[Slapsie Maxie]

I make no bones about it. I am a tourist. I am not a traveller, or an explorer. I don’t want to go “across the Andes by frog” or indeed suffer anything less than 5* comfort when I am away from home. My idea of “roughing it” is only having chardonnay in the mini bar. I love tourists and shameless touristy destinations like Vegas, Atlantic City, Blackpool and, above all, The Costa Del Sol, where we have a family holiday home.

So, when both myself and my Dr for once agreed that a holiday was in order. When work had dragged me down to the very depths of exhaustion and when one of the few friendships of recent years that mattered to me collapsed under a surfeit of vileness on both sides, I decided to drag a friend with me to Andalucia for too much food, too much booze and, quite frankly as much how’s your father as was possible for a fat, soon to be forty year old with no hair, crooked teeth and a penchant for swish movies

DAY ONE – Fun in Fuengirola
We arrived bruised and battered from a 4am start for Heathrow, a flight filled with screaming children and a queue at the Hertz rental place that made the queue for the facilities at The London Beer Festival seem very small indeed.

Our residence for the week was our lovely apartment in a small urbanization half way between Malaga and Marbella. Well situated for access to most of the great cities of Southern Spain.

After a quick shower we headed out for our first meal at a small beach bar some 5 mins from our flat.

1) Beach Bar El Faro ( The Lighthouse )This is where the Costa really works for me. In four hours, I had left the grime of London behind ( much as I love it, I do need a break from time to time) and was sitting, head freshly shaved, shirtless and in fetching ¾ length trousers and calf skin Merrill’s while sipping on my first Cruzcampo of the trip and munching on freshly fried anchovies with some gambas pil-pil and a harmless salad all the while staring into the vast expanse of sea as The Med lapped against the shore.

After a much needed doze, we walked the short 3km into the nearest big town, Fuengirola for supper.

Fuengirola has a bad reputation both in Spain and outside. It is the archetypical small, sleepy fishing village become Soddom & Gommorah. In the early 80’s it was the epicentre of the Brit invasion of The Costa and young tattooed men in Union Jack trousers piled here in droves to lay on the beach until lobster like during the day and eat “Full Roast Dinners just like you get at home” in the evening before heading out to pick a fight with no one in particular and finishing off with a much needed vomit.

In the 90’s, the locusts moved on to pastures new and the city went into serious decline. Half built hotels remained that way and lots of “starting all over afresh abroad by running a bar” dreams shattered in bankruptcy and disillusion.

But, as recent events have shown, the Spanish are nothing if not resilient, and in the late 90’s Fuengirola reinvented itself as a more affordable Puerto Banus, with a lovely marina, a handful of very decent restaurants and a huge marketing effort to attract affluent Scandanavians who spend more than the Brit’s but piss up against walls less. It worked. The town is now buzzing again and, even now in low season, it is packed with holiday makers, including many from Spain itself, for whom it has become a great domestic vacation.

OK, first history lesson over. We pottered along the marina and swapped stories of past indiscretions, then headed to one of my parent’s favourite fish grill restaurants on the beach.

2) La Caralcoa is typical of many on the seafront who display huge windows of the freshest fish and have outside huge rowing boats filled with hot coals over which the grill whole fish skewered on bamboo. It was not quite warm enough to sit on the terrace, so we chose a decent table inside. The place was empty, but by the time we left, it was packed with locals enjoying a Saturday supper.

While we looked at the menu, we both had a glass of Manzanilla which was suitably salty. To begin we shared some Mellijones a Vapor ( simply steamed mussels ) and some Bocquerones Fritura ( fried anchovies ) both excellent. The mussels, in particular were wonderfully meaty.

To follow, my chum had simple grilled Rape ( Anglerfish ) while I had Merluza
(Hake ) a la plancha. Both came, no muss, no fuss but with some pointless vegetables which went uneaten.

We drank the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu ( all of EU18 ) which was a delicious Albarino ( Senora Sobras ) which was just right with our meal.

Bill for two inc service EU65.

3) Afterwards we still fancied dessert, so headed a little way down the promenade to Verdus, one of two excellent artisnal helado shops on the seafront. After a scene much like the Monty Python cheese shop sketch where we reeled off flavours only for them to say they didn’t have them, we finally came out with a very decent Dolce and an equally good Chestnut.

Day one over and I already feel relaxed and just that bit closer to wanting to live few the next few months

So, for all the trips to Ronda, Cadiz etc to follow. I can think of no better way to start my trip than having fun in Fuengirola. It is no less Spain than Vegas is the US. it is part of it and a huge source of income. I love it

S

[Wilfrid1]

Fuck me I need a holiday.

If you don't count the personal time built around a business trip to Australia or that week in Madrid, I don't know when I last had a holiday in the sun.