Just back from a wonderful week’s holiday in Spain, and in the true spirit of the Fodors boards, thought I’d share our experiences with you all. Hope this too long and I don’t waffle too much!

Firstly, some background info. My husband Neil & I are in our late 20’s and live in London. Over the past couple of years we have travelled to Thailand, Brazil and New York, but this summer chose to stay closer to home and holiday in Europe so decided to base ourselves in Las Alpujarras. The region is about 1 hour south of Granada and tourism there is very low key (certainly compared to the nearby Costa del Sol). It seemed ideally suited to what we were after; peace & quiet, stunning scenery and a taste of the ‘real’ Spain; plenty to keep us busy by exploring on foot and for Neil to indulge his love of photography. Before the trip, I also read Chris Stewart’s very entertaining books about living in the area (Driving Over Lemons is the first instalment, and I’d highly recommend it).

Day 1
A very encouraging start! 2 weeks before we set off, the major security alert and accompanying arrests had taken place so we were bracing ourselves for airport chaos (especially as it was the start of a bank holiday weekend in the UK). However within 1 hour 15 minutes of leaving home, we had got to Gatwick airport, parked, checked in and passed through security (which was still very stringent – understandably). It was still early morning, but we had expected to be queuing for ages.

Our flight to Malaga with Monarch scheduled was uneventful. Well, unless you count the 2 women behind us and their ‘inflight entertainment’. They were on their way to a Hen (Bachelorette) Party in Puerto Banus and despite it only being 9.30am, it sounded like they’d been in the airport bar for some time and during the course of the flight they switched between singing (loudly) along to their iPods and moaning (loudly…again) about their husbands and kids. Nice.

Anyway, on landing, our adventure began. Throughout the trip, Neil & I would have very defined roles. Brimming with linguistic confidence (I got an A in GCSE Spanish 13 years ago and was in possession of a new phrasebook), I was designated official communicator and translator. Neil was to be the driver, whilst I navigated (or aggravated, depending on who you listen to!). We picked up our hire care (booked through www.malagacarhire.com ; 129 Euros for the week, and good service) and promptly met our first challenge – trying to pull out on the busy roundabout outside the depot! It should be noted at this point the limit of our previous overseas driving experiences. Barring a couple of previous day trip forays on empty roads in sleepy Greek and Thai islands, this was our first encounter with foreign city driving and in particular, motorways. Neil managed admirably (aided and abetted by my superb map reading of course!) and in no time we were on our way. The drive from Malaga to Orgiva took about 2.5 hours, although if you were more familiar with the route, it would probably be less. We had been given directions to the casita by the lovely Tina who owned the property, and these were perfect – we didn’t go wrong once and part of the drive inland took us through a gorge; superb scenery. We finally arrived there at about 4pm and were delighted with what we found.

Tina’s property is called Buenavista (www.buenavistaspain.com ), and the name really does it justice – there are great views. The casita is in the beautiful grounds of her house, and there is a lovely pool for cooling off too. Inside, it’s nicely decorated with local ceramics and pictures, there’s a wood burning stove for winter, and a private terrace with BBQ looking down onto an olive grove. Tina has thought of everything people need for a self catering holiday. The kitchen is very well equipped (right down to a juicer and coffee maker), and in the living room there are books, board games and a whole host of local guides, maps, walking routes etc, as well as a DVD player and UK satellite TV for those odd times you find yourself inside. We were there in high summer, but I can imagine that during winter, Buenavista is cosy and comfortable (especially in front of that log burner!). Throughout our stay, Tina was a constant source of excellent local information; restaurant recommendations, good places to shop for provisions, places to visit etc. She’s incredibly hospitable and made us feel very at home throughout our stay.

After the long journey, we unpacked quickly and had a dip in the pool before our first excursion into Orgiva (about 2kms away) to stock up on provisions; the first major test of my rusty Spanish! I love mooching around foreign supermarkets and the Alpujarra Store was no exception. It’s about the size of a convenience store in the UK, and packed with all sorts of goodies. We didn’t really feel like cooking on our first night, and thought we’d get some salads, bread, olives, cold meats and cheese (not to mention a couple of cold beers and some red wine to wash it down!). The supermarket had a great deli counter and with my bungling Spanish, I somehow managed successfully to procure some spicy chorizo, locally cured ham (part of the staple diet in the area as we would soon learn) and strong cheese. My next linguistic transaction (for lettuce and tomatoes) was equally productive and we took our ‘picnic’ back to the ranch to snack on the terrace. The first cold beers of the holiday were cracked open and before heading to bed, we planned some of things we would do over the next few days; walks in the valleys higher up in Las Alpujarras and a trip to the Alhambra.

Day 2 to follow...

Great start so far. Easy to read. Waiting for the next installment.

Day 2

We slept very well and woke up refreshed. Opening the doors onto the terrace from the bedroom, we were greeted by bright sunshine and a cloudless sky – a world away from the rain we had left behind in England. For our first full day in Spain we decided we would start with some R&R time by the pool. The grounds of Buenavista are so peaceful and it is the perfect place to relax. All you can hear is the wind rustling the trees overhead, and the odd cricket chirping away. There can’t be many pools with such a spectacular view, and from my inflatable lilo, I could see palm trees in Tina’s garden in the foreground with a backdrop of mountains beyond. Apparently they are snowcapped up until as late as June, and I’d love to return to see it at different times of the year.

After a light lunch, we jumped in the car and drove further up into the hills to explore a little of the Poqueira Valley. We would be going on the first of our long walks there the next day, so I suppose this was a kind of ‘reconnaisance’ mission. Yet again my excellent map reading (modest, aren’t I?!) and Neil’s nerves of steel for driving on twisting mountain roads meant we got there without a hitch. The valley has 3 picturesque villages; Pampaneira is the lowest, followed by Bubion, and then Capileira is the highest. Each is perched perilously on the hillside, and characterised by the white buildings and churches which stand out. We drove through the lower villages and parked in Capileira to have a wander round. It is incredibly pretty; and with only one main road through the village, the houses are built along narrow and steep, cobbled alleys, sometimes with an irrigation channel running right down the middle. The houses all looked freshly whitewashed, and there were splashes of colour everywhere as families had hung colourful ceramic pots filled with bright flowers from walls and balconies, we often saw bunches of red peppers hung out to dry in the sun too.

There were a few tourists around, but apart from a smattering of Brits & Germans, they seemed mainly to be Spaniards; perhaps on day trips from Granada or the coastal towns. Many of the shops were shut for the siesta, but a handful of craft shops were open, and I’m never one to pass up the chance to buy a souvenir. Perhaps I should own up now about our embarrassing collection of fridge magnets. Wherever Neil & I go, we always try to bring back a magnet. The rules are simple; the magnet must say where it’s from and it must be in the worst taste possible. Our fridge freezer is rapidly running out of space however, and we may have to start to colonise the microwave soon. Luckily for us, the good shopkeepers of the Poqueira Valley have realised that there is money to be made in magnets and we were able to purchase an excellent specimen from Capileira.

We drove back towards Orgiva to shop again as it was Saturday and the shops would be shut the following day. We were going to eat out that night, but BBQ on Sunday evening, so out came the phrase book again to locate charcoal and other al fresco dining paraphernalia.

Later that evening, we walked the few hundred yards from Buenavista to one of
Local campsites where there was also a restaurant and bar. Tina had mentioned that the food was good there but recently it had been noted that there were a lot of British ‘hippy’ types who frequented it. Intrigued by this, we set off.

We arrived in time to sit on the terrace and enjoy a drink whilst watching a spectacular sunset. This was also our first introduction to one of the most enjoyable aspects of eating and drinking in Spain; tapas. In almost every place we went to, a lovely plate of nibbles arrived with each drink, ranging from a simple dish of marinated olives, to slices of ham and bread (that great local ham again), Spanish tortilla, fish, meatballs, etc. Every plateful was fresh, delicious and different.

At the campsite however, alarm bells were beginning to ring when we saw people setting up for what looked like a karaoke evening. I had visions of the calm mountain peace being shattered by the strangled sounds of a drunk backpacker trying to replicate Abba, but it was not quite to be. We had inadvertently stumbled upon a local ‘open mic’ talent night. As the terrace filled up, we decided to stay and eat, and see what talent emerged. Would we live to regret it?! We certainly didn’t regret dinner - it was delicious, Pork loin for me and pinchitas (marinated and skewered pork) for Neil. Not ham this time, but still more pork products! Then we settled back with a glass of wine to see what the evening’s entertainment would hold.

First up, was undoubtedly the funniest act; a group of Spanish children singing to a backing tape. The eldest girl amongst them must have been about 14, and had a beautiful voice, it was obviously a song she’d had been practicing for some time and she performed brilliantly. Unfortunately for her, her backing singers weren’t so hot. The remaining group of 4 -10 year olds only joined in with her at the chorus, but were of the belief that the closer they were to the microphone and the louder they shouted, the better they would sound. Melodic they weren’t, but definitely funny.

A lot of the audience (and most of the participants) were without doubt the ‘British Hippies’ Tina had referred to. They weren’t in Orgiva on holiday, but lived there, many of them for years. Apparently the town has long attracted Europeans seeking an alternative lifestyle (there is a Buddhist retreat nearby for example) and I suppose the way in which I’d describe a lot of the non-Spaniards in Orgiva is “New Age Traveller”. Some of them made up the next acts; mainly singing good cover versions accompanied by acoustic guitar, but there was the odd recital of ‘challenging’ poetry as well.

It was a fun night, and after a while we weaved our way back up the hill in the dark to Buenavista. For future nocturnal excursions, we thought it probably might be wise to take a torch...

Day 3 next.

Thank you grosenb. Here's day 3:

We were up early to undertake our first walk of the trip. Perhaps the copious amounts of red wine the night before at the campsite weren’t really the best preparation to climb hills in 30 degree heat, but hey ho. We drive to Capileira, which was quiet as it was so early on a Sunday; the only activity was at the local cafes beginning to open up.

Tina had thoughtfully provided some laminated maps and directions for walks in the Poqueira Valley and we had chosen to start off with one of the simpler looking ones whilst we got the ‘lay of the land’. The directions and maps were copywrite of one Elma Thompson who had written & drawn them in 2000. This being 6 years down the line, I did have some minor concerns as to how they may have stood the passage of time, and with good reason. Our first itinerary fell at the first hurdle when the path Ms Thompson had described, now appeared to be a building site. Capileira is not a big village, but try as we might, it appeared to have changed a fair amount since the maps had been drawn. Sadly, we had to abandon that route, and chose to follow another which was less reliant on changeable landmarks, and followed long established footpaths. This proved to be much more successful, but still not completely without incident.

We left the village at it’s lowest point. Even finding that was quite an adventure – the steep cobbled streets/alleys being quite a maze in themselves! Eventually, we found ourselves on a steep downhill path towards Bubion, the next village down the valley. The views were fantastic, and as we walked down the steep path we passed a lots of fruit trees and a smallholding. I was glad of my new hiking boots, as at times we were walking through streams and the path was very rocky in places. All was going superbly for an hour or so, and Ms Thompson’s directions were spot on, but then it all went wrong. Our guide had written that at a certain point where there was a signpost where we needed to turn left; so we did. Then the trail started to grow cold, instead of the path “descending steadily through the trees, passing a ruined cortijo (farmhouse) and crossing a small stone bridge” we found ourselves in the thick of a patch of wild blackberries on the edge of a precipice. Sounds all very nice perhaps, but don’t forget that blackberry bushes have thorns; many of which were swiftly embedded in my thigh. It was clear that none of this related to Elma’s original directions, and nothing in the vicinity looked like it fitted the bill either. We re-traced our steps back to the signpost and took one of the other turnings instead – this time ending up in a thicket of blackcurrant bushes. Anyone who has ever tried to get Ribena stains out of clothing will sympathise with our concern at wading through there knowing that we only had a small tube of travel wash back at the ranch. This path led through into a terraced field with no discernible exit. Oh what we would have given to see the “small stone bridge” at that point; it was getting hot and had taken us ages to walk just a small section of the journey. The red wine headache from the night before wasn’t helping either. In the end, we decided to retrace a second time back to that signpost, take the short detour it led to from our proposed route and then go back the way we had come. Shortly after taking that turning however, it soon became obvious that we should have been walking down there all along! In the intervening 6 years, someone had erected an extra sign along Ms Thompson’s original route, and it had completely thrown us off course! Still, we did eventually make it into Bubion (oh the cheers upon reaching the stone bridge!) and back up to Capileira, perhaps a little more frazzled than anticipated, but nonetheless feeling satisfied we had done the walk. Back at the top, we had lunch in the small square at Capileira (I think the place was called El Castano). A well deserved cold beer went down a treat and was accompanied by yet more yummy tapas, followed by sweet stuffed onions for Neil, and peppers with prawns and cod for me. Lovely food – and a little different to the normal menu items in the area, but still a bargain at 25 Euros for 2 beers, a bottle of water, 2 mains and of course the tapas.

After such a strenuous day, it was back to base to cool off in the pool and catch up on our reading. That evening we cooked a simple BBQ of pork skewers and marinated chicken with salad and bread. Oh yes, and a drop of red wine of course. We slept well that night...

Day 4

Not much to report for day 4 – a full day by the pool, and homecooked evening meal. Nice and relaxing and much needed after the previous day’s exertions.

Day 5

On day 5 we were off to Granada to visit the Alhambra. Tina had recommended that we book in advance, but the when we tried to do that before we left the UK, their website was down. We thought we’d chance it anyway and if it turned out we couldn’t get in, at least we could still visit the city itself.

We woke early and were on the road to Granada by 7am. The drive took us through Lanjaron, a spa town about 9km from Orgiva, and then onto the motorway heading north to Granada. The roads were clear and once we got near the city, the Alhambra was well signposted – we made it to the car park in about an hour and there was plenty of space there at that time of the morning. By 8am there was quite a queue forming already for direct ticket sales for that day, and the admissions office opened at 8.30am. Our tickets cost 10 Euros each (excellent value we thought) and we finally made it into the grounds at about 9.20am and had been issued timed entry tickets to the Nasrid Palaces for 9.30am so made our way straight there.

Whatever I actually write about the Alhambra won’t actually do it justice, and everything that I think about it has been said before, it is superb. We loved the Nasrid Palaces, very atmospheric, beautifully ornate and you can’t help but marvel at how much work must have gone into the building and detail. Being such a keen photographer, this was a dream come true for Neil, so we lingered in the Palaces for quite a while.

Next we went on to the Alcazabar, the military part of the whole Alhambra complex. This provided tremendous views over the city, in particular the old Moorish district of the Albaicin and down to the cathedral – yet more photo stops! It was getting very hot by this time so we sought shade in the Palace of Charles V, which is a complete contrast in terms of architecture. It’s built in a Renaissance style, and we enjoyed walking round in the “circular courtyard”. There’s a small museum of artefacts in the palace and whilst we were there, an additional exhibition of sketches from a recent book.

We pushed on towards the Generalife, stopping at a souvenir shop on the way (holiday fridge magnet number 2 purchased). I had actually set my heart on a small picture of the Alhambra we had discovered which would have looked perfect in our living room – it was destined to be our ‘official’ souvenir of the trip…..until I saw the price: 150 Euros! I loved it, but not quite that much!

Anyway, we made through the Generalife which was a highlight for me. I absolutely loved the gardens, fountains and the summer palace there. I found a lovely spot in the shade under a vine with a great view of the rest of the Alhambra – a lovely retreat from the heat of the day.

Once we had seen everything we decided to head back to base. We had thought about going down into the city to explore a bit more but it was incredibly hot that day and after such an early start we were a bit weary. That night, we decided to walk down to one of Tina’s ‘locals’ for dinner, the Venta Maria. It’s a small, family run place and we had more lovely tapas followed by some simple grilled meat. Delicious, and such good value at 27 Euros for drinks, snacks and a meal. This time, we had taken the precautionary measure of bringing a torch to illuminate our way back too!

Day 6 next – another of Elma Thompson’s walks! Would the directions have stood the test of time?!

Day 6

Having learnt from the previous walk, we decided to leave early. We were planning to walk further that day so the cool of the morning in the valley would make it much more comfortable and enjoyable. We drove to Pampaneira; the lowest village in the Poqueira Gorge and arrived at about 9am. After a brief detour to get cold bottles of water for the walk, off we went.

We walked down through the village and joined a track to the bottom of the valley and crossed over the river. Then came a climb we weren’t expecting! Elma’s directions and map indicated that we needed to walk along the valley towards a bridge just below Capileira – the most northerly village. What we hadn’t bargained on was having to climb the side of the valley first! What followed was a strenuous walk, punctuated with wonderful views, and the occasional expletive when one of us stopped to catch our breath. After about an hour or so, we reached the highest point on that side of the valley. At least it felt like we couldn’t go any higher – the view from the other side later that afternoon would reveal that relatively, we hadn’t climbed that far!

The point where we were to begin our descent was an old ruined cortijo (farmhouse); hereafter known as “My House”. I fell in love with it. Perhaps I’d read too much of the Chris Stewart books about buying a small farm with decrepit farmhouse and carving a living from the land, but the magnificent view and absolute peace and quiet had me completely sold on the idea of the simple life. So what if there seemed to be no discernible access other than a crumbling footpath? Why does one really need electricity, running water and a phone? Surely there would be a solid, financially viable way to make this madcap scheme work? Well, maybe not, that’s why the place had stood empty for years, but one can but dream….

Anyway, on we pressed, down back to the bottom of that valley and across the river again, climbing up the route we had taken the previous Sunday. This time we knew to ignore recently erected signposts and felt positively cocky with navigational confidence on this previously trodden ground!

About halfway up, we happened to meet two other walkers. English ladies, one of whom co-owned a house in Bubion and had been holidaying in the area for the last decade. They were very impressed to hear that we’d walked all the way up from Pampaneira (I, on the other hand, was just flabbergasted that we’d come that far and were not even halfway through) and started to tell us a bit about the area. They pointed out O-Sel-Ling, the seemingly oddly located Buddhist monastery, and talked about the myriad alternative lifestyles that seem to have thrived in the region since.

When we eventually reached Capileira, we knew we were halfway there, but the second part of the walk was pretty much all downhill – reassuring thought as the sun was getting much higher in the sky by now and we were in danger of being the archetypal ‘mad dogs and Englishmen’. We stopped for a brief cold drink in one of the bars in the village and pushed on. The walk to Bubion was by road so fairly easy, and the views were superb. We could just about make out “My House” across the valley and from a distance we thought we could see a track leading to it. It had access! Maybe not such a crazy idea after all??? At Bubion, we made some shrewd fridge magnet purchases (numbers 3 and 4 of the trip) and picked our way down the torturously steep alleys of the village towards the church. Here we picked up the GR7 footpath which apparently runs from Greece to the westernmost point of Spain. Our route was not quite so adventurous as we only walked the final 30 mins down to Pampaneira but the descent was along a lovely path, surrounded by small farms with incredible valley views in the background. We celebrated finishing the 8km walk in fitting style by purchasing fridge magnet number 5.

Once we’d reached the car we drove back to Capileira for a light luch, and a more important trip to the leather shop. I had seen some lovely handbags (not to be modelled with my attire of walking boots and shorts of course) and felt the need to indulge in some retail therapy after such a strenuous day.

The remainder of the afternoon was pure folly. Anyone who has read this far, may have noticed a couple of references to ham and pork products in general. What I haven’t really mentioned, is just how much porcine meat plays a part in the local diet. It’s everywhere. The humblest café or watering hole has huge legs of cured ham hanging above the bar, much of the tapas includes slices of ham of locally produced sausage, and loin of pork or skewered pork (pinchitas) are on every restaurant menu. We had learnt that the delicious ham of the region came from Trevelez, the highest of the High Alpujarra villages, and a good 20km drive further on from Pampaneira. Well, surely it was worth a visit, and more importantly – a fridge magnet, ideally in the shape of a ham.

Trevelez is clearly a town dedicated to only one thing – the aforementioned ham – and every shop, restaurant and bar was cashing in on it’s famous product. Being a pig there must be like being a turkey at Christmas, and having said that, we didn’t see one live pig there! We found magnet number 6, an excellent specimen, and had a wander round, but by that point we were dusty and tired after the earlier exertions.

We drove back to Orgiva and stopped by the supermarket again to buy more supplies for that night’s BBQ (pork of course – well it would have been rude not to!). We cooled off in the pool before spending a relaxing evening on the terrace resting our weary legs.


Day 7 next. Market day in Orgiva and sadly our last full day in Las Alpujarras.

If you’re interested, Neil has now sorted out his photos and uploaded them. They can be viewed here: http://tinyurl.com/q3ss6

Great report and OMG AWESOME photos! Is your husband a professional photographer? The photos are really amazing.

Thank you for your trip report. I enjoyed reading it immensely.

Thanks Laartista and AnnAussie.

Here's the penultimate installment!

Day 7
Neil is a member of a local photographic society and often enters themed competitions so is always on the lookout for prospective photos which might fit the bill. One of the set subjects for an upcoming competition is ‘markets’ so it would have been criminal not to go into Orgiva that Thursday to experience the commercial highlight of the week!

The small town was busy, and it was clear that many had come from far and wide to stock up on essentials. What was most evident was the incredibly eclectic mix of people that live in the Alpujarra region. The Spaniards who had lived there all there lives, as well as the new age travelers who had made the area their home. The different types of market stalls catered to both; offering either clothes, lurid coloured sweets, fake designer watches and sunglasses, or alternatively organic produce, herbal remedies and what I assumed to be healing crystals. Predictably the vendors with the most roaring trade however were those piled high with fresh fruit and vegetables – all of which looked so much more appetizing than the pre-packed, homogenous produce we see in sterile supermarkets at home.

After a circuit of the market, we stopped for a coffee at a Middle Eastern influenced café. Groups of new age travelers were drinking fruit infused teas and one came up to us to offer us vegan chocolate cake. We demurred, not out of disrespect to her baking (although it did look a little dry…) but purely because we weren’t really hungry.

Once Neil had exhausted all photographic opportunities at the market, we retreated back to Buenavista. It was our last afternoon there and we wanted to relax by the pool one final time.

That evening we walked in Orgiva (torch in hand again for the return journey) and had a lovely meal in a wonderful setting. The Jardin Restaurant lives up to its name with a pretty little garden and a mixed menu with anything from pizza and pasta, to local specialties (more pork!).

We didn’t stay out late as the next day we had to be up and packed and out the door by 10am so Tina would have time to prepare the casita for her next guests. Our flight from Malaga wasn’t until 7.30pm however so we planned to make a day out of the drive – Tina had recommended a more scenic route which we thought sounded like fun.

Day 8 next. The final drive to Malaga, via mountains, Almunecar and Marina del Este.

Day 8

We woke up a little sad knowing that we were leaving Spain that day. We finished packing and said our final goodbyes to Tina. She had provided us with directions for the alternative route back to the coast and knowing that we had the whole day to spare before having to be at the airport she suggested we drive north on the motorway towards Granada, turn off just south of the city and follow a scenic route down to Almunecar before joining the coastal road to Malaga.

The drive up the motorway was smooth, but as we turned off, I saw a sign which I thought said that there were roadworks in 12kms. Almost immediately the road became a dirt track and the only other vehicle was a truck we were following which billowed out clouds of dust and grit in its wake.

Our first thought was that we had missed a turning somewhere and ended up on a road to a quarry. We were driving over loose stone chippings for miles without any sign of other vehicles until I realised the sign had meant the roadworks lasted for 12km. Having said that, we only ever saw any signs of work in the final 500m!

Once we had finally made it onto a tarmac road, the scenery changed rapidly. Throughout the long ‘roadworks’, the surroundings had been quite uninspiring. Not unattractive, but nothing spectacular. It looked like quite an agricultural area and the fields on either side of the roads were planted with olive trees. Soon we began to see more varied trees, and then suddenly we found ourselves looking out onto the most incredible backdrop. Tina had been right – the rock formations were simply stunning, and we stopped a number of times to take pictures. It was one of the few places I’ve ever been where you honestly cannot hear anything else. There was almost perfect silence. No wind, no other cars or people, and just the most incredible view. If we are ever to return, we’ll investigate further as it looks like great walking territory! The closer we got to the coast, we could see evidence of much more development; advertisements in English for new housing estates, greater concentrations of supermarkets and just general signs of civilization. We were aiming to join the main coastal road at Almunecar but here we took our first wrong turn of the entire trip! It wasn’t a complete disaster; we turned straight round again, but my 100% navigation success record was broken. Worse was to come. Once we’d made it onto the main road, we planned to turn off almost immediately to go down a tiny peninsular to Marina del Este. We found the turning all right, but took yet another wrong turn trying to get down to the harbour! After a week of picking my way along tortuous mountain roads, I was being flummoxed by the heavily (British) populated coast!

When we eventually found the marina, it was complete culture shock. We’d been in such a rural environment that it was quite a surprise to be in amongst the very expensive holiday homes and timeshares of the Costa Tropical. There were huge yachts moored at the marina, exclusive art galleries, and more excitingly, a couple of estate agents windows to peruse. The apartments and villas here were a world away from the property we had seen in Las Alpujarras (yes, we had looked in estate agent windows there too!). There wasn’t much on offer for under 1million Euros, perhaps a tad out of our price range. Given the choice, I’d always choose ‘My House’ up on the mountainside with no roof, access, mains water, electricity etc!

We had lunch at one of the restaurants on the marina (our first and only seafood of the trip!) and pottered round afterwards looking at the yachts and motorboats; Neil managing to get a few photos on the way.

Before long, it was time to go back to the car for the final drive to Malaga, and more worryingly, having to find where to drop the car off. We entered Malaga at a busy time on a Friday afternoon (no doubt when all the residents were trying to get out of the city) and followed signs for the airport. It was almost too simple. What had seemed like such an ordeal a week before, went seamlessly. The car hire depot appeared out of nowhere (and we had easily managed to fill up the tank just beforehand) so before we knew it we were in the airport terminal and first in line for when our check in desk opened.

And so that was it. Shortly after, we were back at home. At least we had the weekend to ourselves before having to be back at work, and much of it was spent talking about a repeat trip in April 2007 (to coincide with my 30th hopefully) when we anticipate the springtime scenery to be completely different to summer.

Fabulous report and photos - thanks so much for sharing!