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An Andalusian Adventure – day 3

The White House(s)

With the American Presidential election less than two weeks away, it is hard to escape the race to White House in the news cycle, but today we did our best, escaping to the white houses of the pretty village of Frigiliana, a small, and very pretty “pueblo” or village, nestled in the hills about 5 miles north of Nerja.

We hopped on the local bus – 1.30 euros each – for the 10 minute journey and hopped off to begin exploring. Not really knowing where to go or what to do, we headed off in what seemed a good direction, which took us to the new town, and some spectacular views over the mountains and dried up river bed beyond the city boundaries.

We then found the tourist information office, got ourselves a (free) map, plotted a route and headed off into the old town. Although we didn’t get far before we stopped for coffee, churros and a chill. Black coffee is the fuel for our travel adventures and in our three days in Andalusia it has been hot, strong, and cheap – perfecto! Re-energised, we began our amble along picturesquely pretty streets, all houses painted white, often adorned with pots and plants.

Along the way, the route was punctuated with mosaic pictures telling a story in image and words. I did my best to translate them, they were tricky, but I did get the general sense that they were telling the story of the conflict in these regions between the Christians and the Muslims in centuries gone by.

My not to be trusted translation skills also suggested that, according to our map, there was a sculpture celebrating the “three cultures” to be found. Navigating to this point, I found the “Mill house” – casa del molino – and a grinding wheel on a plinth, but that couldn’t be it, surely. Then I spotted this:

… and I saw the light! A sculpture depicting the crescent moon of Islam, a Star of David, and a cross – the three cultures, it made sense to me. And seeing the plaque, my thinking was confirmed …

“Three Cultures, Two Sculptors, and One God.” by Perry Oliver and Robert Harding. There was more artwork to be found in the town – we visited the working gallery of Klaus Hinkel whose work is clearly inspired by the town

and later on found another gallery display some interesting work (sadly I don’t have any info about this gallery, or the artists, or the art they created, other than “I liked it”) The first photo below is a sculpture made of wool – instantly recognisable as a painting I can’t name! – and the second a stunning eye made from small cuts of fabric.

Frigiliana was a delight to visit. There are a couple of hiking routes (I think – we didn’t do any of these) that run from Frigiliana to Nerja, one is 7km and one (GR249 stage 5) 14km that would make a good day for the fit and adventurous. I’d get the bus to Frigiliana and walk to Nerja – that way you’d be going downhill! But after traipsing the Caminito del Ray yesterday, our aching limbs prompted us to get the bus back into town.

Back in town, we headed to the beach – the other side from where we went two days ago – and had myself another swim. The water was still “refreshing” (code for a little cold!) but was so clear. Swimming along the coast, I went past some rocks and discovered and explored a couple of other coves. It was a lovely place to swim – although possibly pipped by Kimilos, one of the best places I have swum all year.

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An Andalusian Adventure – day 2

Vultures, Goats and a King

It was up early today to catch a 9am bus (and 9am is early when on holiday, and certainly in Spanish time!) for a trip to the Caminito del Ray – Pathway of the King – a hike through the mountains to the north of Malaga along what was once a pathway through a gorge, used by workers to access and service a hydro-electric plant built at the start of the 1900s.

The King of the day – Alfonso XIII – opened a reservoir built to hold water for the plant, and the route, a treacherous walkway along the cliff-side, was named in his honour. By the 1990s, an underwater pipe had replaced the canal through which the water flowed, negating the need for maintenance of the canal and the pathway fell into disuse, except by local climbers and adventurers. Sadly, in the early 2000’s three young locals used a wire as a zip-line to traverse the gorge (as many had done before them, but not three at the same time) The wire failed, the three perished. The locals demanded that the walkways be made safe and, following a lot of work, and a lot of money, the Caminito del Ray was reopened to the public in circa 2014, and is now a major tourist destination.

We (paid for and) joined an organised trip that picked us up in Nerja, and took us – via several other pick up spots, and the pretty white Andalusian village of Ardales – to the Caminito.

I think you can do the Caminito independently, but getting there without a hire car isn’t easy, and when there I think you have to have pre-booked a slot – going as part of an organised tour did prove to be a good option – everything was organised and easy.

Having de-bussed at the northern end of the route, we had to walk through rock tunnel and woodland for about 15 minutes before the official start of the walk begins. Here, you are issued your mandatory helmet, and receive a safety briefing, before hitting the path. We had two guides, so our coach load split into two groups – one German speaking group, the other English speaking. But we could choose to head off on our own – no chance to get lost, you “just” follow the path. Becky and I chose to do this, allowing us to go at our own pace and find some space between us and our other hikers, but the guides were excellent and interesting, and staying with them would have been no bad thing.

The walk was fantastic – suitably adventurous, but never feeling unsafe. At times you proceeded along a wooden walkway suspended from the side of the cliff, overhanging the river rushing a hundred feet below your feet, other times it was a wide stony path through woodland, still high above the water. At all times the views were spectacular.

We saw mountain goats:

And to my delight, I looked up, and against the azure blue sky, I saw, soaring majestically, vultures, a whole flock of vultures – 20, 30 or more of them silhouetted against a perfect sky.

As a boy growing up in the ’70s and early ’80s, vultures often featured in comics and cartoons, typically circling a poor soul about to meet their imminent doom in a parched desert landscape. If you saw a vulture, your days were numbered, these birds biding their time until your ultimate demise, when they would then feast on your lifeless body – so not a sight you’d want to see! But as I grew older, I realised they had become a comedic short hand to mean you were in dire straits, and in reality they were harmless, magnificent majestic birds to be seen soaring the heights were the weather was good. I really was delighted to see them.

As the pathway reached its conclusion, there was one last challenge to face – crossing a wire bridge strung across the gorge, high above the water below. The weather had been beautiful – warm, but not too hot, but at this point, funnelled by the cliff walls, a strong wind was blowing, to make the crossing just that little bit more “adventurous!”

Having crossed the bridge, and with the risk of falling stone or bashing your head against a rock diminishing, we were soon able to take of our helmets, although their was still a further 1.5km walk to the end of the route, and a rest area with toilets, seats, and food kiosks. We caught our breath, enjoyed a late lunch and relaxed as we waited for the rest of our party to finish their journey.

The walk itself was about 2 and a half hours (although we didn’t time it, and you can go at your own pace) and the journey time to and from Nerja was about an hour and half. A long day, but a fantastic day – if you get the chance I recommend your follow in the footsteps of Kings and walk the Caminito del Ray (and don’t forget to look up, to see those vultures!)

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An Andalusian Adventure – Day 1

Back to my happy place …

It was after an uneventful flight that landed on time, albeit late in the evening/night (10pm local time) that our problems began. Swiftly exiting the plane, we headed along corridor and through passage, before arriving at Passport Control. Or not quite at Passport Control – more correctly at the back of a very, very long queue to get to the front of Passport Control. Had we still been Europeans, we could have joined a long, but quick moving queue, but no, since a disastrous day in 2016, we are no longer Europeans so instead had to join a longer, slower moving queue. An hour and ten minutes later, we finally emerged from the purgatory of immigration control and onto the sanctity of Spanish soil, to begin our Andalusian adventure. Join us on our journey across the Costa del Sol.

It was dark, late and we were tired as we got in our taxi to take us on the 45 minute trip to our home for the next few days – Nerja. As we barrelled along the smooth, speedy road taking us east of Malaga, a beautiful big orange moon greeted us and guided us to our destination. We arrived after midnight to find our apartment clean, quiet and comfortable and soon climbed into bed, dreaming of the day to come.

We woke to blue skies and sunshine, and an instant feeling that any hiccups along the way were a price to pay for the privilege of a few days away. Getting our bearings, we headed out, but soon stopped for breakfast – tostada con tomate, coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. Delicious! To be honest, we don’t rate Spanish cuisine too highly, but tostada con tomate is the best breakfast in the world! As we chomped on our toast, lavished with olive oil and pulped tomatoes, it was obvious that we were “fresh off the boat” – we were the ones sat in full sunshine, all the other patrons were, perhaps more sensibly, sat in the shade. After months of grey sky and rain at home, blue sky and sunshine seemed like such a treat.

We began to explore – down to the Balcon de Europa to see the sea and take in the vista, then through the pretty streets and squares, stopping again for more coffee. Now “localized” Becky sought the shade, but I still sat in the sun, soaking up the rays and luxuriating in the warm glow.

Before long, we found ourselves walking along the beach front, and I could resist no longer.

It was time for a dip.

The water was inviting, but as soon as you dipped a toe in, you realised looks can be deceptive – it was not warm, in fact a little chilly. But I had my trunks on by now, so I headed out to sea, but by the time it was thigh height my resolve was wavering. I paused. I waited, and paused again. Eventually, though, I took the plunge and was in, swimming a few vigorous strokes to resist the clawing cold. I have some friends who go cold water swimming in the lakes and sea back home in the UK – how do they do it, I thought?

But soon I got used to the water, the sun was shinning, and I swam happily up and down the shoreline.

I was back in my happy place, swimming in the sea. Heaven.

Once out, like an iguana, I basked on some rocks to warm up before we continued along the beach front. We encountered the “Fountain of Europe” – a sculpture – that first piqued my interest, and then left me a little sad.

A stone circle with the names of cities of Andalusia carved into its base, from which a tower of blocks rose, each block carved with the name of a country – England, Germany, Greece, Belgium to name a few of the nine nations named. Reading the “blurb” that went with the sculpture, it told that it was built to mark the fraternity of nations that share a similar culture, democracy, and outlook. It was erected in 1986 to mark Spain joining the EU. It does sadden me that we, the UK, are no longer part of the EU, and the short sighted folly that caused us to leave.

But I wont let that ruin my visit. I have been practising my Spanish on unsuspecting, but very forgiving, locals. Now, most of the the time, I can make myself understood, and understand any replies, and being able to a least “attempt” to use the language does add another dimension to my holiday experience.

Nerja hasn’t disappointed: pretty, compact, busy but not overcrowded, a happy few days await, and I am sure I’ll be back in my happy place – the sea – before too long.

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A Greek Odyssey – day 31

It ain’t over ’til its over

After a day wandering the harbours of Piraeus – to be fair, largely killing time, there is not too much to see and do -a delicious final gyros for lunch and packing our rucksacks for the last time (I shan’t miss that, although now have it down to an art form: everything has its place) we set of at circa 6 pm for the 8 minute walk to the metro, to get the tube to the airport (9 euros each, a little over sixty minutes travel) for our flight just before midnight.

Two minutes out from the hotel, my phone blared that I had text. I paused to take a look, and my heart sank: “Sorry your flight is delayed, please check your app for details.” So I did. And my heart sank further – a two hour delay. We decided to press on, leaving Sophie (our daughter back in the UK) to investigate whilst we entered a wi-fi black-spot of the underground. From what she could gather, it was due to air traffic control problems – the outbound jet from Bristol was at the airport, and passengers were called to the gate.

By the time we arrived at the airport – fresh after a comfortable journey – the situation had not improved, and as the clock ticked on, the prognosis worsened – for no discernible reason (to us in Greece, anyway) the jet was not departing Bristol. I was beginning to suspect the flight might be cancelled. At the end of our odyssey, we don’t want to leave Greece, and it looks like Greece doesn’t want us to leave!

However, we still had to go through the motions of checking in our luggage, so I joined the back of the queue, reckoning by the time I reached the front either our aircraft would have left Bristol, or the flight would have been cancelled. Sophie was monitoring the flight on flight radar – as I progressed along the queue she messaged to say the flight status had changed to unknown – that sounded omminus. But a few minutes later, tracking the flight on the map, it began to move along the taxiway at Bristol airprot; progress and hope! As I edged to the front of the queue it was holding before final turn onto the runway threshold. But then it held, and held, and held. My hope began to ebb. I reached the front of the queue, as I looked at my phone to change to my boarding pass I saw the aircraft begin to move, its speed increasing: 40 knots, 70 knots, I couldn’t keep looking as I had to hand in my bags, but I knew she was taking to the air, and the chances of our returning home – albeit late – suddenly looked likely.

As I type, we should be an hour into our flight, but we still have an hour and a half before our (new) expected departure time. But we are coming home. The odyssey ends. Its been wonderful, I have loved every minute and would happily turn the clock back a month and do it all again.

Exharisto, Greece, you have been a wonderful host.

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A Greek Odyssey – day 30

Athens!

Athens – what a (great) surprise.

We hadn’t really intended to go into Athens on this trip – we have a couple of nights in the port city/suburb of Piraeus, built into our trip in case there was any problems (weather cancellations) with our ferry before our flight home tomorrow. We’d thought we’d spend a calm day mooching around Piraeus, avoiding Athens in the height of summer. But the hotel staff this morning suggested that there really wasn’t too much to do in Piraeus so we decided to head into Athens.

We hopped on the metro (7 mins from our hotel) which is the end of the line, so no problem bagging seats, and had a comfortable and cool 20 minute trip into the heart of Athens (a return ticket was circa 2.50 euros) and what a good decision it was – Athens was wonderful: not the hot, crowded, dirty, polluted city I had feared. We got of the metro at Monastraki, happened to look up, and saw the Acropolis towering over us from afar!

We headed into the Psirri region, which ended up being my favourite, a chilled, quirky part of the capital – quite probably recently “gentrified”, but still retaining a uniqueness and charm. Street art was in abundance, so Becky was in her element and we spent a couple of hours ambling aimlessly through its streets, taking in the ambience and culture, never feeling threatened or at risk.

We wandered from there through Plaka, and then up to into Anafiotika – a still lived in labyrinth of white houses and tiny alleyways

… and views:

This area was a fortuitous find – we discovered it whilst looking for more street art like this:

Whilst I do like a good story, and history is a great source of many a fantastic tale, neither of us are too much into ancient ruins (although that, perhaps, does not bode well for me: after a day traipsing the hot streets of Athens, I certainly feel like an old ruin) and after lunch, rather than visit Hadrian’s Library, The Agora or other sites of antiquity, we headed over to the Olympic stadium from the birth of the modern Olympics in 1896. The heat was immense, so we didn’t go in, but it was spectacular to look at from outside.

We wondered back through the cool green oasis of the National Gardens, saw Greek soldiers in their “fancy” uniform guarding the Parliament building before sitting down for a refreshing ice cream – it was hot, although I do think that a month “in country” has helped us to acclimatise and cope with the high temperatures in the city: it didn’t feel overwhelmingly hot, but that ice cream was welcome!

I really enjoyed our day out in Athens – it felt like a bonus day and the city itself was much “better” than I had expected. Very different from the laid back nature of the islands, but I’m very glad we went.

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A Greek Odyssey – day 29

A slow boat to China Athens

This afternoon we left our final island – Syros- and took a slow boat to Piraeus, the port of Athens. Not being in any great rush to get to the city we had taken the cheaper option of sailing on Blue Star Ferries – Blue Star Paros – a big, old fashioned roll on roll off car ferry rather than the sleek and swift catamarans of Seajets and Fast Ferries. The journey was fine, and certainly didn’t seem like four hours. Once we were on the boat, we did regret our super economy tickets (pretty much down in the bowels of the boat, with an oar each. I jest, of course. We were entitled to roam the middle and upper decks, sitting on cafe chairs, or plastic patio chairs) and found some super comfy “airline seats” that hadn’t been occupied. We sat in them, and waited to see if anyone would come and claim these numbered seats, they didn’t. There was then an announcement that you could upgrade your seats, so I went to see the Purser and for 14 Euros each we could claim our seats for the whole trip, I paid up, and we settled down to enjoy the trip. No-one subsequently came to check our tickets, we needn’t have paid the money, but for peace of mind and comfortable bottoms, it was worth it.

Arriving in Piraeus was a bit of a culture shock – after 4 weeks of chilling on various Greek islands, taking life at a leisurely pace, the noise, bustle and speed of this port city was an assault on the senses. It is a different world to the one we have lived of late – bright lights, rushing people and unforgiving traffic. We have a couple of days here, we will enjoy it but, I think, perhaps not as much as the sedentary island life of Sifnos, Syros et al.

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A Greek Odyssey – day 28

My Yogi would be proud

Some might say I’m snoozing, but I would contest that I am merely practising some yoga moves on the beach!

Twenty eight days in, and it has come to this: falling asleep whilst reading on the beach. Bliss – what more could you want from a holiday?!

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A Greek Odyssey – day 27

Syros – where the Greeks come on holiday

I’ve been enjoying Syros – perhaps I don’t have too much to write as the days have fallen into a lovely lazy routine of wake with the sunshine, across the road for a swim, back to the apartment for breakfast on the balcony, watching the world go by, another amble across the road to our favourite spot under a tree on the beach 5 minutes from our apartment, swim, chill, chat, stare out to sea, back to the apartment late afternoon for a shower, coffee (and possibly a snooze) before having to decide do we turn left or right to go out for dinner.

Today, we chose right, and had a delicious meal in a busy taverna. We arrived at circa 8pm and already most tables were full or reserved, but we managed to get a table, …

…enjoyed each others company, wonderful food, and the hub-bub of a busy taverna as the light faded to darkness.

Whilst there are a few other English holiday makers here, and a few other northern Europeans (including a group of young lads from Republic of Ireland who have annoyed Becky with their competitive bickering whilst playing “ball” in the sea) most of our fellow tourists here on the island of Syros are Greek – probably escaping the heat of Athens (into which cauldron we soon travel). And I can think of no higher recommendation than to go on holiday where the locals choose to go.

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A Greek Odyssey – day 26

Standards!

I will confess, as time on our trip has passed, it is possible that one’s standards may have eroded a little. We left the UK with clean, laundered and ironed clothes, T- shirts changed daily, cleanliness being next to godliness and all that. Now, a few weeks in, new norms have been established: a T-shirt does at least two days, then I take it in the shower with me to give it a rinse through – dry it in the sunshine and wind, and its good to go again.

For lunch today, we picnicked on the beach – a hunk of bread, an apple and some pretzels. I am told – although I fervently disagree – that I have “grabby hands” when it comes to crisps and the like, and I am forbidden for delving into sharing bags as I come away with a handful, too much, apparently. So denied direct access to our bag of pretzels, and with no bowls or plates to hand, one of my slider shoes was pressed into action as a plate for my pretzels. OK – perhaps standards are on the slide(r!) after 26 days of travelling, but it worked.

Later in the day, after a shower and a proper sit down meal with full crockery we continued our amble along the Posidonia side of the bay and came across a hotly contested game of beach volleyball that we watched for ten minutes or so. This was on the “trendy”” beach and we definitely were not in the age profile of the rest of the beach users, but it was fun to watch this great sport being played.

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A Greek Odyssey – day 25

Greek time

We are now well in to our fourth week in Greece and we have very much succumbed to “Greek time”: long, lazy mornings, lunch at around 3 o’clock and evenings that spill effortlessly into night time. It’s perfect. And whilst days begin to merge into each other, each day does seem to, unexpectedly, offer something new and surprising. This morning (it may have actually been the afternoon – who knows, or cares!) as we headed off to the beach on a patch of scrub-land near our apartment we spotted some cacti flowering. I’ve never seen these cactus in flower before – beautiful, big yellow flowers, and we weren’t the only ones enjoying the show, a great big bumble bee was taking its fill of nectar.

(And this evening, we shared our taverna with someone famous. Becky spotted him (I wouldn’t know him from Adam), a male model, dining with his wife and two young children. I won’t say who he was because a) I don’t really know who he was and, more importantly, b) just like us, he was enjoying his holiday on this beautiful Greek island and he has the right to do that in anonymity just like anyone else. (For the record our food was delicious – especially the grilled mushrooms – but we ordered far too much!)

Kalispera.