“Seedy Picnic Area for Disoriented Tourists”

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First up this morning is a long steep hike down the cliff and back up the other side to the tourist train stop for a ride out to the Nerja Caves. Well actually that was the second hike for the day. The first one was two kilometres each way horizontally and what felt like a similar distance vertically in a quest for toilet paper. Now our very nice apartment has most things that open and shut, and these are listed in a very detailed 50 item long “inventory” of things that should be here … and if any of them aren’t still here when we leave …. well I get the impression that this wouldn’t end well for us. Hopefully we’ll be let off with a warning if the “hand soap x 2” and “rubbish bags” (number unspecified) aren’t quite as we found them. We’ve often had trouble in the past with accommodation that provides clothes lines, particularly in cases where these hang out over bottomless chasms ... these almost invariably never have any pegs. But no problem here, there are pegs, all seven of them, although I‘m not sure exactly why these aren’t on the inventory. Anyway, we discovered at about ten o’clock last night that the owners hadn’t thought to leave us any toilet paper, which seemed a bit strange … although it too wasn’t on the inventory … and despite an extensive search of the tiny bathroom we also didn’t seem to be able to locate a toilet roll holder. So it seemed there was a slightly alarming pattern developing here. So maybe it's a bidet we should be looking for - they used to be a southern European thing didn’t they? But no, no luck there either, not even under the bed … or in the dishwasher, which we knew because we’d already looked in there for the toilet paper. All very strange.

The little red tourist train is very cute and winds its way through the backstreets of Nerja and up along the four or so kilometre route to the caves. I read that these were only discovered relatively recently in 1959 when five young lads found their way in through a sinkhole. The system is around five kilometres long, only a fraction of which is open to the public. It’s apparently particularly notable for having reputedly the longest stalactite in the world at a staggering 32 metres. In 2012 it was announced that what are thought to be Neanderthal cave paintings were found here, dating back 42,000 years …. so it seems perhaps the five lads weren’t the caves’ first human visitors. It’s also said to possibly be part of a cave system that extends for fifty kilometres or so all the way north to Granada, which would then apparently make it the longest undiscovered cave system in Europe. “Huh?” says Issy. “How can anything that hasn’t been discovered yet claim to be anything?” I think we’ve been spending too much time together.

The main chamber is massive, but is perhaps a bit underwhelming, mainly because it’s so dimly lit. I feel like I’m stumbling up and down stairs in the dark - a real accident waiting to happen. Oh well, I guess they can put aside whatever they’re saving in electricity costs to settle the lawsuits. There seem to have been a lot of rockfalls, although maybe gravity works a bit differently down here - most of the blocks of stalactites sitting on the floor are at angles a long way from the vertical. I hope no one was lurking under any of those when they gave way.

Back in our now toilet paper rich apartment, and Issy asks me where we’ll be dining tonight. I don’t normally read the Google restaurant reviews, but it seems there’s one establishment down on Burriana Beach that might best be avoided. It‘s got 2.8 stars whilst everything around it’s got at least 4. Comments include “the bald owner is a very careful scoundrel” (not sure quite what being bald’s got to do with it, but anyway), “bad, except the tablecloths which are white”, “highly not recommended”, and my personal favourite “seedy picnic area for disoriented tourists”.

We take a very pleasant quiet evening stroll along the beach, and up through the town to the Balcón de Europa. Issy hasn’t seen any of this before and it seems to be taking a hold of her. She says we’ll be coming here for at least two weeks next year, and a few minutes later I spot her gazing longingly at the ads in the real estate agent’s window.

Back on the beach and the Google reviews seem to be working. Senor 2.8 stars is a largish establishment, but tonight it looks more than a tad on the empty side. We take our seats in the much fuller establishment next door where we enjoy an excellent meal of octopus, which we can see being grilled over an open fire, washed down by cervezas and a jar of sangria. Issy says this is perfection and it’s hard to disagree.

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Comments

[RENanDREW]

"octopus, which we can see being grilled over an open fire, washed down by cervezas and a jar of sangria"
I can only dream of the warm evening this was enjoyed in. I really shouldn't read your blogs on miserably cold grey winter afternoons...I'm getting extremely jealous, and you need to stop! Only kidding, enjoy your lovely Spanish holiday to the fullest!