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View from my hotel
Sea and sand holidayThursday, October 5
I arrived in
Torremolinos well after lunch and was ready for a meal about 4 – 4:30. I walked along the promenade for fresh air and to find a restaurant. At the first one, it was both too late and too early to eat. At the second one, Rancho Maritimo, the waiter said “of course” to my request for a menu. The beer was sharp but heavy. I chose hake steak, which was very fresh and deep fried. (Later I saw this dish spelled at various restaurants as
hake , hacked, haked, and hack.) The accompanying French fries were marvellously fat, cooked in olive oil. Spanish onions and tomato were the attractive fresh garnish.
I picked up sangria and water on the way back to the hotel.
Friday, October 6
The breakfast buffet consisted of various breads (crusty rolls, soft “maria” cookies, dried out bread/toast, brown bread, dark brown rye bread, French bread), butter, apple and peach jams, plain and strawberry yogurt, various dried cereals, various preserved fruits (mainly canned), apples and oranges, sliced sausage, ham and cheese, hot cereal, granola, scrambled egg (from dehydrated?), boiled eggs, European wieners, fried dough, powdered
Traditional finery
Flamenco, Torremolinos juices and coffee (dark and delicious!). I took a couple of pieces of bread, a selection of fruit, fat tasty prunes, strawberry yogurt, ham and cheese, and coffee. I also took a piece of fruit and a few cookies for mid-morning, even though there’s a sign that says anything taken out must be paid for. They haven’t stopped me yet.
I got caught out of sync again with service hours for lunch/supper, so I just strolled up the promenade again. I stopped at a beach restaurant. I ordered beer and calamari, which came unadorned by any vegetable. There was lots of delicious bread, a tasty, tender, fresh version of French bread. Thoroughly enjoyable. A man played three songs on a guitar. He came around collecting tips. I put in 100 pesetas, thinking he would play some more, but he didn’t.
I wanted a glimpse of night life, so I went up to
Calle San Miguel , the main tourist mall. It was fun to see the bright lights and people milling about. Lots of ice cream shops (heladeria) competed with bars, all with outdoor tables (also some indoors). The ice cream confections were pictured for easy selection. Each must have
Fiery romance
Flamenco, Torremolinos had a few thousand calories.
For supper I yielded mildly to the pastry temptation – a relatively unsweet cinnamon bun, and some very soft blue cheese. Also, some green grapes. These I bought in town and brought to the room to eat while gazing at the sunset over the sea.
My one organized tour was in the evening, a visit to a Flamenco club. Background music lulled me into the atmosphere of romance and intimacy. When the professional dancers came onto the wood floor, their stomping heels, clicking castanets and swishing skirts got my heart pounding. The exquisite fiery artistry of the hard steps and sinuous body movements spoke of the deep history of the dance. Saturday, October 7
This morning it was time to sample the wares of the upper town. A cliff somewhat separated the tourist town from the sea-side promenade. For those who needed it, an elevator connected the two, and a pathway led to shops clinging to the almost perpendicular cliff.
Money woes forced me into paying 8 percent commission on a $50 travellers’ cheque, but then I was free to go back to the improbably named “Viking” restaurant.
Torremolinos hotel
Beach hotels are the economy. About half the restaurants were improbably named, because they were trying to entice tourists of various nationalities into establishments faintly representing those at home. (If they are like me, they rarely go into the restaurants at home anyway.)
The terrace of the Viking restaurant was invitingly located on a wedge-shaped lot. The tables had red cloths with white cloths overlayed corner-wise. The menu was printed in many languages. Most waiters and others servers seemed to prefer tourists to speak in their own languages. Probably it was tiring to interpret their many fractures of the Spanish language.
Several patrons were enjoying long leisurely chats over their lunches, especially two women friends. While I was eating, they ordered another bottle of wine, to extend their conversation. Their obvious enjoyment underlaid my own.
My lunch was à la carte. The gazpacho soup was divine – a subtle, startlingly fresh cocktail of vegetables, not bitter and freezing cold like one I made once. The “Viking Salad” was a huge collation of lettuce, beets, fresh pickled cucumber, shaved carrots (which a fly enjoyed so I didn’t touch), a stalk of asparagus (canned not fresh). My final course was a shrimp omelet in
Storm advancing
Mediterranean Sea memory of Thailand, where the scrambled eggs had shrimp. These shrimps were tiny, and the eggs deep yellow. Olive oil gave it a substantial taste. All of this was brought together by a fine bottle of house white wine – one of the super-dry whites, I guess. I liked it. Lunch took 1 ½ hours, and every minute deserved.
On the way back, I bought some Swiss cheese and a bun, and “marias” for the coming bus trip to Morocco. I eventually ate the bun and finished the grapes, but could not face more protein.
View map of trip to date.
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Isabel Gibson
non-member comment
You must have taken great notes: your memories as presented here are delightfully vivid. Thanks for the taste of Spain without the jet lag.