Up early, fully rested after a good sleep last night, then down for breakfast which is included in our room price. That's nice as it is not the continental breakfast that often appears but is instead a full hot breakfast as well, including eggs and ham, beans, etc - the whole English Breakfast thing.
After breakfast, a long hike up the beach heading east. About two hours walking away from the hotel, almost as long walking back. Stopping for many pictures and short stops on the benches that line the walkway, to chat and people-watch.
Jan and I are the youngsters here, almost nobody younger than us except a couple of locals that work here. The accents are about 75% English, 15% German, 10% Spanish, this 'Costa Del Sol' is the warmest place in Europe just now and it is evidently snowing in England as I write this, so those who can will make the trip south.
Notes from our day:
The car is parked safely in the Hotel parking lot and will stay there with Hal turned off till we are ready to leave. The car is wonderful, and so convenient, but when we have a desination like this we hike around rather than drive, when possible.
As we walked along the beach we noticed a fishing boat hauled up on the sand above the water line, and a crowd of people. We joined and Jan saw that it was indeed a fisherman and his boat, and his morning's catch which was on sale. His haul included an octopus, still alive, and he was haggling with a local restauranteur as to price. After debating hotly, the fisherman gesturing with the wriggling octopus in his hand, the two settled and the restauranteur made off with his prize. No doubt to be part of some lucky soul's Paella by nightfall, or fish stew. I've resolved not to eat seafood for the rest of this trip.
Jan has included a picture of two ladies dancing, by Picasso, just off the beach walk about an hour from here. He was born about nine kilometers from here in Malaga, just a bit east, but the locals claim him as their own.
Local artists continue to flourish here, including Sand Castle Carvers. In our walk, we passed about a half-dozen of these very elaborate carvings (shapings?) on the sand just by the beach walk. These modern-day Michelangelos vary in talent, of course, the bad ones being remarkably lousy but the good ones are incredibly creative and talented. And, since artists must eat too, they all have their collection plates out front and a note saying that donations are welcome. These are permanent sites it seems, covered with plastic at night as protection against rain and dew. Some are works in progress, the artist at work with his shovel and spray-bottle of water and sclupting trowel. Some are not, they are very completed with the sand even painted as a finishing touch. Here, the artists are more active in soliciting donations.
A very common entertainment along the walk are the people whose significant talent in life is to do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Stand perfectly still, just stand there. Doing nothing. They get dressed up in the most incredible costumes looking for all the world like a statue fully painted up. Then freeze, dead still. We saw some, walked toward them, passed them, looked back at them, no motion. But they are alive, its creepy. They have a collection bowl out front of them, of course, that's how you can tell that they are a 'performer' rather than a sculpture.
We saw one on our way out on the walk, completely in white like a marble statue, wrapped in a robe in the Roman fashion, only his eyes betraying his humanity. Everything else white, and as still as carved marble, caked in what might have been white paint, or whitewash, or even plaster of paris like a cast, frozen still as in the rigors of death. Coming back, he was apart, off his pedistal and sitting on a chair, smoking a cigarette and chatting with a shopkeeper in the booth across from his 'stand'. Same white covering, clearly fexible now and not solid like plaster, a kind of heavy theatrical makeup I guess. And I thought, How do they do it? He was clearly a smoker with all those cravings, the makeup must itch, bugs must bite, maybe dogs pee on him, how can he ignore all those urges? Least of all the urge to lash out at those who deride him. They don't, somehow, but lordy that's a hard way to make a buck.
There are a lot of cats around here, cute little guys, we have a lot of pictures but the only one that made it onto this page is one that is curled up asleep in a rock formation in a point of land that the beach walk passes by. The cat was sleeping soundly in a little depression in the rock, and it reminded me of a card I saw once on a co-worker's desk, this one a kitten in a teacup, that said 'If you are at peace with yourself, anywhere is home'. True even for Jan and I, on the road.
One of the many very thoughtful trip-oriented Christmas gifts was a flexible tripod for our cameras. We use it constantly for shots of Jan and I together, and for distance shots using a telephoto setting to keep the camera steady. We hang it from almost anything, as you can see in Jan's pictures on this page.
Dinner out tonight at a Hungarian restaurant. It was a slow night for the servers, so Jan and I chatted to a young lady who was from Budapest and she told us all about her home. We must go there if we can, it sounded lovely. After a great dinner, with just a bit too much wine, home to bed.
