Olive Oil:
With olive trees as far as the eye can see in every direction it occurred to me – just how much olive oil does Spain produce? 50% of the world’s olive oil and over three times as much as Italy, Greece or Tunisia. That means that one out of every two bottles of oil sold in the world contains the Spanish product! There are more than 250 million olive trees throughout the country, Andalucía grows 75% of them – mainly in the Granada, Malaga and Cordoba regions – with Jaén considered the World’s capital. It’s doubtful harvesting is done the old fashioned way any more – beating the trees with sticks to loosen the fruit into waiting nets. Now they have machines which enfold the tree with something rather like an upside down umbrella and then pneumatically vibrate the fruit loose. Still labour-intensive though. I believe some places use low-flying helicopters to shake the trees.

Hidden Entrances:
Behind every stout, no-nonsense door (or cloth curtain) along every street, lies a hidden gem . . . beautifully tiled entry ways … each using a different colour and pattern. Some go for the plain and simple look with perhaps a potted plant or two … others are more elaborate or striking in appearance, often with ornate, wrought-iron gates leading into the house instead of just wood.

All doorways also have an indispensable heavy cloth curtain. First thing in the morning, the outer doors are opened, doorsteps are swept and washed, and curtains are pulled across – the perfect answer for both ventilation and privacy, while still having a friendly, approachable attitude should the neighbours want to stop by.  Let me tell you, by the end of the first week I too was washing the front doorstep … I certainly didn’t want the local senoras tutting and rolling their eyes as they went past.

Starlings:
As dusk descends, flocks of Spotless Starlings gather to roost in the big, cloud-like pines around the square. The volume of sound is indescribable … a melodious symphony of whistles, flutes and trills … you can hear them as you drive by – with the windows up! I’d never even heard of Spotless Starlings before now, but like all starlings they are clever mimics and have a diverse repertoire. The city has wisely removed park benches from under the trees!

Iglesia del Carmen:

There are multiple churches and convents throughout Antequera, but the Church of Carmen is a particularly lovely one.  Not much to look at on the outside … inside there are the usual niches decorated in gold, commemorating various saints, however it is the intricately carved nave and altar that are quite remarkable. 

The Museum of the city of Antequera was a hidden gem.  Spread over three floors it contained a staggering display of the history of the area — this stuff is truly UNESCO quality.  Pottery, frescos, jewellry, paintings, grave sites.  Completely unexpected.

La Comida:

Before leaving Antequera we knew we’d have to visit two places. One we had walked past so many times … Cafe Baraka . . . tables and chairs under the spreading shade of an unknown tree across the street. Food is dashed across from the kitchen by nimble-footed servers. We had a very civilized late lunch, watching the world go by . . . a dish of green olives and two small cervesas to start, followed by sizzlingly hot lagostinas (large prawns) in spicy olive oil with bread for dipping. Oh my!

Our last evening was saved for Meson Adarve (if you Google Meson Adarve, Antequera, and then click on the ‘menu’ there are photos of the food) … a family-run restaurant. Only a handful of tables, so reservations were a must. We stopped by that afternoon to inquire … there was an intake of breath and pursing of lips as Juan contemplated his phone and counted that night’s bookings. A pause, and then “Sí, una mesa para dos” … YES, we were in for 8:30.

We walked through the busy, lit streets for the last time … dodging scooters and stepping into doorways to avoid cars. There were no menus … all dishes were written on blackboards on the walls … verduras (vegetables), carnes (meats) and pescados (fish). We settled on a mango and prawn salad with Rabos de toro (oxtail stew) to follow. The local mangos are something special – perhaps it’s because they are allowed to ripen on the trees, or the flavour is different, whatever the case, these were exceptional … and in combination with the prawns, mix of greens and subtle dressing – this was a dish NOT to be missed. Then the Rabo … slowly cooked for hours till it was fall-off-the-bone tender in its own gravy … served with the traditional crisply golden potato chips. Thank goodness there was bread for mopping … it would be a sin to miss any of that sauce.

There was no room for dessert … not even a shared cheesecake … but the son brought us tiny glasses of chilled licor de limón as a digestif. Very pleasant. A message from the restaurant states that nothing is ultraprocessed or precooked – here you eat as God gave/provided.

For some glorious photos of places round Antequera do have a look at this site:

Guide To Antequera, Best Things To Do In The “Florence of Andalusia”

There’s a lovely hiking trail in the hills overlooking Antequera – almost four kilometers of relatively flat, rock-strewn sandy path. It meanders its way past the remains of 17 Roman Arquillas – a system which carried water into town, while providing stunning views over the town and Peña de los Enamorados one way … tree-covered hills, farms and a

golf course (!) the other. The brilliant green of the fairways look totally out of place in an otherwise arid-looking landscape, but at least they have built two large reservoirs/rain catchment areas for watering the grass. The morning’s cloudburst must have done wonders in replenishing them. There were still a couple of puddles along the trail, but the sandy soil had sucked up the moisture almost immediately. Curious patches of black, polka-dot holes edged the path every few steps … a closer look revealed busy colonies of ants, industriously clearing out their underground tunnels after the deluge. No anthills visible … just a scattering of small, black holes like openings in a pepperpot. Careful where you stand when taking photos – the much larger guard ants had particularly large pincers … and held them aloft, menacingly!

Further along, a glossy black beetle – totally impervious to the ant currently investigating its leg – trundled along like an armoured tank.  Is that …? Yes … it IS a dung beetle!  We used to see lots of them in the dunes along the coast, rolling balls of dung three or four times their size … the spheres looking for all the world like sugar=coated chocolate truffles!  Occasionally, they’d lose control of their prize, and have to cling on tightly as they both rolled to the bottom of the dip … necessitating another uphill climb.  Well, there was plenty of ‘dung’ at the beginning of the trail — it seems people bring their BIG dogs up here for walks!  Great video:    https://youtu.be/I1RHmSm36aE

At the end of the trail is a former convent – now turned posh hotel and restaurant – Hotel Magdalena. And what a glorious locale. Gardens filled with banks of flowering rosemary – smelling wonderfully resinous when brushed against. Mauve and Magenta bougainvillea draped – oh so casually – over rock walls, bushes of pink and white Oleander lined the driveway, olive trees laden with ripening bright green olives and the distant valleys and smoke-gray mountains provided the perfect backdrop.

A twenty minute walk from where we’re staying, and just on the edge of town, are two of the Dolmens. Ancient underground monuments – the earliest dating back 5000-6000 years and consisting of gigantic slabs making up the walls and roof. The cut edges are remarkably precise and It’s hard to imagine how those massive roof slabs could be moved into place. It was only after visiting the Antequera museum that we found out the secret … they lay the roof pieces on the ground first and then excavated the cavern underneath … reinforcing with vertical pillars as

they went. Very clever. https://www.andalucia.org/en/antequera-cultural-tourism-dolmen-de-menga These two dolmens are aligned in some way with the mountain La Peña Enamorada – especially during the summer and winter solstices . . . there is a large sundial for just this purpose.

At the interpretation centre, a photo panorama took up an entire wall, however two middle-aged couples hogged the whole display. Pictures were taken of one wife … facing this way … then the other … with arms outstretched … standing in the centre. Repeated with the other wife . . . then one couple together . . . and t’other. ARGHHHH . . . how many photos of this were they actually going to look at when they got home!! People walked out in disgust, but it didn’t make any impression with these four. We left them to it and enjoyed the monuments.

The Roman era Dolman is considerably younger – a mere 2,000 years old, and set some distance away from the others. The construction is vastly different though – small clay bricks create the entrance tunnel and circular, domed roof. Significantly easier to construct, I would imagine.

Los Lobos Park sits at the foot of El Torcal. https://www.lobopark.com/ Only open from Thursday to

Sunday, the tours have to be booked ahead and each is just over an hour long. The co-owner, Daniel, worked for many years studying dogs and training them for police and military services, but about 20 years ago he became interested in creating a specialized park where Tundra, Timber and the endangered Iberian wolves could establish packs and live out their lives in as normal a setting as possible. Iberian wolves have been hunted to extinction here in Andalucia and only exist in the wild in northern Spain. The park has accepted wolves from zoos all over the EU . . . in fact a new female Tundra wolf had just arrived . . . and two more were in transit from the Ukraine – stuck in Madrid due to red tape bureaucracy. Once wolves reach adolescence at about two and a half, if they are not already in a pack, they cannot be introduced, or re-introduced to one … a new pack would have to be established. . . sometimes just females or in one case ‘the bachelor brothers’.

The park also takes in other abandoned or homeless critters like pot-bellied pigs, goats and chickens.

The current 28 wolves are comfortable with humans around their (huge) enclosures, but are in no way tamed.  The original pups were hand reared by Daniel, but once they were adults and had formed a pack he stepped back and left them to do what wolves do in the wild.  One of the guests asked if they ever howled … and Daniel obliged by walking over to the bachelor enclosure, and howled … the five wolves inside rushed up and howled along … pretty soon there were responses from all over the acreage.  Enough to give you goosebumps.

Jabbing a finger on the map and then taking whatever road led to a tiny village is pretty much guaranteed to delight every sense. Not far from Antequera is Archidona –  famous for its international film festival which has promoted cultural diversity since 2004.  The town has an unusual and striking octagonal plaza, part of which was being used as an outdoor cafe.  An enormous edifice which used to be a library but now houses the high school sat squarely in the middle of town.  There is a plaque on the wall that mentions the famous poet Miguel Cervantes and commemorates the 400th anniversary of the publication of Don Quixote. Interestingly, Cervantes conducted his own ‘Quixotic’ journey around Andalucia … but as a tax collector for the government!

La Joya a track takes you up, way up to the Hotel la Fuente del Sol with commanding views of the valley far below.  It’s a four star hotel and restaurant out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by glorious and immaculate gardens … and a flock of turkeys wandering happily through the bushes … gobbling conversationally as we approached.  A señora was just getting into her car and explained that they were closed for the next two days – probably the usual Monday/Tuesday closing. But she urged us to come back and try the excelente locally grown and prepared regional food.  

On another outing a double archway framed the entrance to the village of Moclinejo high on its mountain perch. A photographer’s dream, as literally every house, window, garden, and set of stairs cried out to have its photo taken.  By now we were reasonably adept at squeezing down cramped, cobblestone passages, but not here I’m afraid – we’d met our match. Around one corner there was a sudden intake of breath as we met an oncoming car on a steep, inclined hill, and no easy way of backing up.  Obviously the other driver was local and probably well used to incompetent tourists visiting his town . . . he graciously backed up into a corner the size of a postage stamp, and waited for us to pass.  Best thing was to park and walk … so we did.  Past the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Gracia with a cat sunning itself outside – blue pots bright against the dazzling white walls … a window crammed full of plants and succulents … colourfully tiled stairs leading to doorways draped in wisteria, hibiscus and bougainvillea.  Near a lookout stood a carved wooden statue to Pablo Benthem Martín-Alonso, 1966-2019 who appeared to be an adoptive son of the village … and someone who seemed to have done practically everything – adventurer, diver, member of an expedition traveling through north and south Africa by autogyro – as an homage to its inventor, Juan de la Cierva.  Pablo became involved in the history and traditions of the village, and as such this memorial was created in his honor.  I just love the last words of the plaque … “above all, there are always your neighbours, your family, so that where you are in the sky, the soft breezes and wind will tuck you (hold you/protect you?) in every flight”.  This was worthy of further investigation so here (if you click on the English translation, upper right) you can read a bit more about this adventurer. https://www.laopiniondemalaga.es/municipios/2019/02/25/moclinejo-declara-dia-luto-muerte-27828997.html

On our way back to the car, a clip-clop of hooves materialized into a young lad leading four burros down the road towards us. The two older ones were haltered, but the two youngsters trotted along behind.  I called out asking if I could take their photo . . . and as they came level the two young ones slowed and eagerly approached, ears perked . . . however they were quickly “hushed” and “clicked” back in line to continue their journey.  There was a clatter and buck of hooves in protest, before they all disappeared round the corner.

Another stop El Borge …  even more dizzying views below … and another distinctive archway into town. The cobblestone patterns and designs differ from one place to another, too. Rounding the church, we found ourselves in an open plaza with what looked like a flight of stairs in front and a wall to the right.  As we pondered the situation a jovial señor detached himself from his compañeros at the outdoor cafe and approached with a grin.  No doubt we were not the first to encounter this conundrum.  We gleaned enough to figure  that the road did in fact continue beyond the wall – with equally good views, apparently … or if preferred we could go back out the way we came.  Of course an animated but good-natured discussion ensued as all the cafe patrons weighed in over the pros and cons of which way was best – lots of friendly jibes and laughter.  In the end, we parked the car and after an amble around town, returned to the plaza for tea.  

An elderly señor sat on a bench beside the entrance, hands clasped atop his cane – no doubt his usual spot.  We nodded and wished him buenas tardes …  he replied with a tooth-challenged smile. In our best Spanish we began to order at the counter, but the owner was having none of it.  She wanted to show off her English … and to be honest it far exceeded our attempts.  She insisted we try her blueberry cheesecake . . . or even better the carrot cake . . .. no, no, by far the best was the chocolate everything (she struggled to find the right words) “chocolate to die from!” she exclaimed triumphantly.  And was probably right – calorie-wise. 

A game of dominoes at a nearby table had just ended and there was a loud clackety-clack as the tiles were vigorously shuffled.  As is customary here,  tea is drunk from small glasses – often with hot water and tea bag on the side.  If milk is required it is usually heated and brought in a small metal jug.  However this time there were tiny teapots in which to steep the tea . . . but the piece de resistance was the cheesecake … light and creamy with a layer of tangy pureed fruit jelly, fresh blueberries, swirls of whipped cream and wafers on the top. Decadent, sinful but deliciously wonderful.  Every mouthful was savoured in its entirety.  The server confided to us that it was only his second day on the job, and that the owner was actually his ex wife.  And that’s Vale? (OK) we asked, a bit hesitantly. He quite cheerfully replied it was perfectly fine.  We’d now had dessert … but I don’t think we’ll be needing much dinner tonight.  As we got up to leave, the owner reminded us to come back and try the ‘chocolate bomb’ … and everyone at the nearby table called out adios or viaja con cuidado (travel carefully).  Quite often in small towns there’s a certain ‘reserve’ around strangers – at least until overtures have been made . . . but not here.  They were openly welcoming from the get go. 

On the trip home, there was the damp, earthy smell of rain in the air … although it didn’t amount to much.  Just a few sprinkles.  It took an age to loop our way down into the valley. All the mountainsides are tightly terraced – with slopes of 45 degrees, or more and cultivated with either citrus or mango trees.  Some terraces have horizontal sheets of  galvanized corrugated metal as retaining walls, and it’s quite something to see the rows of glinting silver all the way down. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable  and difficult it would be to work on these steeply angled fields.  As we neared Antequera the cap of clouds lifted just enough to let the sun peek under and give everything a golden glow.

The caves at Nerja came highly recommended as a place NOT to miss (thank you Sue) so, rather than taking the usual A45 highway into Malaga, we plotted a back route via the 7204 and A356 through the hills, villages and valleys … past hillsides draped in the ever-present olive trees, their shadows in the morning sun making them look like knobbly green bedspreads …  and down into Vélez-Málaga before connecting with the N340 along the coast.  A much more scenic route … and it avoided busy Malaga.  The area around Vélez-Málaga is ALL citrus trees … nary an olive to be seen.  

We’d packed sandwiches for lunch, planning to find a park or a vacant bit of beach to eat them – no such luck. Nerja is an attractive but holiday-based town, and busy – so not many parking places anywhere near the waterfront.  We did, however, find a very pleasant tree-lined gravel parking lot on one of the side streets, and munched our food in the shade while birds chirped in the branches above.  

Taking the coast road, the caves were just 5 minutes north in Maro, and we almost had the place to ourselves. https://www.visit-andalucia.com/guide-to-nerja-caves/   Discovered in 1959 by some teenagers looking for bats while on an evening hike, these caves are jaw-droppingly awesome and I defy anyone to find an adequate description.  We stood as insignificant tiny dots in the hushed, dimly lit vastness of a cavern that dwarfed most cathedrals … the staggering number, size and GIRTH of the calcified stalactites and stalagmites … and sometimes you don’t know which because they meet and reach floor to roof.  Solid limestone waterfalls … pillars … arches … chandeliers …spires … all frozen in eons of time.  Surely Gaudi must have visited such a place to gain inspiration for his Sagrada Familia . . . the resemblances are remarkable. However this cave was discovered much later than Gaudi’s time. It is reputed to contain the largest stalactite in the world.  If you get a chance, DO visit.

A little north of the pretty and unspoiled pueblo of Maro, a cliff road wound down to a protected sandy cove.  We joined the line of parked cars parked along the steep verge and ambled down. It was longer and steeper than it looked.   A sprinkling of people lounged on rented sunbeds under grass umbrellas, or had brought their own sunshades and beach blankets . . .  there were a few colourful kayaks for rent . . . kids were swimming, and an occasional snorkeler drifted by.  This was far removed from the noise and bustle of more popular Costa beaches.  We sat in the shade and enjoyed the ambiance for a couple of hours.  Glen, feeling the need to at least paddle his toes in the Mediterranean, rolled up his shorts a bit and cautiously padded over the hot, pebbly sand.  All was fine, until a slightly larger wave rose higher than expected and soaked the lower half of his shorts.  Nothing a walk along the beach and a lounge in the sun couldn’t handle. 

We thought we had found yet another way home via back roads . . .  it certainly was scenic, but it meandered further and further from the direction we wanted . . .  then the gas gauge took a sudden plunge and the warning light came on.  Hmmm … didn’t we we pass a gas station back there a bit?  It had looked closed and deserted – an Agri-coop … wonder if that means it only has farm gasoline? …  but no – there was the sign for gasolina 95 sin plomo.  This, however, was quite unlike any usual gas/petrol station . . . consisting of a shiny metal cubical with pump-handles both sides, and completely automated – you paid ahead using a computerized screen (thankfully, language of choice could be selected) . . .  AND it was about €0.15/litre cheaper than in town.

We ended up going back the way we came, but this time were able to get a better view of the dam and reservoir – Embalse de la Viñuela … this is the first time we’ve seen the extent of the drought this summer.  Levels in the reservoir resemble those in California with ‘tide marks’ getting progressively lower and lower … the pumps now  barely reaching  what’s left of the lake.  We’d just driven past lots for sale … advertising water-front property … that now isn’t.  It’s sad to see, but a relief that the olives and orange trees are thriving though.

We’re off to Malaga!  It’s National Day in Spain – a contentious subject in some parts as this is the day Christopher Columbus (Cristóbal Colón) ‘discovered’ the Americas.  Known in some places as Columbus Day, others have changed it to reflect a more inclusive or indigenous nature.  Mostly, people are just glad of a holiday.

The modern downtown area was avoided with surprising ease – and we drove along the waterfront on wide boulevards to the old section.  Cool shaded parks, meandering walkways, playgrounds, fountains and statues were there for people to enjoy.  Two cruise ships were docked … one smaller, one huge.  Not a lot of passengers immediately visible.

There was a parking lot right beside the Alcazaba – how handy is that?  After a couple of futile tours around the first parking level… with cars stalking returning pedestrians, or disgorging all passengers before attempting impossibly tight parking maneuvers into the skinniest of spots . . . we descended a floor.  Why … there’s tons of empty spots down here … we’re spoiled for choice!

Two cups of dense hot chocolate and a plate of piping hot, freshly cooked churros were the perfect energy snack.  The churros were excellent dipped in chocolate or sprinkled with sugar (however my favourite’s still with sugar).

The Roman amphitheater is a mere two minute walk across the road and through crowded plaza lined with overflowing food establishments and hawkers selling the usual hats, trinkets and paintings.  Online, you can see tickets for the Roman ruins being sold for 30 euros . . . but one can walk past and view all you like, for free!

We splurged, and got seniors passes for both the Alcazaba and the Castillo de Gibralfaro .. a bargain at 2.5 euros each.  Then we walked up through the slippery, well-worn cobblestones, through a Moorish arch and into a rocky walled garden dripping with palm trees, cactus, philodendrons – with leaves the size of umbrellas.  This Alcazaba felt warm, intimate and inviting … quite different from the one in Cordoba.  Around every corner and archway – surprise gardens, mosaic-tiled ceilings, reflective pools, a restful bench.

Then for a change, we followed the busy thoroughfare past the distinctive building which years ago had been a hotel we stayed in (now a bank and private apartments) – there’s a statue of Hans Christian Anderson outside.

Crossing the road, it was a relief to enter the cool interior of the park. Here families or couples strolled enjoying a leisurely afternoon … a kiosk with roasting chestnuts . . . musicians serenading.  One in particular – a saxophonist –  halted us in our tracks with a glorious and haunting rendition of an Andrea Bocelli piece — Con te Partiro.  Soon he had an appreciative audience who spontaneously applauded and cheered as he finished – and contributing to his earnings in the process.

There was a rude awakening along the harbour front however.  An onslaught of commercialism … Burger King, McDonalds, Hard Rock Cafe, Duncan Donuts . . . expensive shoe and handbag stores . . . restaurants packed cheek by jowl – beckoning you to ‘try a taste of Spain’ … ‘Authentic Paella’ … ‘Tapas, only one  euro’ (crisps/potato chips on a plate – I kid you not!).  The lighthouse was worth a picture, but we hot-footed it back to the serenity of the park.

Roasted almonds in paper cones – the cart owner was chatting to a friend, but keeping a wary eye on the wily pigeons who edged ever closer.  Suddenly, with a roar and great flapping of arms he dispersed the flock . . .  but only temporarily.  They gradually melted back.  And who could blame them – the roasted almonds were delicious.  Different in shape and flavour from those in California.  Flatter, more rounded.

We could put off the hill climb no longer. Thankfully, a couple of weeks training on Antequera’s streets have prepared us, but it was still a haul to the top.  Worth it for the magnificent views though. The whole of Malaga lay spread out before you like a map . . .  the bull ring … harbour … lighthouse… city … and coastline. Afterwards, a cup of tea under the wisteria pergola didn’t go amiss

Neither of us felt like going out for dinner when we got home … so we raided the fridge and constructed a kitchen sink omelet … bursting with onions, peppers, tomatoes, chunks of local chorizo and topped with Manchego cheese.  One of these days we will have to find a place that does a really good, authentic paella.  I made a version of one the other day with saffron from Malaga – not bad … and even better as leftovers with added prawns.  But we still want to try the real thing.