Sunday was back to being sunny and gorgeous again. We were told that, when it does rain, it does so for about a day at most and then goes away as if nothing had ever happened. There was no humidity and not a cloud in the sky.

Perfect day for the beach.

We put on swimsuits and comfy clothes and set out in search of a beachside restaurant Beth and Paul had told us about, La Familia.  The majority of the little restaurants along the beach also have a gaggle of beach lounge chairs under umbrellas that you can hang out in and they will come serve you.  At La Familia, these were all full, but we found a table on the patio and proceeded to enjoy some sangria and a little dessert.

To our surprise, Beth and Paul had the same idea.  They joined us at our table and we spent the entire afternoon talking, drinking, taking pictures, and swapping stories.  Beth and I each convinced our husbands to buy us some pretty beach pullovers from the vendor walking around.

We finished up with tea and coffee as the sun started to set, and said our goodbyes to our new friends.  We decided to take a walk down the beach, which was so peaceful and wonderful.  The sand is littered with small shells and stones but not in a painful way.  The water was cold so I only dipped my feet in it then stayed on the sand.  Stephen took some pictures of me on the rocks that we had seen from our terrace a few days ago.

It was very tranquil.

For dinner, we decided to splurge and go somewhere really nice.  There was a restaurant called Max Beach right over the highway from our resort.  It was on the water and split into two sections.  The right hand side was a fine dining restaurant; the left side was a bar.

The food was incredible.  The wine was amazing.  There was a live harpist, candlelight, and the sounds of waves on the shore.

A perfect end to a perfect honeymoon.

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On Saturday, we didn’t have to wake up nearly as early as Gibraltar is only about an hour away along the coast. Unfortunately, this was the day nature picked to rain on southern Europe so we didn’t get the full effect of Gibraltar – namely, seeing Africa.

It was still very beautiful and it was great to be in a predominantly English-speaking area for a few hours.  Gibraltar is owned by the United Kingdom.  There is a border with a passport check and customs.  However, according to our tour guide (who was delighted that we all spoke English so he could to the tour in English), they receive no financial assistance from Great Britain whatsoever.  They have their own government, laws, school system, hospitals, social and economic structure and they are completely self-sufficient.  It’s a relatively small city, only a few thousand live there.  There are a plethora of churches and pubs, the streets are narrow, and the old city walls cut through the middle of the modern city.

Looming over the whole area is The Rock itself.  It’s pretty impressive and somewhat intimidating, especially when you glimpse all the old cannons and battle turrets that dot the cliffs.  There are still training facilities for various countries’ military units which still operate up on the mountain.  On the whole, it’s fairly quiet and peaceful.  There’s a bustling atmosphere down on Main Street where all the tourists go to shop, but up on the mountain itself, it’s quiet.

Even the monkeys don’t say much.

But they will jump on you.

Our tour guide dropped us off at a system of caves about halfway up the mountain and told us he’d meet us on the other side.  The caves were lovely and actually house a natural theatre the locals use for concerts and shows.  At the exit was a souvenir shop where I bought my requisite keychain and some water.  I also bought some cookies.

Earlier, our guide told us to keep purses closed and anything wrapped in plastic out of sight as the monkeys identify that as food and will try to take it from you.  He said there would be a few by the vans when we came out so to be careful.  I did not expect a monkey to be right outside the exit of the shop.

Yes, he jumped on me.

Twice.

I kept my cookies though.  Take that, monkey.

The guide took us further up the mountain to show us the views (what we could see through the weather) and told us stories about the area, cracking jokes the whole time (I love British humor).  It was a ton of fun and I would love to go back and just hang out there for a few days.

Or live there.

When we returned to our penthouse, we dressed for dinner and returned to El Cortijillo for Paul’s birthday.  It was a lot of fun, filled with good food, good wine, some flaming sambucas and great company.  We met some of Beth and Paul’s friends who lived in the same apartment complex as them and received multiple invites to various peoples’ homes should we ever visit England.  We were peppered with questions about our accents (or, in my case, my lack of accent), our views on our new President, differences in language, and we compared “misconceptions” we all run into meeting people not from our country.

Needless to say, we returned to the resort a little on the tipsy side but looking forward to our beach day the next day.  It was to be our last day and we couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than on the Mediterranean beach.

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Granada is located about 2 hours or so north-ish of Málaga.  In order to facilitate a full day’s trip, the bus picked us up at 6.20am.  Yes, that says “am” and it was very, very “am.”  The bus was comfortable and fairly quiet so, between napping, we watched the Spanish countryside roll by as the sun came up.  We saw olive tree farms, which were really pretty.

Olive trees aren’t very large or bushy.  Our tour guide, Paco, who spoke five languages fluently, explained to us that the olive picking goes in stages.  First the green olives are hand-picked and washed and packaged for eating.  The remaining olives on the trees are left to turn black.  Once they turn black, nets are spread on the ground around each tree and the trees are shaken gently, causing all the olives to fall onto the nets.  These are the olives pressed into olive oil.  Paco was also very proud of the fact that the olive oil from that region was just that – olive oil.  No other additives or preservatives.

Yes, we brought some back.

We arrived in Granada about 10am and were taken to what is known as “Old Granada” which is where the older buildings, their major Catedral and the small shops are located.  There, Paco gave us a brief history lesson and then left us to our own devices for about an hour, afterwards we’d have lunch and head to Alhambra.

We decided to tour the Catedral and peek at the shops.  If you ever do this, be sure to skirt the crazy women with herbs.  They will grab you, hand you an herb and start prattling on about something Spanish and then want payment.  I handed the herb back and walked off.  It was weird at best.

The Catedral in Granada is gorgeous as well.  Not nearly as immense as the one in Málaga but still full of beautiful artwork, statues, and stained glass.  There are orange trees everywhere and there were two musicians outside playing flamenco music on guitars.  They were incredibly talented and gave the whole place so much atmosphere.  It was a small corner of history tucked in amongst modern buildings, cars and modern clothing.

We got back on the bus to head up to Alhambra, which wasn’t too far outside the city.  We were greeted with gorgeous views of the Sierra Nevada mountains, many of which were still capped in snow.

Upon reaching Alhambra, those of us who paid for lunch were taken to a restaurant for lunch.  Now, in the US, if you pay for a lunch on a day trip, what do you get?  A ham sandwich, a Coke, some chips and maybe an apple.

We had a full three course meal with wine in a private dining room.

Yes.

After we were pleasantly stuffed and a little buzzed, we were taken to Alhambra and split up into groups according to language for the official tour.

Alhambra is breathtaking.  And huge.  And so full of goosebump-inducing history.

Alhambra was built by the moors when they occupied Spain and is where the Sultan lived with his wives and court.  It is in this location that Christopher Columbus was given permission to find a sea route to India.  (yes, goosebumps)  The architecture is so incredibly detailed, with arabic carved into the tiles, the ceilings an homage to their religion and perfect symmetry in nearly every room.

We also saw the room Washington Irving stayed in when he visited in 1829, where he wrote the book Tales of Alhambra.  Of course I  bought a copy.

There are gardens everywhere and fountains.  Loads of fountains as water plays a very important part in their religion.

The whole tour took about three hours to complete.  We didn’t go see the summer home because, after 3 hours of walking, standing, and climbing stairs, the phrase “40 more minutes and most of it is stairs” was not at all appealing.

We returned to the bus and began the long drive back to Malaga, arriving around dinner time.  Not really wanting to find a restaurant, we went to Club Marbella (our breakfast spot) for dinner and were pleasantly surprised with a live show of belly dancers with our food.

It was a long, tiring but impressive day and we were especially excited for our trip to Gibraltar the next day.

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With the day trips planned for Friday and Saturday, we decided Thursday was our “return to El Centro and be tourists again” day.  The game plan was Castillo de Gibralfaro, Catedral, and, if we had time, the Picasso Museum.  After driving down to Plaza Mayor to ditch the car and take the train the rest of the way, we again climbed on the gaudy tourist bus.  The tourist buses make an hour and a half circuit around El Centro, stopping at frequent stops.  As long as you hold onto your ticket, you can get on and off as much as you want to.  So we figured we’d take the bus to the Castle, wander about for an hour and a half, get back on the bus to go to the Catedral, wander about and then go to the Museum.

Our plan worked perfectly.

Well, we didn’t make it to the museum, but the Castle and the Catedral were amazing.

Castillo de Gibralfaro sits up in the mountainside and looks out over the harbor and El Centro.  It is a massive structure and wonderfully preserved/restored.  It’s connected to Castillo Alcazaba by a zig-zag walkway.  We didn’t pay for the tour to the smaller castle, just Gibralfaro, which was more than enough for us.  The stonework on the walkways was intricate and beautiful.  The images of people living, fighting, and working within these walls seemed very much alive in the now quiet setting.  The vast majority of the castle is open to the public and they even have a little cafe at the very top of the climb where we had baguette sandwiches and fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Needless to say, we took hundreds of pictures.

After the castle, we took the bus back down the mountainside and into El Centro and got off at the Catedral.  To say this place was large would be an understatement.  Imagine any catholic cathedral you have been inside in the US.  Now multiply it by five.  The size of this place was breathtaking and the detail and decor inside was aweinspiring.

The Catedral itself is mostly one massive room with a central dias and pews and organ where mass is still held today.  Around the outer perimeter are alcoves, each with a different biblical scene displayed through the use of woodwork, stonework and/or paintings.  The Catedral took over 200 years to finish and that time span is exemplified as you go from alcove to alcove.  Style, materials and stories change as the years go by.  Some of the alcoves are laid out in gold with exquisite marble carvings; others are simple (yet grand) woodworking motifs with angels.

Simply put, the entire Catedral was stunning.

By the time we were done there and back on the bus, it was later in the afternoon and we wanted to be back to the resort (or in the area) by dinner time so we decided to forego the Picasso Museum (next trip!) and head back on the train.

Once back, we showered and changed and went out to dinner.  We returned to La Mijas and went to a small restaurant that advertised BBQ.  What they consider to be BBQ, we have no idea, because we were immediately curious about the “Meats on a Hot Stone for Two” entree.

You would never see this in the US.

They bring you a small metal stand with a small flame in the bottom.  On top of that stand they set a blazing hot black stone.  On your table they set a plate filled with raw pork, chicken, beef and sausage all cut super thin (except for the sausage) and a little dish of sea salt.  You then cook however much as you want on the stone.  It was a lot of fun, simple and delicious.  The meat was very high quality and we just ate it with a little salt and pepper.  The wine, as always, was fantastic and we returned to our penthouse full, tired and ready for our day trip to Granada the next day.

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Wednesday was a much more relaxed day as far as “things we did” that day.

Over breakfast at Club Marbella (we went there every morning), we decided to sign up for a couple of day trips to a few of the other nearby cities.  The choices were Granada, Gibraltar, Tangiers, Seville, and Cordoba.  Of course, we wanted to go to all of them but, lacking time and money, we picked our top favorites and returned to our resort to see what was available.  After chatting with the concierge, we signed up for Granada on Friday with lunch and Gibraltar on Saturday.  We figured, since Sunday was to be our last day, we would spend that day at the beach.

That left the current day and the next, Thursday.  We still wanted to get back to El Centro to tour the castles and the catedral and the Picasso Museum, but, since the planning of the week took a long time to do, we decided that today we would do two things – seek out Plaza Mayor and, for dinner, find authentic paella and good wine.

Plaza Mayor, historically, was a sort of central meeting place for a large population of the city.  They would meet there after work, visit, catch up, tailgate (so to speak) before going their separate ways for entertainment or time with family.  To some extent, it still serves this purpose.  It’s only a few kilometers outside El Centro but serves more as a central shopping area than anything else.  Plaza Mayor is, essentially, two large outlet malls running parellel to each other with a massive parking lot in the middle.

Once we discovered this was what Plaza Mayor is now, we proceeded to get some of our souveneir and “I forgot this” and “Oh this is cute” shopping done.  We had lunch at a little tapas bar and then returned to the train station.

When we got back to the resort, Stephen headed down to the reception desk to ask where we could find a restaurant that served good paella and good red wine.  He was directed to La Mijas, a small area along the beach that has a variety of restaurants, shops and hotels.  It was there we found El Cortijillo, a small place owned by Alonso and his family.  It was there we met Beth and Paul, our new friends from Cambridge.

The food was incredible.  The wine was succulent (we ended up bringing a bottle back with us to the States).  The atmosphere was relaxed and enjoyable.  We sat out on the patio as, like every other day there, it was beautiful.  We ended up drinking a lot and talking until nearly closing time with Beth and Paul, who invited us to return on Saturday for Paul’s birthday.

The really interesting, fun thing about El Cortijillo is what came with the bill.  They have a large glass container shaped like a grape cluster with a little bronze spiggot at the bottom.  The whole thing comes probably up to my knee if it were sitting on the ground.  It is filled with a pale green liquid.  When they bring the bill, they also bring this container and half-sized shot glasses shaped like little glass beer mugs.  They proceed to fill up each glass (one for each member at the table) with the liquid and grin at you with a “salud” and leave.

A shot with your bill.  What a wonderful idea.

The liquid is called Crema de Catalan and it’s a tropical tasting alcoholic drink.  It goes down smooth and sweet with a little alcoholic after burn – but very slight.  I rather enjoyed it.

It was a wonderful night, probably one of my very favorites.

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We consider Tuesday to be the first real day of the honeymoon.  We woke up at 5am Spain time since our bodies said, “It’s only 11pm on Monday!  Get up!”

The downside to that is nothing is open that early in the morning.  The bonus was sunrise.

I am firmly convinced that the sun rising over the mountains of Spain and casting the first light on the Mediterranean Sea is one of the top ten most beautiful things in the world.  It is breathtaking, peaceful and, for us, a symbol of a new beginning.  Here we are, our first real day of our honeymoon and still in the first few days of marriage.

The morning ended up being one of those “it was funny now that we look back on it” but there was some irritation during the actual experience.

First, Stephen broke the coffee maker.  Well, we aren’t sure if it was already broken or if him plugging it in wrong and tripping the breakers in the penthouse shorted out the machine.  In any case, after resetting all the breakers and getting the lights back on (it’s a little dark at 5am), we have no coffee maker.  So we decide to use the electric teapot to brew coffee.  It worked….sort of.

By the time we had coffee made and enjoyed and were dressed, the sun was coming up so we decided to take pictures of sunrise.  Unfortunately, that’s when Stephen locked us out on the terrace.

To be fair, their terrace doors have a major difference from ours in the States – there are no outside latches or handles.  This is, I assume, to prevent theft and everyone grows up accustomed to this and either doesn’t shut the door all the way or has someone inside in case of an accidental “I locked myself out” moment.  We were neither accustomed to this nor did we leave someone inside.

We were locked outside for about 2 hours since reception didn’t open until about 8am or so.  I passed the time by promptly going back to sleep for about an hour or so while Stephen tried to flag someone down.  Eventually he did get the attention of the lady working reception and she came up to let us inside.  She was very nice, didn’t give him any flak for it, and warned us to be careful in the future.

By that time, we were starving and went to Club Marbella (mar-baya), our resort’s sister resort, for breakfast.  Stephen had a traditional English Breakfast for the first time and loved almost all of it.  The sausage was a little weird looking…good, but weird.

We made plans to head towards downtown on the train to try to see some of the major sights like the Catedral, the Picasso Museum, the castles, and a few other things.  So we hopped on the public train (which was very safe, very clean and filled with people), and rode it all the way to El Centro.

El Centro is large, bustling, crowded and beautiful.  Fountains and statues are in every roundabout, the buildings, while tall, aren’t the metropolis skyscrapers we know in the US.  And, overlooking all the modernity, is Castillo Gibralfaro, Castillo Alcazaba, and Catedral.  These three major landmarks are the beautiful, ancient reminders of Spanish history.  The influence, while largely Arabian, is infused with Greek, Roman, and Spanish and makes for a beautiful feast for the eyes.  The architecture alone is astounding; when you add the sprinkles of ancient trimmings – statues, fountains, ruins – you end up with a scene that feels like a history book come to life, and not in a cliched fashion.

When we left the major train station, a tour bus was waiting at the curb.  On a whim, we decided to be tourists and take the city tour.  So we paid our 8 euros apiece, grabbed our headphones, tuned it to English and prepped the camera.

It was worth it.

We not only got a better idea of where specific things were we wanted to see, but we learned about the history of the city, gained a new appreciation for city bus drivers, and didn’t have to worry about getting around the city and dealing with the stress of a foreign city and foreign language.  Plus we could snap pictures freely as the bus made frequent stops in front of famous landmarks.

The whole tour took about 2 hours to complete.  By that time, it was nearing dinner so we grabbed a Spanish McDonald’s in the train station while we waited for the return train and did some shopping.

When we returned to the penthouse, it was getting late so we decided to just get some beer at the convenience store on the corner and stay in for some relaxing drinks.  We perused the local television – a mix of British shows and Spanish shows – found a British cooking show and wound out the rest of the night on the couch.

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The flight from New York to Málaga is about 7.5 hours.  If you ever go, I highly recommend anything but coach class.  Don’t get me wrong, we had our own little TV’s in the back of the seat in front of us to watch free movies, play games and listen to music.  The food was actually pretty delicious.

There’s just not much in the way of leg room and, by the time you land 7.5 hours later, your knees are really aware of that fact.

We landed in Spain around 9.30am their time, which is six hours ahead of Eastern US time.  The sky out the plane’s window was the bluest blue you can imagine.  There were mountains, and, right there as we taxied down the runway, was the Mediterranean.  We could not wait to get off the plane, stretch, and take in our first few moments of Spain.

Alas, it was to be delayed seeing is how we apparently came from a “Swine Flu Country” and had to sign forms saying we weren’t sick, but we’d watch our symptoms and notify authorities if we started showing….. <signs form hurriedly and hands it to the nice lady wearing a breathing mask>

After deplaning, we were ushered to buses and bused to the actual airport terminal.  Passport check consisted of a rather bored looking gentleman in a glass booth who stamped the passport, ran it through a little machine and handed it back.  We snatched our bags from the carousel and wound our way through some airport renovations to the car rental area.

I suggested we rent a car since, at the time, we weren’t sure about the language barrier or how far apart anything was or the local public transportation.  I figured it would be easier and more convenient if we had our own wheels.  Turned out later, I was right.  That day, however…

Yes, we got lost.

Not horrifically “omg we’re in Switzerland” lost, but more like a “wow, that’s really pretty, and so is that, and that and that and I’m kinda sleepy and where’s the hotel already” lost.  We enjoyed the cruising around the windy roads for about 20 minutes.  Then we really just wanted to find the hotel and go to sleep.

After finally properly deciphering the directions from the airport, we found the resort.  It was Club Delta Mar, located about 40km from El Centro (downtown), Málaga.  The resort was beautiful.  It had put-put, two pools, a kiddie pool and a pool-side bar.  The best thing?  The Mediterranean was Right There.  We had the penthouse on the top floor of the main building overlooking the sea and it was gorgeous.

All this gorgeousness around us and what did we do?

Napped.

We did honestly try to stay awake in order to force ourselves to Spain time but it wasn’t going to happen.  We slept until the late afternoon, showered, shot a video (below) and took some pictures (below) and went out in search of food.

The food we found was in a little corner cafe in Fuengirola (fweng-heer-ola).  It was simple, rustic and good – serrano ham and olive oil on a baquette and cheap beer.   The shops were closing for the evening and people were hurrying home to out to clubs for the night.  We listened to the Spanish all around as it slowly sunk in that we were, in fact, in Spain.  The weather grew chillier as the sun set as the lack of humidity prevented any stored up warmth for the evening.

We drove around a bit a more and returned to the resort to, again, sleep as we were exhausted and still a bit out of it from the long flight and time change and just the general decompressing from the previous couple of weeks’ flurry to get everything done for the wedding.

The rest of the trip was far more eventful.

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