Andalusian Impressions, Take Four

Still with me?  We’re just about at the end. Here, and one final, easy, sunny, slow finale in Sevilla before heading back to snowy winter at home.

Malaga. Why Malaga?  Last spring I followed a friend – a very seasoned solo traveler – as she made her way through Andalucia. She was taking three weeks, had the first two booked and posted how she might spend the third. I suggested visiting Finca Buen Vino (our first stop) and she took it from there. She spent a few days in Malaga, visited the “de rigeur” Picasso Museum, and did some other meanderings and musings. I was intrigued, found a great Air BnB (my first overseas booking and IT WAS TERRIFIC! just like the pictures and a perfect location) and took it from there.

From Granada arrived by bus. By taxi found our apartment. And then set off.  Here are glimpses into those two days. Wished it had been two more as it’s a city I loved, with its  more local, less “tourista” vibe. I day-dreamed out loud coming back to that sun-filled apartment, using it as a base to explore the Costa del Sol, the sherry town of Jerez, Cadiz, and Ronda. Hmmmmm, maybe some day…..

IV  Malaga

trade high speed train for bus, ease our way south through mountains and groves
at a pace more in rhythm with our being – from 350 km now to 80 at the most
takes more time but it’s siesta for our souls and soles

 

cabbie confers with his mates, the route to our first Air bnb
finds the street, but the number disappears
“una momento” as I scurry across before the next wave of taxis, cars and motorcycles
seeing three anonymous doorbells, I ring numero dos – una, dos, tres
seeing the woman through the open office door, peek in and ask for her help

“si, si” she is to meet us, has keys and text confirmation
cabbie gathers bags with relief
a most generous tip for his kindness, staying with and not stranding us

climb three narrow twisting stories of blinding yellow stairs
the better to see in the dark, perhaps
thinking mimosa blossoms in the dark forest hillside,
Monica murmurs apologies – “the way it is in a two hundred year old building”
door opens, shutters open, sun streams in, I see exactly the photo that captivated me on the website
“si, si, si” it’s three for three my sleeping selections so far

even better, the location was not exaggerated
within minutes we find our way to galleries, cafes, mercado and museum
this entire trip different as I make time for art
permanent collections depict a curated intention, temporary thrill with exception
late tapas lunch, a contemporary take on an old form
it, too, thrills

 

Picasso.
his birth and childhood only here and then into the bigger world
following intuition, drive and art that inspired, of forms he would create
working in mediums beyond canvas and paper – ceramic, wood, metal
each in response to a curiosity that knew no, would not be, bound

his palette fierce with audacity, courage, bravado
Duende.
his deep and utter, ruthless truth

 

from coffee and torte to sea and port
a walk along the palmed promenade brisk with sea breeze
no beach bathers here, that’s further down and later in the season
though tourists disembarked from cruise ships, baring legs, shoulders, and sockless
have me dressed in down shivering

 

last day shines sunny and blue
a final walkabout reveals artisanal creations and collaborations in ceramic and steel
the most beautiful and innovative work I’ve seen so far
glorious to behold, and that will have to do
as travelling light with little space for extras is intentional in all ways