Advertisement
Published: January 23rd 2006
Edit Blog Post
Courtyard - Hotel Acacias
The scent of the oranges permeated the air on this warm iberian evening. DAY 1 Sunday 1st May 2005
My Travel Web Page Now this was the first time I had booked a flight anywhere on the internet.
It seemed so easy back in Vancouver to buy a ticket from Gatwick to Malaga
on EasyJet.com. 46 UK pounds return. I booked In January for a May 1st flight. However, about a week after the booking was confirmed I cancelled my return date and chose another. An almost fatal mistake as I found out on my arrival at the EasyJet booking counter. Amidst a nosy throng of holidaymakers
most of whom were lining up behind me, the ground steward said:
"I have no listing for you sir. You haven't booked a flight for today."
He said this in such an easygoing tone that It didn't register so I replied,
"Good. Do you have a window seat?" His assistant, a Spice girl double,
offered me a broad smile and said, "But you can buy a ticket now for 140 pounds" Suddenley I clued in, and said, "But I bought a ticket on the internet
in January and paid by credit card." They both huddled over their computer screen and started talking under their breaths, and then popped up
and unanimously agreed they would have to call the manager.
So I was shuffled off to one side where I waited for the manager.
He suddenley popped out from behind a blue curtain like a punch and Judy puppet. "How can I help you sir?" He grinned. I explained the situation
in detail and he said, "I will have to talk to the controllers" And he disappeared
behind the blue curtain. Ten minutes later he popped out again,
and said "You must have entered your booking dates incorrectly.
All we can do is credit you for the 46 pounds which will go towards the cost of a ticket today. So you'd pay 94 pounds plus taxes. Best we can do I'm afraid."
I had no choice but to fork out the money. As a consolation prize I was looking forward to a nice meal and a beer on the plane but EasyJet.com is a "no frills" flight. (BYOS) Bring Your Own Sandwickes. However the rest of the
trip was easy..
The flight to Malaga took just under 3 hours. We approached this coastal city from the north
and took in spectacular views of the countryside and the Mediterranean coastline all the way
down to Gibraltar. Malaga is the gateway to southern Spain and North Africa. On landing we taxied promptly to our exit gate, and walked for about 5 minutes to the customs booth. Two custom officers checked documents very carefully.
Total time from plane to terminal building was 20 minutes. The baggage carousel was full
by the time I got there and then I grabbed my daypack and backpack and headed for the
bus stop directly outside. Weather: Humid, hot 23C. Prior to leaving Canada I had searched the net for a clean looking and budget conscious hotel anywhere in Malaga,. I found the Acacias Hotel, located on the main road in the eastern side of the city, but one block from the beach. The bus was the cheapest way to get there. I caught the #19 from the airport (1 euro every half hour)) to central Malaga where all the buses congregate around two blocks of shaded treed traffic islands on the Alameda Principal. (Use MapQuest to get directions). At Alameda Principal I asked for directions (in Spanish) to the number 11 bus to "Elcano-Acacias". This is the name of the bus stop.
This task was quite confusing since the Alameda Principal is full of buses of all the same colour
and parked on both sides of the street. However one bus driver spoke good pigeon english
and gave me excellent directions to the bus in front of his. (Cost 1 Euro) We travelled east along Alameda Principal which runs into Avd San Sabastian. Part of the route ran beneath a canopy of leafy trees. And
I had a uninterrupted view of the Mediterranean beaches. The sidewalks beneath the trees on the promenade along the alameda Principal were polished marble, which gave me the impressiion I was walking on rather expensive floors. I watched young Spanish couples, oblivious to the conventions of propriety. splayed across park benches, locked in the erotic embraces of first love, reminding us all of its passion. I had only been in Malaga an hour, and my observations had triggered a relaxed and, yes, a romantic mood. Too bad Sybil wasn't here.
The bus stopped across the street from the Acacias Hotel. Sheltered beneath a grove of orange trees stood this rather gaudy ochre painted colonial style building with an ornate staircase sweeping down from the second floor. Reminded me of a Southern Belles' plantation mansion. I knocked on the bevelled
glass double doors because it felt like I was intruding into someones private residence. I was greeted by a
tall, elegant woman with perfectly coiffed grey hair, wearing a shimmering metallic dress.
A Rothmans Super King encased in an obsidian cigarette holder burned furiously between her teeth. She invited me to sit in a comfortable wicker chair beside a massive oak desk that may have once belonged to Franco himself. In broken English, she asked me for my name and credit card, which she entered painstakingly into the computer. This lady conveyed such an air of nobility that I suspected she must be the owner of the place and the regular receptionist had booked sick. She handed me the key to a room on the 2nd floor and pointed to the outside staircase. The room was on the north side of the house
(I couldn't call it a hotel) which overlooked the courtyard. The room was sparsely, but comfortably furnished with a TV, two twin beds, a phone table, a bedside table, and a rather antiquitated miniature Queen Anne chair,that seemed designed for much smaller bottoms than mine. But the window views,
one from a narrow hallway, and another from the bathroom into the rear courtyard, were rewarding. I took a photo of the courtyard for you to enjoy as well. (Gallery).
The bathroom was equipped with a sink and walk-in shower, both of which were extremely clean. I changed into my birthday suit and jumped in. The water pressure was great and the temperature was just right. I kept the window to the courtyard open to let the steam out, and also enjoyed the view at the same time. The window was high enough to ensure privacy. Later I changed into fresh clothes and set off to explore further. All the floors in the house were tiled, and very clean. The upstairs hall was decorated with tall plants and colonial style furnishings. At the bottom of the staircase I turned left and walked to the east side of the house.I found a small detached one room building equipped with three computer terminals. A notice read "For the benefit of the guests". So I sent an e-mail to my family. Then I walked to the rear courtyard where I found several patio tables and chairs, and an orange tree heavy with fruit. The scent of the oranges permeated the air of this iberian evening . A small restaurant stood behind the orange tree you see in the photo. I checked the menu and all the dishes were moderately price
(15-20 Euro) and mainly consisted of fish dishes. It opened at 5:pm and closed at 11:pm.
I decided to seek out a grocery store and pick up some local produce, olives, cheese, tomatoes,
baguettes, wine, to make my own meal. Five blocks east of the hotel I found a supermarket and purchased all I needed for a scrumptious picnic. ( Cost 8 euro!) All spanish supermarkets carry liquor, unlike our Canadian stores. I returned to the hotel where I tucked into an iberian picnic while I watched the
news in Spanish. My Spanish skills were lacking, so a picture spoke a thousand spanish words.
After dinner, in the cool of the evening, I took a stroll along the broad promenade that runs several miles westward to central Malaga, and parallels the sandy beaches. In the two miles that I walked I passed dozens of waterfront cafes. Since it was early evening only a few people were eating or drinking. Others had started up barbecues on the beach, and several families were huddled around beach fires. However, I only saw one or two people swimming, although the attraction of the water, gently lapping along the
coastline, was very appealing. Later I retuned to the hotel and checked my e-mail. The computer room was occupied by three young German women. We struck up a conversation, and they were all travelling
separately in the Malaga area. One of them had already visited Holland, France and Belgium. By 10pm
my strength was waning so I crashed out for the night.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.2s; Tpl: 0.02s; cc: 11; qc: 48; dbt: 0.1197s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb