Of all the cities on our trip, Malaga was the one we least looked forward to. Not that it is a bad place to visit, but we have been there and spent time in the surrounding area. During our planning we discussed just walking downtown all day because the offered excursions we had checked out really did not interest us. However, then one of the last excursions posted caught our eye. It would be extra special since the excursion would occur on the American holiday of over eating known as Thanksgiving. We chose for our adventure of the day, the Village Experience & Mama's Home Cooking!
Today was a full day adventure, so we ate breakfast quickly and headed to the Epic theater to wait what seemed to be forever for our excursion to be called. I know I said it in an early post, but getting off the ship, whether by tender or ramp, is painful.
Finally, our group was called and we headed to our bus. It was an absolutely beautiful day and we were full of anticipation of exactly what we would experience today. Our guide for the day was a jovial German, whose Spanish was flawless, and English impressive. Today we would be the bus 32 gang, and with 27 tourists on our chariot we headed north through the city of Malaga. We transited through neighborhoods of tree lined streets with beautiful homes that we had never seen before on our previous visit. The bus filled the narrow street and barely cleared the low hanging trees. The ride reminded us of the streets of Beaufort, South Carolina.
The first leg of our journey took about 45 minutes as we headed northeast through the Montes de Málaga National Park. The views were amazing and once again most of it was uphill. Arriving in the white village of Colmenar, the bus stopped for a bathroom break and a Spanish morning treat! Churros dipped in hot chocolate! The food cart lady was busy in the process of creating the churros as we piled out for our morning treat.
It was in Colmenar where we met up with our unofficial tour guide who would make the day extra special. Introduced as the “mayor”, he would assist our guide for the rest of our adventure. The mayor always had a mischievous smile and laugh that was infectious. Speaking little to no English, we had no problem communicating with him using simple phrases, words, and smiles.
In his little white car, he led our bus higher and higher into the mountains. The views were now of barren land and olive trees and simply stunning. However, the roads kept getting more and more narrow. I think we were following him because I am not sure the driver knew where we were going.
Pulling off the side of the road, up a dirt driveway, and into an olive orchid we unloaded once again. The air was crisp and clean, the skies a magnificent blue. The rocky hillside was full of olive trees which were intermingled with a type of oak tree that is an evergreen (Holm Oak). The ground was covered in acorns, which are the primary diet of the local wild pigs. The acorns are also the food source for the black Ibérico Pigs. It is these pigs that provide the wonderful nutty Bellota ham.
Our final destination was the town of Alfarnatejo which we were told has a whopping 168 residents. The mayor of this town and our unofficial guide had a few stops planned for us along the way. In Andalucía, it is very normal for the men to gather in a bar in the morning for a coffee and brandy. That is indeed what we did! Stopping at Casa Lola we were able to participate in the traditional morning practice, some choosing Baileys Irish Cream over the Spanish Brandy.
Most mixed the brandy in their coffee, but not Tom! Both are way to good to mix.
Everyone's jaw dropped when he told us the tree was 1500 years old! We are talking 600 AD! The ladies gathered around the mayor for this photo-op before we continued on to the co-op.
We only encountered one minor issue on the way to the co-op. It was a Mexican stand-off between our bus and a bus from another ship. With a cliff to the right of us and a embankment to left.... somebody was going to have to backup. It was quite a distance back to the major road. Our driver held tough and after a lot of exchanging of dialogue between the two tour guides, the other bus began backing up. A cheer by the folks on bus 32 erupted. We were rolling again and only minutes later we arrived at the olive oil co-op.
We were greeted at the olive oil plant by an ex-pat from the UK. His dry wit entertained us as he described the process from gathering olives to turning them into final product - olive oil. Olive oil is much like making wine in the beginning, but soon the two processes diverge. Olives get treated a little tougher than grapes. Our host had been living not far from the co-op for over 20 years. His story of leaving England and relocating to a remote section Spain was intriguing.
In the far distance in the picture below you can see a white house at the base of the mountain. He lives next door in a small house he built, and his mother-in-law lives in the white house. When they initially moved to Spain they lived in the white house with no running water or electricity. He and his sons ran pipes from the co-op across the fields to the house so they could have modern utilities. He lost his wife seven years ago and that is when he built the small house. His mother-in-law moved into the white house. We could have stayed for hours listening to the many facets of olive production and his past.
We loaded back on the the bus, many of us with bottles of olive oil, and headed to our final destination to enjoy momma's cooking. We were all getting hungry by this time and a traditional Spanish lunch sounded just like thing to solve our growling stomachs.
The bus could not make it down the tiny streets of the village, so lead by our guide, we headed into the to the town by foot. Rounding a corner low and behold who did we see standing in front of a home? The mayor dressed in an apron and inviting us inside. Awaiting us was Malaga spirts and a amuse-bouche of cookies, local honey, and fig cakes.
The home had been converted into a museum so visitors can get an understanding of life in the mountains at the turn of the century. As one would suspect, the house was small and cozy. It even had a room attached to the house to bring the animals in during the cold winter months. It was here that the mayor presented Tom with a bottle of Sherry for his whistle blowing efforts earlier in the day.
We walked down the street to the town square where three ladies were waiting. Each of the ladies were going to be our Spanish family host and chef for the meal.
Divided up into three groups, we followed our assigned host to her home where we were seated around a large kitchen table. The kitchen was warm and cozy. A fire place in the corner had a small flame and bright orange coals. At the other end the table was a large bucket, also filled with hot coals. No sooner than we settled into our spots the plates of food were served.
We had an great and hardy meal that was really filling. The lentil soup was out of this world. There was no doubt a lunch like this would sustain the farmers that worked the mountain terrains that surround the village.
We did our best to communicate with our broken Spanish, but honestly the food said everything that needed to be said, and our empty plates told how much we liked it.
With a big gracias to the senora, we met in the square with the other two groups and made our way to the bus to head back to Malaga and the ship.
What a great day! We arrived back at the ship as the sun was calling it a day.
Oh yeah, it is Thanksgiving! We cleaned up and headed to the Manhattan Club for a traditional turkey dinner.
Janet was the only one that could do a turkey dinner with stuffing, mashed potatoes, and green beans. After dinner we headed to the Epic Theater to watch the 9:30 show.
It was Sally and Rich's chance for a payback on yesterday's bus picture. After a day of fresh air and adventure with a whole lot of food and drinking, we were beat.
Morale of the story: Never take a picture that you do not want to see again... the next time you see it may be you.
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