Andalusia 2012

A YouTube video of our time in Andalusia can be seen here.

June 29th Barcelona to Marbella

After tidying up our little apartment and settling things with our host Zoraya, we set of on foot to the nearby Placa Espanya where we could catch an airport shuttle bus. The trip out took around 40 minutes in all but we managed things without incident and arrived at the airport.

The airport was a model of inefficiency. The queues to baggage check were reasonable but it was one of those setups where you have to pick a line rather than a shared line and take the next available free counter. We managed to get behind a couple of Russians who had some problem or other and our line simply refused to move for ages. Once that aspect was finally over, we joined the huge queue waiting to get through security. This time they did have one line, which was later split into smaller ones by an official. We got to within about ten people of the scanners before we were redirected to another line, about thirty people long. Added to this, Christine tried to get through with an iPhone in her pocket, followed by a bottle of water in her baggage. She narrowly escaped being taken out the back and shot.

We had seats right down the back of the plane, which meant that all overhead locker space was already used by the air crew. Our bags had to go under the seats, taking up what tiny amount of space we had for our legs. Thank goodness we were only facing a flight of a bit over an hour.

Our friend Stephanie was at Malaga airport to greet us and whisked us away to her waiting car. We quickly cleared Malaga and set off down the E15 Motorway to Marbella, about 50kms away. The countryside was beautiful and strangely familiar. I realised that the familiarity came from all the movies we’ve seen set in California and the landscape and vegetation is rather similar. Here, Spain looks like we imagine Spain is supposed to look, with lots of Andalusian style buildings and white stucco walls. Even cacti are dotted everywhere and there are people fighting bulls on every street corner.

Stephanie’s apartment is fantastic. It is on the top floor of three and overlooks a beautiful grassed area with two swimming pools. Out the back is a panoramic view of the Sierra de las Nieves, a rugged mountain range around 2000m in height. To reach the beach is an easy walk over a walk bridge and down a block. We had a lovely bedroom with its own well appointed en-suite but king of all was the magnificent terrace running the length of the apartment and a top spot to have breakfast or dinner.

After settling in, we went for a bit of a wander down to the beach, just to get the lie of the land. The sea-breeze was in so the idea of a swim wasn’t that attractive but the beach was still quite crowded. There seems to be the usual assortment of bars and small restaurants around.

Stephanie had invited some friends, Kathy and John, for dinner so we spent a lovely night enjoying great food. Stephanie had read of my poor opinion of Atlantic Salmon here in Europe compared to the Tasmanian kind so she was quite nervous about serving up trout. She needn’t have worried because it was absolutely amazing. She also introduced us to a simple but delightful entree of melon and ham, a favourite here in Spain. The Spanish ham is quite different to what we are used to and far more flavoursome.

We happily picked up lots of good tips for travelling around Andalusia and the rest of Spain. Stephanie, Kathy and John all looked a bit appalled when we said we wanted to go to Gibraltar, killing any idea we had of actually staying there. It was presented as an over-priced, run-down tourist trap but we still felt that we just had to go. We were warned not to approach the monkeys on the rock but then we already hate monkeys so we are in absolutely no danger of trying to befriend one.

 

30th June Marbella

Our full intention was to spend the day doing nothing, with a trip to the beach at best. Christine did start off the morning with some laps of the pool and that must have set the scene because we somehow got all energetic and went out to see Marbella itself and didn’t get back until four hours later. Stephanie couldn’t believe it. She thought we must have been lost but we just seemed to keep walking. We wandered around the cluster of small shops, explored the larger department store complex and found a nice little spot to have lunch. There are some well priced places on most streets and the crowds don’t seem too great, despite it being high season. It seems the European economic woes are taking their toll.

Eventually, we made our way down to the harbour side, a fascinating place full of ultra-expensive power craft and yachts. These boats are an unashamed and vulgar display of wealth. I wouldn’t have one if I was given it. Neither would I accept one of the many Ferraris, Lamborghinis or Rolls Royces that were parked along the quay, nor enjoy a free meal at one of the ridiculously expensive quay-side establishments that were filled with silly rich people. I’m too much of a martyr to do any of those things. Marbella has a reputation as the Costa Del Crime, funded on the proceeds of organised money laundering and government corruption. Indeed, quite a few Spanish officials have ended up in jail lately for salting away money in dodgy schemes down this way. However, as a spectator sport, hanging around the quay is wonderful. Quite a lot of lesser-life tourists like us were having photographs taken standing next to a Ferrari and I tried to get Christine to lie across the bonnet of a cute yellow model but she said she didn’t have the right underwear on. Another day then!

1st July Marbella

We lazed around in the morning, starting off with some early morning lap swimming. That doesn’t seem to be the norm here, with most people not appearing much before 10am. We had an arrangement to have a lunch of Paella at a restaurant called Les Espigones right on the beach and walked down to meet Kathy and John there.

We thought the restaurant was right on the beach at Marbella so imagine our surprise when Stephanie told us that we weren’t even in Marbella, that the town we were in and had visited the previous day was actually Puerto Banus, with Marbella being another 5km or so down the road. We felt really silly. It also meant that we had to take another trip into Marbella just to say we’ve been there.

The paella was really delicious, much better than the one we’d had in Barcelona. Kathy had booked in and ordered a paella for three, which was a good thing because the five of us struggled to get through it as it was. It was filled with prawns, mussels and cockles. Of course, we washed it all down with lashings of wine and beer and rolled away feeling very full.

A bit of a walk helped settle lunch before Stephanie led us to the “Horseshoe”, a local Irish Pub were she seemed to be very well known. When we entered, we were subjected to a continual barrage of banter and abuse from the barman, a really funny Irishman named Paul. He seemed incapable of stringing two serious sentences together, and his ability to take the micky out of customers was outstanding. The pub began to fill up with few irish and an English couple, so we did a bit of channel surfing on the big TV to swap between the Australia vs England cricket and the Gaelic Football. We had a terrific time, not to mention quite a few more drinks.

The walk home was a bit of a struggle but we arrived unscathed and Stephanie put her head down while we had a swim to revive ourselves. We even skipped dinner later on, the paella being enough to keep us alive for a while, and settled down to watch the European Cup Final between Spain and Italy. All the shops have been full of shirts, hats and flags for the population to support their side and we were anticipating quite a bit of noise outside if Spain was to win.

While we watched, each goal produced a few explosions, trumpet calls and much car horn tooting. With the final result of 4-0 to Spain, we went on to the balcony to watch the few fireworks and listen to the singing. It was actually less than I’d imagined but we were still glad we were not down town where things might get a bit too rousing.

July 2nd Marbella

A bit of a lazy day today, with a trip to the shop and a walk into Puerto Banus for lunch. We picked up another Yoigo SIM for Christine’s phone so that we would have plenty of Internet and calls while in Spain and a cover for my Android Tablet because I have once again cracked the screen, although this time it wasn’t fatal. We enjoyed a lovely lunch, but then we always do.

We spent the evening pouring over road maps and driving instructions for our forthcoming drive to Seville.

July 3rd Gibraltar and Sevilla

Today was a day filled with anxiety and stress. Actually, it wasn’t but it should have been because we set out to drive from Marbella to Gibraltar, explore Gibraltar, then drive on to Sevilla for a couple of days. We managed the trip without real incident due to the superb Spanish roads and Christine’s excellent navigational skills. She used combination of Google Maps on the iPhone and Stephanie’s road atlas to guide us in.

We did have a few issues in Gibraltar because Stephanie had told us to look for the MacDonalds in La Linea on the Spanish side of the border, park there and walk across. The problem with this idea is that La Linea has two MacDonalds, and we went to the wrong one. We realised our mistake, walked back to the car and navigated around La Linea to the border crossing. At one point, we were stuck in a two kilometre long line of cars trying to cross into Gibraltar. This time, we found the right MacDonalds but they had a boom gate entry to the car park and were checking for genuine customers. We managed to find street parking nearby and even managed the parking ticket machine. Our Spanish must be improving.

The crossing into Gibraltar is terrific and worth coming to the place for. Firstly, there is the amazing scenery, with the “Rock” towering over all and shrouded in cloud at its summit. The rock itself is a very imposing sight, probably even better on approach from about 10km away. Then there is the experience of being shepherded through in a line with a bored looking officer staring at the open passports going by. That’s it. No inspection or checks, although he was awake enough to knock back the couple behind us who were trying to get through by showing a VISA card. The next hurdle is that you have to cross a runway, used both by commercial aircraft and the RAF. On our way over, the runway was open but on the return crossing, we had to wait for a British Airways flight and three RAF Hawker fighter jets. It was hugely entertaining watching the amazing traffic snarl this created and the racing motorbikes when the gates eventually opened.

Gibraltar is fascinating, much better than Stephanie’s opinion suggested. I love any place with a sense of history and Gibraltar is dripping with it. There aren’t a lot of streets but most of those that run parallel to the coast bear the remnants of some past fortification. Where else can you live in an apartment and have 18th Century cannon aimed at you from across the street?

As Stephanie had predicted, it is very touristy, playing much upon it being British. Fish and chip shops abound, as do red telephone boxes. The police even wear bobbies’ helmets and prices are in Pounds. One can pay in Euros but the exchange rate is a joke. Luckily, we had some Pounds with us. We walked the streets for a while, decided against a cable car to the top of the rock due to time constraints and contented ourselves with sharing a serve of “cod and chips”. My understanding is that cod is all but extinct in the Atlantic but the fish was good anyway.

After the fun of the reverse border crossing, which at least included a bag search for duty-free contraband, we had all the joy of navigating out of La Linea and onto the motorway to Jerez de la Frontera then on to Sevilla. Christine’s magic worked and we were on our way, driving through some wonderful mountainous landscapes. The tunnels are the best, sweeping down wonderful long inclines and diving into sides of mountains. For a poor West Aussie who has grown up with the Darling Range, such a wealth of mountainous terrain is great.

At one point, we pulled off into a service station, our bladders driving us more than the need for fuel. However, the bowser refused to obey my commands so Christine went in to the shop for help. Apparently, their computer system had died so it wasn’t my incompetence after all. We just used the toilet, bought a drink and left. We still haven’t managed to actually buy fuel in Europe. (see Bordeaux entry)

The approach to Sevilla looks easy in the road atlas, tricky on Google Maps and bloody awful in the flesh. Stephanie (who can’t actually read a map) said it was easy, just follow the signs that say “Seville”. The strategy works but you have to deal with three off ramps in less than a kilometre in traffic doing 120km/hr. We did it but lost a year of our lives in payment.

Then it was head into town, look for the bull ring and turn right. Sounds easy? Madness. But we DID IT! The Montecarlo Hotel was brilliant, cheap, beautiful and with a very friendly staff. They helped me park the car, into a tiny garage with three back and fills, down one floor in a car lift, then inch by inch into a tiny parking space.

Once settled in, we headed off to search for refreshment. We actually needed a drink after the trauma of the drive but compromised a bit with a refreshing sangria down by the river. Sevilla was largely shut down for siesta, a tradition taken very seriously here and with good reason because the heat certainly builds up. It was hot by any standards wandering the streets so we moved slowly, pausing every now and then to stop for a drink. This might sound like a pub crawl but it is more just the way it is here, one drink is enough then walk and stop for another.

We did have a bit of a historical bonding session at the Torre del Oro, a wonderful 15th Century tower forming part of the old fortified walls. In the past, it supported a huge chain slung across the river to guard the harbour. These days, it is a Naval Museum, featuring displays showing off Seville’s importance as a port in the past. Although well inland, the city sits on the Rio Guadalquivir, and up until the mid 17th Century, all Spanish maritime traffic to and from the Americas had to depart or arrive in Seville, making it one of the most important cities in Europe. The river suffered from silting in the 19th Century which reduced Seville’s importance as a port.I was impressed by the many naval displays, featuring such famous navigators as Columbus and Magellan. Today, Seville is still an inland port although it only handles small cargoes.

It was tapas and drinks for dinner then a night in.

 

July 4th Sevilla

We took an open bus tour of the city first up. These operate in most sizeable European cities, allowing tourists to catch an open top bus that travels on a set route and includes a multi-language commentary by means of headphones. This one included four stops where passengers can hop and off to visit the various sights. As always, we learnt a lot from the commentary but somehow it’s not quite the same coming from a headset and not a real person.

The bus travelled through two separate areas of previous Expos. One, in 1929, had left a legacy of many fine buildings, each in a style representative of the nation that built it to display their achievements. These are mostly in use today as university faculties and dance schools. The second Expo area was from 1993 and looked like a science fiction movie where the Earth gets wiped out. Futuristic buildings were scattered around an unkempt area, with weeds growing through the pavement and rust showing through the many exposed girders and beams. The commentary spoke in glowing terms about the hi-tech developments occurring in this industrial park but to me the place looked derelict.

After a circuit on the bus, we visited the famous Plaza de Torros de la Maestranza, rated by fans of bullfighting as the MCG of killing bulls. Personally, I find the whole thing both barbaric and even childlike in its concept. I can’t believe that people pay to watch cattle systematically tortured before being slaughtered. Australia nearly destroyed diplomatic relations with Indonesia for the same reason. Slowly killing a fish on the end of a length of monofilament line seems much more civilized. However, the bull fight is part of Spain and this is one of its homes.

Our bus ticket included a walking tour of some of the oldest parts of Seville. We had a while to wait so we sat in the shade and watched a team of illegal hat sellers plying their trade on the sidewalk. Doing business without a licence must be risky because at one point, all hats vanished and sellers started to scatter. Word quickly passed around and they returned just as quickly, taking their hats out of plastic bags and harassing tourists once again. One noticed us watching with amusement and sidled over whispering “Polizia” and laughing with us. Great fun.

The guide for the walking tour arrived and gathered together a gaggle of a dozen Spanish speakers and two English speakers. This meant that at each site, we got to look and film while he spoke to the masses then they had to wait while he spoke to us. We formed a sort of camaraderie. He was very good. Of course, we only visited the outside of the various buildings but he gave us the necessary historical background to each one.

The most impressive was the Alcazar, the palace dating from 910AD and originally built by the Moors but added to by successive Kings and Queens of Andalusia and Spain. After the walking tour, we went back to explore the interior of the Alcazar. It is still in use today as a Royal Palace but open to the public when they are not in residence. The grandeur inside is well worth experiencing. The fact that you are allowed to wander at will through large areas of the palace is fantastic and we are hoping to be able to do the same when we visit London. We loved the wonderful terraces and gardens.

Opposite the Alcazar is the famous Catedral de Sevilla and Giralda Tower, the World’s third largest religious structure after The Vatican and St Paul’s. Built between 1402 and 1506, it is an enormous cathedral with an extremely impressive bell tower. We had previously decided that we have climbed our last church bell tower and so resisted the temptation to conquer this one, despite the fact that we were told that instead of the usual spiral staircase, this one had a spiral ramp inside so the mule teams had been able to cart up the construction materials. Still, if you’ve seen one medieval city from above you’ve seen them all.

By this time, most things had shut down for the “siesta” so we decided to follow suit and head home for a quick nap. This gave us enough oomph to actually head out again in the evening and stay out until it got dark. With the nightfall still around 10pm, this was a rarity for us but we filled in time just strolling around the various plazas and streets around Placa Espanya (most Spanish cities seem to have one of these) and watching the locals at play. We marvelled at a group of young guys doing a kind of Andalusian breakdance. They were clearly competing/showing off but it was a great performance. A similar group were mucking around on skate boards but without the attendant destruction of public facilities that often accompanies skate board use in Perth. It was fun and relaxing.

We stopped at a street bar for a quiet ale and wine and watched as the busy streets just seemed to empty, all in the space of about half an hour, before finding our way home through the narrow winding streets.

5 July Arcos de la Frontera and Ronda

With great trepidation at the thought of another day’s driving, we set off after breakfast to return to Marbella via the towns of Arcos de la Frontera and Ronda. First, the hurdle of actually buying fuel had to be overcome but I had a suitable fuel stop in mind and we navigated to it without a wrong turn. The pump actually worked and we paid with cash, our first successful fuel purchase in four attempts in Europe.

It was back down the high speed toll-way for 100km or so, essentially following the broad plain formed over the years by the Rio Guadalquivir. The beautiful low rolling hills are covered in crops of wheat, corn, potatoes, olives, avocados and oranges. Turning off towards Arcos saw the country become steadily more mountainous.

We found the turn-off to Arcos de la Frontera and drove to the outskirts of the small town. This is one of the many “white towns” of the area, where all or most of the buildings are brilliant white and huddle along a ridge or peak. A lot of localities are called “something de la Frontera” a reference to the past when they formed the barrier of defence between the forces of Islam and Christianity. Arcos is one such town, with a wonderful Moorish castle clinging to a high rock, giving sweeping views of the valley below. The Romans first used it as a garrison, followed by the Visigoths, Moors and finally the Christian forces of Ferdinand and Isabella.

We looked at the castle and church high above and decided that; A) we weren’t driving up there and b) we weren’t walking up there. Content with a view from a distance, we parked on the outskirts and walked along towards the castle, intending to turn around when the climb got too steep. Pity the poor horse carrying a knight in full armour. A sign pointed to the tourist bureau and we figured this would be a good destination to see what was on offer. It was actually a cleverly placed series of signs that trick you into climbing to the top of the hill, where the tourist bureau is actually located. The climb was not really strenuous at all and terrific fun because every now and then a car would come rumbling up the narrow cobbled street and we we had to duck into a doorway, pull our stomachs in and turn our feet in so they didn’t get run over. Many cars had their wing mirrors turned inwards to preserve them but most also bore the scars of regular encounters with stone walls along their fenders. The insurance premiums must be ghastly.

The view from the top made the walk worthwhile. I stood at the parapet walls with my lady at my side and watched over the peasants at work in the fields below. Pity any Moorish army that rode by because I had the cauldrons of burning tar ready for action. All wonderful stuff.

 

Back at the car, we set off for Ronda, our next destination. The mountains grew bigger in the distance and, unfortunately, the road was of a lesser standard, still good but more like a rural Australian highway, with single lanes with occasional passing lanes. The speed limit fluctuated between 90 and 70km/hr, depending on the terrain, but that obviously means nothing to the locals. I drove strictly to the speed limit, partly because I thought it was safe and partly because Christine was starting to whine about things. I made a terrible mistake by passing a small truck that was struggling up a hill. He obviously took exception to me doing so and became a rear-bumper magnet when we went down the other side. He clearly wanted to pass, and showed his discontent with lots of light flashing. Christine started whining about my speed, I told her very politely to settle down and we continued on to Ronda in a state of perpetual fear. When we finally pulled off he passed by with much tooting and shouting things in Spanish. I don’t think it was a “Welcome to Ronda!”

Once again, we drove as close as the parking would allow and walked the rest of the way to the main attraction. Most shops had just started to close for siesta but many cafes remained open for business so we stopped for a quick lunch. Then we walked the length of the main mall to the “New Bridge” that is one of Ronda’s claims to fame. This amazing structure spans a narrow but very deep gorge and towers 120 metres above the river. It makes an impressive site and was certainly an engineering marvel back in 1793 when it was completed.

 

We also walked past Ronda’s bull ring, the oldest in Spain and wandered around admiring the many tiny streets and beautiful plazas. Staying a night in Ronda would certainly be worthwhile and I imagine the evening light on the canyon walls would show them off to advantage.

From Ronda, it was a 40km drive down the mountains to home. It seemed straightforward enough, but somehow we made very heavy work of it. The drive down is sensational, with wonderful views, in places stretching right across to the Atlas Mountains in Morocco. Unfortunately, neither of us were able to really appreciate them because I was concentrating so hard on the driving, which was quite a challenge, and Christine was too busy telling me to slow down or brake. Every now and then there was a pull over where we could rest up and admire the view, although the road surface at the entrance to these stops was really bad. The regular signs warning of avalanche and snow drifts suggest that the same drive in Winter could be far worse.

Our mistake came when we finally reached the bottom 35km later. We reached a motorway that we mistook for the A7 coastal road and pulled on to it. Instead, it was the E15 tollway that runs parallel to the one we wanted but bypasses the area around Stephanie’s apartment. On entering, the first thing we had to do was pay a toll, then it was off down the motorway. After 7 or 8 km, we started to look out for familiar landmarks but they weren’t appearing. After a long time, Christine was insisting that we get off the motorway and find a place to pull up. I finally agreed and we used Google Maps to determine that we were in fact 17kms the other side of home, closer to Malaga than Marbella. So, we turned around and re-entered the motorway, sure we knew the way off and on to the A7. Near Marbella, we got off the motorway again and pulled over, working out a sure and certain way of correcting our mistake. We nearly made it, and only just missed the off ramp by a whisker, streaming instead onto another ramp that threatened to take us back up into the mountains. I was a screaming mess by this time. We slipped back onto the E15, feeling like a scene from Groundhog Day and drove on through the tunnels and flyovers until a toll station came into view. This would be a second totally unnecessary toll payment so Christine got me to pull up short of the gate and she went on foot to seek help. The kind girl gave us directions to salvation but still took our money. As we went through I called “See you again!” and she at least had the grace to laugh.

This time we made it to San Pedro, not far from our home. We only got lost once in San Pedro and nearly yelled in delight when we actually made it onto the A7. The incredible thing is that once we were on the right road, we only had to drive about 2km to reach the apartment. That 2km had taken well over an hour. This may be the last driving we do.

Despite our trials, we thoroughly enjoyed our circuit of Andalusia. After so many cities, it is really good to get out in the countryside. The Spanish roads are excellent (outside of the narrow lanes of the medieval cities) and Stephanie’s car, a little diesel powered Ford Fiesta, is a great little car to drive.

 

6 July Marbella

We had a day mostly at home today, organising bus and flight details for the next few legs of our trip. Things started strangely when I looked at Christine and recoiled in horror. This isn’t something that happens all the time but on this occasion her right eye was rather hard to look at because it was filled with blood. She seemed largely unaware of it, although had a vague recollection of scratching at it during the night. Her sight was unaffected but it was nasty to look at so Christine rang a doctor in San Pedro for an appointment.

Meanwhile, we headed over the road for a breakfast at the Padel Tennis Club. Padel Tennis is a fascinating game played on a half sized tennis court but with glass back walls and half height glass sides. Playing the ball of the wall squash-style is permitted. The ball is like a tennis ball but low compression and the rackets are short handled with a hard outer and a styrofoam interior. There is more shot play and less running than regular tennis. They have seven or eight courts and the place does a roaring trade. They also have a lovely cafe and Stephanie introduced us to a breakfast of toasted baguette, dipped in olive oil and spread with a fresh pureed tomato. It was really tasty.

Stephanie drove us to San Pedro to see the doctor. Fortunately, all was fine, it probably being a clot formed when she had nicked it with a fingernail. I’d just avoid looking at her for the next five days or so while it cleared. Since we were out, Stephanie took us to Marbella bus station so we could buy some bus tickets to get to Malaga in a few days time.

The afternoon was taken up with the Wimbledon Men’s Semi Finals. When things get tight, Stephanie gets nervous, and when she’s nervous she cleans. With Andy Murray playing and Scottish pride on the line, we expected the house to be spotless, but Stephanie maintained her composure very well and saw Andy to victory.

Later, Kathy and John came around, bearing maps of Madrid and providing some much valued advice. We will only have a day and a half in Madrid so getting some pointers on the best sights and places to eat is invaluable. Their help and advice has greatly enhanced our time in Andalusia.

July 7 Marbella

Today we finally visited the town of Marbella itself. We took a ferry from Peurto Banus, a spectacular way to go because the whole vista of the Costa del Sol was spread out before us. The number of condos and apartments is beyond belief. Stephanie says that she visited the area 30 years ago and San Pedro was a one street village and Puerto Banus little better. The real estate windows are still full of new developments and plans, although very little is actually being built in the present climate and selling them is very difficult.

As the ferry eased out of the quay, we cruised past a couple of mega-yachts. Christine looked their names up on the Internet and found that they were both owned by the King of Saudi Arabia. That probably explains the gold Rolls Royce with the Arabic number plates parked alongside.

Marbella itself was a bit of a disappointment, being yet another collection of condos, bars, boutiques etc. The old town, with the now familiar cobbled winding streets had some character and we had a sandwich and beer there, but otherwise the main event was me getting a hair cut. I had missed finding the Barber of Seville so had to put up with the Barber of Marbella.

The ferry delivered us home again and we had a dip in the pool before settling down on the terrace to watch the swimmers and party goers below and, of course, we bagged everyone and anything.

July 8 Marbella

Our last day in Marbella. We were very content to take it easy, especially with the Wimbledon Men’s Final on the books. We did go to the beach early on, just so we could officially record a swim in the Mediterranean. Christine can claim a win here, actually swimming the length of the small cove but I can only claim to have waded up to my waist. It was far too cold for me. The days have been warm, up to 37 degrees and last night was uncomfortably warm but the water remains cold.

Otherwise, it was a slow day, except for Stephanie, who scurried around in another cleaning frenzy to ward off nerves of Andy Murray’s chances. We had little faith in him so we said nothing. In the end, with poor Andy proving to be yet another runner-up, Stephanie took it well and Roger Federer added another notch to his incredible set of wins.

This was to complete our stay in Andalusia and the Costa del Sol. It is a very comfortable place to live, especially if you don’t have to drive a car and navigate. Having Stephanie’s hospitality has been a real bonus and our time here will be a highlight of the trip. It’s amazing that we originally had no plans to come to Spain at all and now we have been here two weeks. It doesn’t pay to plan. We catch a train to Madrid tomorrow.