", or the Mark Twain classic that Golf "is a nice walk spoilt", but if anyone can explain it to me...


Monica outside the Picasso Museum.

If I wanted to take any photos of the works of Picasso, I would surely have been stopped by the museums staff. They were on high alert in every room. Absolutely no photos allowed. Monica's bag was searched to ensure that she wasn't smuggling in a camera. The advancement in mobile phone technology has obviously gone unnoticed by the staff

After starring at obscure paintings of naked women with strangely proportioned parts, not to mention the bizarre placements of said parts, we headed for the exit. I'm sorry to say that I am not a fan of Málaga's number one son.

Off then for a lazy lunch in one of the many squares in Málaga. It lovely when you can sit outside in the sunshine to enjoy your lunch. It turned out to be a typical Spanish lunch. Menu del dia for 8 euros, bargain! It was a good job we were not in any hurry with the meal stretching for nearly 2 hours due to poor service. In that time we were treated to the many, unfortunately common, sights of the street people begging for money. Some just came cap in hand. Others played a tune on the harmonica, badly. We saved our euro for something more deserving and it came when least expected. A homeless man in his mid fifties, rough looking, unshaven and in need of a good wash, came into the square. He finished the last drag of a dimp that he had picked up of off the floor. I was expecting the "cap in hand" request. Far from it. He began to sing, acapella, a few flamenco songs beautifully. Bravo!

Rant! Three in a row for English Sport

I feel the need for a rant over the previous weeks sporting disaster for English Sport. First, Yes I mean English sport, not British. Just to stop all the whinging Celts from saying "Its England if you win and Britain if you lose". I couldn’t give two hoots about Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland.

England Football
I was fortunate enough to be travelling so missed the game. By all accounts we were unlucky. A dodgy penalty awarded against us. Sorry, but the Euro campaign didn’t go wrong in Russia. We were undone a lot sooner than that. Its time to get rid of McClaren as manager or head coach, whatever you want to call him, he has failed in a relatively straight forward group.

England Rugby
I turned up to watch the quarter final against Australia fully expecting to get thrashed. I was there to take it on the chin. Unlike the English football team, these guys were world champions. They deserved my support in the face of seemingly impossible odds. Thanks for the 2003 memories. But what happened? They defied the critics and stood up to be counted. And to prove it was no fluke they did it again against France. Poorest world champions ever? You’re having a laugh!

So it came to the final. Would there be revenge for the pool stage rout? Bloody nearly! The sheer physicality of the opening exchanges were savage. Every tackle, ruck and maul, both sets of players put their bodies on the line. Excellent stuff! Well played South Africa, worthy champions. But what about the try that was not given? Would that have changed the game? Too bloody right it would. Add in some dodgy reffing decisions and you could claim that England should have won. Alas, we will never know.

After the game I was disappointed but proud at the same time. A similar feeling to when Oldham got beat by QPR in the second leg semi in the play-offs at Loftus Road. What a cracking effort that was but ended in defeat. Still, we went out partying to the early hours and got over it. Until I saw the press reports of the ridiculous statement by the Video referee, the Australian Stuart Dickinson. "I'm 100 per cent happy with the decision. His foot runs into touch by about 25 to 30 centimetres. Factually it is indisputable." Oh really Mr Dickinson. 25cm to 30 cms you say? Seeing that the touch line is about 5cm wide, your saying that he didn’t just touch the line, he was over it by 20 to 25cms? 4 to 5 times more than the width of the line? I have seen the video footage again and again. I have not seen one single frame of the "definitive footage" you claim there is. If he had said something like "he just brushes the touch line for a split second before raising it to ground the ball", you might accept it. But why the obvious exaggeration? Guilty conscious or is it just another Aussie enjoying an English defeat? For what its worth I believe it was a genuine try and that he raises his foot at the last split second to avoid the touch line!

If that’s not bad enough, he also admits that he had to watch it in real time due to a language barrier. The French TV producer didn’t slow it down for a better look? That’s why it took so long for him to make his decision. Whats the point of having a Video Ref if the one time he is called on he isn’t capable of ensuring that he sees a slow motion replay? Well, at least it ends the debate over football having a similar system. Don’t bother!

Lewis Hamilton
Oh dear. It seems like he only has himself to blame. Boxed in on the start and passed by Fernando. He doesn’t like that so immediately tries a suicide manoeuvre to overtake him. All you needed to do was keep him in your sights! Then the engine problem. This probably ruined his chances all together but the red mist descending at the first corner could have contributed. Better luck next year and forget about the appeal.

Rant over!

Cueva de la Fajara

This is the first walk in the guidebook "Walk the Axarquia" by Charles Davis. We have decided to start from the beginning and work our way through. Although we have already decided to postpone a few as they involve scaling mountain peaks. They can wait until I get some sort of fitness back!

This walk starts from Alcaucín in the Sierra Tejeda region, just beyond Lake Vinuela. A typical andalusian white village with plenty of narrow roads built before the invention of the motor car. So we left the car at the west side of town and walked to the start point on the east.

View of Alcaucín and Boquete de Zafarraya.

The walk is described as "average" in difficulty. A 10Km walk going up and down the hills and scheduled to take 3 hours and 10 minutes. Such an easy walk that we decided to book a game of tennis for later in the afternoon. How that decision came back to haunt us on Monday morning.
Although the book states that you go up 450 Metres and down the same, you actually do it a lot of times. The first part of the walk was along typical Andalusian tracks that connect the various scattered fincas and corijos. The views are spectacular. From the impressive Boquete de Zafarraya, to the views of Lake Vinuela and the distant village of Comares on top of a hill.

Monica negotiates a washed away track.

The first tricky part comes about an hour and a half from the start. We took a narrow path on the left that lead to an old acequia. At one point this had been replaced by a metal pipe but the pathway hadn’t. It had been eroded away. It is still passible but a little scary if you don’t like heights. After this we came to an old bridge that leads to a plunge pool and an abandoned cortijo. This is where the route got difficult to follow.

Plunge pool.

A few wrong turns here and there before we eventually got back to something ressembling a track. Back on the right path, but not for long. The guide tells you to take the first branch to the right behind a cottage. Slight problem in that there are two cottages. The first right turn was just past the second cottage. It had a gateway and a chain was visible that was used to close off the path. It looked like a private driveway to me, but I couldn’t see any villa. We ignored this track and took the next right turn. Typical, we should have taken the other. 30 minutes wasted before we’re back on track.

The right path leads to a small reservoir that looks more like an unused swimming pool. From here we scramble across the "Parque Natural" for a glimpse of the cave. You cannot get to the cave as it is on the otherside of the fence. At least we couldn’t get lost again. We were to follow the fence for a while. This happens to be another climbing section. It must also be a great place for hunting judging by the amount of shotgun cartridges we saw discarded on the floor. Hope there are no hunters about. Looks like they use seriously big guns.

Danger! Hunters about.

We had to take a 10 minute break in the shade climbing up the path next to the fence. I was shattered. Monica was a little worried thinking that I was going to have an asthma attack any second. The heat, lack of water and the physical exersion from the ascent had taken its toll. I wasn’t in shape for it. Only another hour to go.

On the trail.

Eventually, we had reached the end of the part of the walk where we followed the fence. Alcaucín was in sight. A read the guidebook in dismay when it described the next section. It went over private property. You would need to ask permission to cross. If they said "no" then how much longer would it add to the journey? In any event there was no need to panic. There was nobody to be seen. We crossed the olive groves and reached the road into town. Back to the car and a quick drive home for our tennis gear.

Anyone for Tennis?

Dinner at the Oriental

The last night in Nerja for Mama & Papa and the hangers on. Papa said he would treat us to a meal. So we took them to the Oriental on Burriana beach, the most expensive Chinese in town!


The last night.

The food at the Oriental is top notch. However, it is a little pricey. The other main feature of the place is the character that is "Mr King". No ordering from the Menu if he gets his way. So, we ended up with starters, 2 ducks and a banquet for the main meal. Mr King's eyes lit up as he mentally calculated the bill. Uncle Martin was doing the same but was keeping quiet.


The famous "Ding Dong" sauce on the far right.

Before the starters arrived we were treated to prawn crackers and the sample of sauces. Mr Kings personal favourite, the "Ding Dong". If I had a euro for every time he mentioned it.... Apparently people come from all over the world for his Ding Dong. It's better that "Viagra" for the "Rocket". The number of innuendo jokes flying around I thought I was in a "Carry on" movie.


Kath tries Mr King's Ding Dong.

Spicy is not the word for the Ding Dong sauce. It immediately burns your mouth and continues to get hotter. Kath and Uncle Martin appeared to enjoy it. They even put large dollops of the stuff in their soup. Crazy!


The chef prepares the pancakes.

Before the duck course, Mr King invited us to see the chef make the pancakes. The Chef has a handful of dough in his hand and slow creates a pancake by pouring the mix in to a hot frying pan and creating the circular shape with his fingers. He was putting his fingers into a red hot frying pan! I have to use three tee towels with oven gloves to get things out of the microwave.

We ordered two ducks and two platters appeared with various trimmings. It looked a bit sparse for two ducks but Mr King explained. "The duck is beautiful because I massage away all the fat". He then went on to demonstrate how we should eat the duck. First you take your pancake a spread the special sauce (he wouldn't tell us the recipe) in a straight line across the centre (I'd always smeared it over all the pancake before). Then you take some cabbage like thing from the platter (Again, Mr King refused to say what it was) and place it on your plate. This is for eating after the pancake. Then you take a little of each of the other ingredients such as cucumber, spring onion etc, and put on the line of sauce. Then the duck. Roll and eat. It has to be said, it was the best duck I had eaten.

Between the duck course and the main meal, Mr King fielded questions from the inquisitive trying to guess the ingredients to the sauce. Kath guessed at "Plum". "No! No! No!" and off went Mr King returning with a spoonful of sauce whitish sauce for Kath to try. "That's plum sauce! It gets nowhere near my special sauce!". So all we know is that it is 100% organic food and vegetables from China.

The main course came and we all tucked in. The sizzling beef and curried chicken my favourites. I even tried one of Monica's king prawns, after she had shelled it for me. Very tasty. Everyone enjoyed the food and the entertainment provided by Mr King. Although, he took it a bit far when he joined us at the table. He hovered around when the bill was presented also. He needs to be a little more discreet. Maybe he had heard of my Dad's reputation of being tight and was worried he was going to do a runner. The total bill, 35 Euro a head. Sounds expensive, but when you break it down with all the beer and the quality of the food, it was OK.

A day out at the Alhambra

The Alhambra. A world heritage centre. Should have been included as one of the new 7 wonders of the world. What would mama and papa make of the sheer brilliance of the moorish palace? Not a lot actually.


The Alhambra.

The drive up to Granada is spectacular for the passengers. A little more tense if your driving especially if they are operating the cone system. Which they were, against us. Uncle Martin was griping the wheel in fear, dodging the stray cones all the way up the mountain in the bus. We had set-off 15 minutes after the bus and caught up to them near Granada. At least they won’t get lost this time, although Kath did say they nearly missed the Granada turn. The bus was hugging the slow lane not daring break 80Kmh. I tried to slow down so they could follow. However we had a local police car between us and the Bus. Martin refusing to overtake them. I was only going 30kmh over the limit!

Which of the amazing sites would be the highlight of the families trip? Would it be the Alcazaba with its superb views of Granada? Or the impressive, even if not completed, Palace of Charles V? Maybe the highlight will be the world famous Nasrid palaces? Nope. Only two things dominated the discussion of our trip to the Alhambra. The first was outside whilst having our picnic. A stray dog wandered up to us. It was over the moon when we kept throwing a few scraps. It ended up being better fed than me.


Dingo in the Car Park.

With tickets collected (Note to anyone going to the Alhambra: Pre-book your tickets or queue for hours with no guarantee of getting in), audio guides purchased, we entered the grounds and started the tour. The first stop was the Medina and the Gardens of San Francisco. Then it was the ruins of the Abencerrajes palace and on to the Royal street.


View of Granada from the tower.

The second highlight of the trip for mama and papa was in the Alcazaba. Time was tight as entry to the Nasrid palaces was at 3:00pm. Just time for a quick look around. The young ones had made it to the top tower when mama appeared in all of a fluster. Apparently, a fat man had barged past her on the steps, nearly knocking her down. Said fat man got a right ear bashing. He continued down the steps not in ignorance but more in sheer panic in case Mama "Kick yer shins in" Burkett went for more retribution.


Mama points out the crime scene.

In the Nasrid Palace we enjoyed the sights. The amazing muslim architecture, the use of water, the decorative ceilings. Don’t forget to look up when walking around as the ceilings are usually the highlight of the room. The one disappointment I had was a number of rooms were closed due to renovation. This include the main "Lion" fountain in the centre of the main courtyard. Papa was expressing a different disappointment. "When your in England on a tour, they tell you where all the murders took place…". Not enough gore for him. He managed to feign a bit of interest in the "Sala de los Abencerrajes". Apparently the last sultan of Granada had the "Abencerrajes" family massacred in this room while attending a banquet. The stains in the fountain being their blood, according to legend. "Don’t look like blood to me" and with that Papa slopes off to the next room.


Monica listening to the audioguide.

We had missed the Palacio de Carlos V due to time limits. So , we decided to double back and go see it before the gardens of the Generalife. Not mama, papa or Lyn though. Their back legs had gone. They would wait outside for us. So it was a lightning tour of the palace and then the gardens before meeting back with the grumpy ones and the journey back home. A cultural delight, even if mama and papa didn’t appreciate it.


In the Generalife.