RICH'S NOTES-PARENTAL TOURISMMay 5, 1999
Nerja, Province of Málaga
Málaga
It's time for my father to drive into his first Spanish metropolis. Málaga is
Andalusia's second largest city and a thriving port. I’m a little apprehensive. It's
not that he isn't an experienced driver – in college he drove buses for Acadian Lines
in Nova Scotia – but European city planners have unique solutions for 20th
century navigation through medieval towns. Besides, the only way to get through an
unfamiliar major European city is to have an attentive and experienced navigator.
A few differences between European and North American driving
-To make a left in Europe, first you have to go right.
-Two words: Ring Road. Most people think they’re easy, and it’s true for
country roads, but the city boasts a few variations. Five lanes wide with no lines,
multi-directional lights, over-riding yields painted on the cobblestone and fewer sheep,
more cabbies.
-Directional signs are moody. They tell you where you’re going until you get close
to your exit. Then they tell you the name of the tiny city at the end of the following off
ramp.
-Europeans don't use the "up-arrow" on their directional signs to mean
"straight ahead". To their credit, few of their streets are straight ahead.
Instead there is a skewed skywards left or right arrow. Just what the arrow means changes
depending on its location. Best to pull over and have a discussion.
Málaga's sprawl of suburbs starts 4 kilometres before we reach the center. The coastal
road is a slow single lane of double parking. Look for pink signs. No, not the blue hotel
signs. Pink signs. Pink signs direct visitors to local monuments and historical sites.
"Slow down! I can't read that fast!" My father is flooring it through the
downtown former Phoenician city, the Roman Port, the 19th century Málaga wine
capitol, the centre of British sunbathing. Pink sign! Castillo? Museo? I am looking for
the Alcazaba. My mother has the guidebook in the back. "The book says the Castillo is
on the top of a hill. We just passed a hill. Shouldn't we turn now?"
We’ve passed the Castillo. With a right turn we double back along a minor road. My
father dodges a few pedestrians and slaloms the motos and suddenly we’re gaining
altitude. Castillo. Parking lot. Pay the Gorilla.
The 14th century Moorish castle Castillo de Gibralfaro roosts high
above the port of Málaga, with strategically spectacular views of the Costa del Sol.
Leaning over the defensive walls I can see Málaga's bullring. A museum houses weapons and
uniforms used along the coast when the Christians reclaimed this position from the Moors
in 1478.
Málaga's Alcazaba (fortified palace) is nestled below us at the foot of a series of
terraced patios, flanked by stone walls. The steps are impassable with construction. We
have to drive down the hill. There is no direct road to the Alcazaba. Instead we must
drive into the center of town again and look for the pink sign.
The Alcazaba's living quarters and Archeological Museum are under restoration. Welcome
to Europe. Monuments are old and constantly under repair. There must be an international
photographer's guild scheduled for when monuments are free of blue coveralled, mortar
slinging construction workers hanging from scaffolding. This in itself would be a much
sought after trip planner. Never mind, the gardens and fortifications of the 8th
century palace are worth the driving and the navigating and the parking. A partially
excavated Roman amphitheatre discovered in 1951 confirms Rome’s victory against
Carthage in 206 BC, when Málaga served as a major port for Roman trade with Byzantium.
My father the European driver has triumphed and gives credit to his navigator. From the
hotel terraces we watch the sunlight fade from the Sierra de Tejeda and the lights come up
over Nerja.
