The Costa del Sol is an unremarkable stretch of the Mediterannean marred by an uninterrupted series of cement tower blocks, and bears no connection with the rest of Spain. Just behind the coast, the mountains are dotted with the famous Pueblos Blancos, or White Towns, as Sra. Renaud knows. (My mom is studying Spanish! Ay caramba!) As per the last post, Mijas is the town closest to the coast and hence the one inundated with tourists, but it's still a very pretty place. Weirdly as you've no doubt noticed, Somchai took this one opportunity to explore his artistic side with a sepia toned film. I'm all for the arts, but it seems counterintuitive that in a town famed for its whiteness you'd beige the whole place up, but here you are, Mijas the Pueblo Marron. Mom?

We unpacked and got drunk by the pool, which was our daily routine during the week. The pool was freezing, though, as were the showers. We figured out about halfway into the trip that we had to turn on the hot water system first, and afterwards showering and swimming were much more pleasant. We then went for a walk around our little town. Mijas is smack dab in the middle of the Costa del Sol, which has a justifiably nasty reputation. But Mijas is up in the mountains as opposed to on the massively overdeveloped coast. During the day, as you can see, it's totally swamped by daytrippers from the coastal horror, as it's the most accessible town away from the coast. So everyone comes to see the real Andalucia, but of course in doing so it just becomes an extension of where they're escaping from. But outside of the peak hours it's actually a cute town, so let's explore.

Andalucia, Spain May '01

We spent a week with some good friends at a rented villa in Mijas, in the Costa del Sol in southernmost Spain. I started my journal entries pessimistically because the trip started off with some complicated logistics. I was in London on business for a week, and flew to Paris on Friday night, staying at the airport Hyatt, which was surprisingly nice for an airport hotel. The plan was that I would meet Somchai in the Paris airport Saturday morning, then we'd both fly down to the Malaga airport, where supposedly Joe and Amy would meet us and we'd all drive to the house in Mijas, hopefully armed with some good directions. Catherine, Trish and Tracey would then find their own way to the house later that day.