Costa del So(u)l

I left Sevilla last Saturday around 1PM, and headed for Malaga on the Costa del Sol. Like I said before, I'd been looking forward to seeing other parts of Spain so it wasn't too hard to leave. My last day in class was a little bittersweet, though, just because everyone I met was so nice and I really enjoyed studying at Enforex. In only three weeks, I went from being so unsure of my Spanish that I could barely ask for a coffee, to having confidence enough to argue for a price adjustment in El Corte Ingles. Clearly I've learned the skills essential for survival :o)

Now, to Malaga. My friend Kate, who also went to Granada and Cordoba with me, came down for the weekend. We arrived together around 4PM on Saturday and, after dropping our bags at the hotel, went straight out for a glass of wine. I'm convinced that one of the best ways to see a Spanish city is from a cafe table, with some vino tinto. The people-watching is incredible, and Malaga didn't fail us... Malaguenos have definitely got soul, and they're even louder than Sevillanos. Apparently the two cities are arch rivals in everything from futbol, to who has a better semana santa, to who's more passionate in general. Of course, I'm partial to Sevilla!

Saturday night, around 11PM, we went to a tapas bar I read about online -- all locals, all the time (I don't know if I'll ever get used to eating this late). The food was fantastic, but the service was better. Our waiter was probably between 50 and 60, and before we even spoke, he asked us where in the United States we're from. It's funny to me that people can immediately recognize Americans -- why don't we look Canadian? Or British? My friend Alyson had the same experience in Madrid, so I know it's not just me! Anyway, Kate loves to drink Jack Daniel's and diet Coke (the waiter had already called us Americans before this -- Jack wasn't the giveaway), so the real conversation with our waiter started immediately when she ordered. He applauded me for drinking red wine and not huiss-keeeey.

Sunday morning, we got up and walked to the main square in Malaga, where we met our guide for a bike tour of the city! I was so excited to get on a bike, even if it was a beach cruiser. Kate and I got our own private tour since we were the only two people who signed up for Sunday -- our guide, Kay, is just getting started giving these tours, and she said she really doesn't have much business yet (don't worry, I'm getting her set up with Google AdWords). Kay took us by all of the main sights in Malaga and told us about the history of each -- the city is notorious because Picasso was born here and, like every other town in Spain, it has a beautiful Catholic cathedral or three. The thing I like best about Malaga is the coast line. We rode our bikes along the Costa del Sol for quite a while (on the Mediterranean), and when we got to some Roman ruins that have been converted to a beachfront bar we -- you guessed it -- stopped for a glass of wine. A friend of Kay's from her cycling club, Teresa, happened to be at the same place with her 9-year-old son Marcello, so they joined us. This was the best part of the bike tour, and one of the best parts of my trip to Malaga. Teresa, like almost every other Andalusian, does not speak a lick of English. She sat with us for about an hour, though, and there was never a lull in the conversation. She was very curious about where we come from, and what it's really like in the US, and she was also interested in us understanding Malaga. And her son made me eat one of his fried anchovies. It was gross, but the afternoon with them was lots of fun. After our hydration break, we headed back up the coast to see the bullring in Malaga, and then we rode back to Kay's "office."

Kate was supposed to take the 8PM train back to Sevilla Sunday, but when I started talking about the trip to Gibraltar I had planned for the next day, she decided she had to stay and see Gibraltar, too. I was definitely happy to have the company -- Gib, as they call it, is a three-hour bus ride from Malaga, and then a 20-30 minute walk across the border into town... no small feat. Monday morning, we got on the bus at 7AM, and by 10:45AM, we were in the midst of fish, chips, English, and Cadbury chocolate. It was incredible -- Gibraltar, at the very south of Spain, and so close to Africa, is just like being somewhere in the UK. I was fascinated. After we had an English breakfast, we took a gondola/cable car up the side of the rock of Gibraltar. From the bus station, the rock didn't look like much, but it's quite huge when you get up next to it. As you ride the cable car up to the summit, you can see the Strait of Gibraltar, and Spain, and on a clear day, Africa. It's amazing.

We stepped off the cable car at the very top of the rock, where there's a terrace/viewpoint, and a gift shop. And a bunch of wild apes. For the 48 hours before our arrival in Gibraltar, I'd been carrying on and on about the monkeys, telling Kate how I couldn't wait to see them. So, I was surprised at myself when I turned around and walked the other way when I saw the first monkey. I imagined that these wild animals would be some distance from me, in a cage or something, but they literally roam around free, sans muzzles. And they love to grab at women's bags, just to make sure no one has any spare bananas. It's insane. I witnessed a couple of near-bag-snatchings -- the monkeys are shameless, and they don't let go of your bag once they've grabbed on. We saw one monkey stand around the corner and plot his attack... if only I had been quicker with the video camera! Further down the hill, towards the caves, the monkeys hang out in the street and jump on the cabs that come by. They also jump on the people -- a few tourists stood in the road with monkeys around their necks and on their heads. I may have died on the Rock of Gibraltar had one thought I looked good enough to climb.

All in all, Gibraltar was one of the most unique places I've visited, given it's history and culture. There's an interesting Spanish influence on the British people living there -- you notice it in the way they speak, and also in their disregard for time, which people I encountered while traveling in the UK did not have. The people speak a strange combination of Spanish and English, and you can barely find a tapa in Gib to save your life. When you do find something you want to buy, you've got to pay for it in GBP. God bless the Brits for holding their ground. Literally.

Kate left early Tuesday morning, to make it back to Sevilla in time for class. I also left Malaga early, but I went to Ronda for the day. Ronda is about 2.5 hours from Malaga, in the Spanish sierras. Going up a steep and winding hill in a Spanish bus was a whole new experience for me -- there was a point I thought I might be sick, and I don't get motion sickness. Anyway, Ronda is a pueblo blanco, or whitewashed town, of which there are many in Andalusia. All the little houses are white and, as they run down the hill, they look as if they are each stacked directly on top of the next. Ronda is also famous because bullfighting originated there -- the town is pretty small and there's not a lot to do even today, but I still don't think I'd be so bored as to kill a bunch of bulls just for the hell of it. Oh, I know, I know, it's art, and a tradition, and a sport! The arena in Ronda is actually quite beautiful although it is very small. Obviously it's the first to have been built in Spain, and you can walk out in the middle of it -- it's an interesting perspective from the middle of a bullring. I wonder what goes through a matador's mind as he's standing there amongst a ton of cheering Spaniards and a bull who's mad as hell... I also was able to walk around the stables there, and into the equestrian school where I saw a man training to become a picador.

Beyond the bullring in Ronda is the Puente Nuevo, a magnificently old and intricate bridge that connects the old and new towns. Ronda is a city built into the side of the mountains, and a huge gorge separates the old section from the new. I've never seen anything quite like the bridge in Ronda. As you walk from the bullring to the bridge, the town around you is incredibly small, and you certainly don't realize you're on top of a cliff. But as soon as you reach the Puente Nuevo and look down, you suddenly feel like you are on top of the world. It's amazing -- the bridge is probably 100 feet from side to side, if that, but the gorge it crosses is incredibly deep. I tried and tried to get a picture of the entire thing, but there was no vantage point that would allow me to capture the entire height of the bridge. The original designer is said to have fallen to his death right after the bridge was completed -- he was there checking his work, and lost his footing. I think a bull from the nearby arena pushed him.

Of all the cities I've been to so far, Ronda is one of my favorites. Something about it is very serene, and it's incredibly beautiful being built into the cliffs and all. The day I visited Ronda was very quiet (and cold), and somehow I think it was a typical day. I will definitely go back, next time for longer. I have to find a spot that allows a full bridge shot!

Today I've been shopping and relaxing -- it's nice to have some downtime, without cathedrals and museums. I was actually supposed to do an interview with the BBC today, but that didn't happen... Kay, my bike tour guide, had set me up with them because they're looking to speak with people who have taken her tour and are traveling through Spain. I spoke briefly with the reporter yesterday while I was in Ronda, and he asked that I get in touch when I returned to Malaga. I did, but it seems he lost interest after finding out it'd just be me... he said it's better to have a group so you can bounce things off of one another during the discussion. It's actually probably better that I don't go on the BBC to talk about traveling around Spain -- I'm pretty sure they'd make me look like a dumb American ;o)

Tomorrow I am taking the high-speed train to Madrid... I'm excited. On a tip from a friend, I splurged and went for a first-class ticket. You better believe I'll be in the station way in advance so I can take advantage of the lounge, too. I'm meeting HB in Madrid, where we'll be for four days. During that time, I'll take a day trip or two -- I really want to see Toledo and Cuenca. We're then headed to Salamanca and Segovia, and another S-town where his old friend lives, and then back to Madrid to fly home. I can't believe I've only got a little less than two weeks here. Time flies...

Malaga photos are here, Gibraltar photos are here, and Ronda photos are here!