It would be a lot easier if this place didn't have so much to do, see, eat, drink and ogle at.
Yes, I know, "....it's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it ... ", to quote Faith No More.
Today, due to sleeping in, was going to be a rest day.
By "rest" we mean - No catching buses or trains or getting up at any particular hour.
We got up quite late, ~10:30, and walked across the road to the chocolate/coffee/bread/pastry shop as it began to drizzle.
The place was half full so we easily got a table. People wandered by without too much care as the rain was light and certainly not heavy enough to ruin a Malagans Sunday morning.
A wedding party, or at least it looked like one, paced past in single file, trying to take advantage of the minuscule parapet to avoid messing up their beautiful hair.
One lady took the "save the hair" mentality to an extreme that had Tiz and I stitches laughing.
She had put a shopping bag over her hair. I guess she should be commended for ingenuity but I could only think of "paper bag" jokes.
By the time the tears of laughter stopped steaming down our cheeks the rain had become worrisome.
I had planned on walking to the Museo Automovilístico de Málaga but it looked that may not happen.
A large café con leche (white coffee for you non-Spaniards) and a few small cakes later the skies opened up to reveal a blue cloudless sky.
The Accuweather app on Tiz phone didn't agree, but then again it claimed that every day in every place we stayed had a "Cloudy day" despite what kind of weather it was.
Do BoM do the weather reports for Accuweather?
It was on a 35 minute walk through what we know was a working mans portside suburb.
It's places like these that give a real sense of what a town is like.
We walked past two chicken shops selling "Pollo Asador" (roast chicken) almost next to each other.
One had a queue out onto the street at 10 people long. There other was empty.
We weren't the least bit hungry but we knew where we wouldn't go if we were later on.
Whoa! All of a sudden we were outside the museum. That was a very quick 35 minute walk.
The many buildings in this complex where all very high and clinically white.
There were too many to be all part of the car museum as they would have held many hundreds, if not thousands of cars.
This only a small sample of the buildings that surrounded the visible museum
and found the entrance.
This place is known for treating cars as a fashion statement as much as a piece of history and engineering prowess, as is evident by the poster just inside the door.
Here are only a few samples of what we saw -
The history of the haute couture that went along with the cars, and their history, was fascinating.
Both Tiz and I loved it.
It had about 80 cars so it didn't take that long.
It was now approaching "hora de comer" so we thought we'd walk back to the hotel along the beach and see which bar took our fancy for a bite to eat.
We ended up at a little bar with covered outside tables.
We had a plate of little prawns and olives, along with the obligatory bread, beer and wine.
Spaniards don't generally supply lemon with their seafood but they do give each plate a very generous sprinkling of rock salt.
Every time we get served up a plate of seafood with a very visible layer of salt we laugh and think of Tiz's mum, Lidia.
Lidia , is a cooks cook! Her cooking is second to none ...... apart from maybe my mum!
The one thing that Lidia has a a problem with is salt.
She doesn't use a lot in her cooking but you cannot put any dish down in front of her with her saying "Manca sale!" ("It lacks salt!") and giving the food a good shake of salt.
This happens with every dish that id in front of here AND before tasting it it.
She's a touch off 82 and very fit fir her age but we fear for her arteries.
We wonder if she would have the same "Manca sale!" attitude here in Spain?!
We finished the prawns and olives but where still desiring. Desiring? Desiring what?
Crema De Arroz Con Leche !!!
I could see that my attempts at using Spanglish to explain the the purely Spanish speaking waiter were getting nowhere and off he went.
He returned with a handwritten list and muttered a few things including "alcohol".
As soon as I heard that word I said "Si! Si!"
Five minutes later he returned with two servings of flan flavoured ice cream cake with a large side of mock cream. It may, just maybe ...... at a stretch ...... perhaps, have had a drop of alcohol in it.
D'oh! Will we ever get to taste Crema De Arroz Con Leche, oh cruel world?
We spent the rest of the afternoon doing not much in our room as the days ahead were going to require lots of energy, on the day, and therefore rest leading up to them.
That's all well and good but man, and woman, cannot live on rest .alone.
Ice cream is also required.
Yes, it was now 22:30, but by Spanish standards it was just the right time to head out to eat.
What we found, as we walked towards Calle Marqués de Larios, was that Malagans don't get out on Sunday night like they do every other night.
There were a few bars open but, at a stretch, only 10%.
Nonetheless, we were going to eat ice cream and ice cream we did.
We were lucky to find one of the larger chains open, just in the nick of time.
Bellies full of ice cream and close to midnight, it was time to go to bed.
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