Monday, 24 May 2010

It smells of orange blossoms. It’s a strong, sweet smell. It pervades every corner, every nook and cranny, filling the houses through the doors and windows. It’s a delicate yet strong smell, bringing along an old legacy that’s been with the inhabitants of this land since time immemorial. Pizarra lies right in the middle of the Garden of Eden: meadows, fruit trees, the typical Valle del Guadalhorce picture. The lemon and orange trees have already borne fruit, and now their spring sequel remains: orange and lemon blossoms, like the call of the past. They trail after me, captivating me with their smell –the essence of Pizarra.

The Church and the Palace

The longish cobblestone streets have just been developed. The town is relatively new; it became a municipality in 1847. Therefore, it has nothing to do with those Andalusian villages with a stronger Arab legacy, whose layout grows in a labyrinthine fashion. I drove into the town centre and parked on one of the main streets, Málaga Street, opposite the Town Hall and by the town square, dominated by two tall palm trees. The stone benches lining the square feature tiles showing images of the different districts that make up Pizarra: Zalea, Cerralba, Gibralmora, Barriada Hipólito. The centre was busy, people coming and going, chatting, shopping, laughing, and so on… The typical atmosphere of a town that is alive and kicking. From the town square I took San Pedro Street and went down to Puerta de la Guardia Street, where the Church of San Pedro Apóstol is. The houses –most of them two-storey buildings– plunged into the shade just behind their hallways. The courtyards were populated with shadows bringing some cool to playing kids and old ladies trimming lemon trees. The windows were protected by black wrought-iron grilles, and so were most balconies, coyly leaning on the street. I turned left to find the door to the church. It was a simple temple, with a red-trimmed door below a skylight letting the sun in. A wall tile read, “A single-nave Mudéjar construction built in the seventeenth century right where Diego Romero, the founder of Pizarra, had the town’s first church built in the fifteenth century. It was renovated in the nineteenth century, when it was endowed with a new door, and stained glass and rose windows brought from Zaragoza which can still be seen.” Adjoining the church there’s a manicured garden whose stone benches make a great place to sit in the fresh air. Next to the garden, there’s the Palace of the Counts of Puerto Hermoso –a huge mansion with a touch of the Americas surrounded by a garden and high walls preventing onlookers from taking a peek inside. What can be seen is two palm trees and two main towers. The palace has a complex outline: roofs and roofs at different heights, crenelated terraces affording views of the outside world… And here again, the palace was built in the early twentieth century upon the ruins of Diego Romero’s home. It was here that King Alfonso XIII spent the night of May 2, 1921. One year later, the palace housed the Government Conference on the Moroccan War.

The Convent

I strolled up Real Street, taking in some fresh air from the open courtyards. I felt as if I was being looked at, watched, scrutinised. It was the effect of “El Santo,” a huge sculpture of the Sacred Heart on Sierra de Gibralmora which can be accessed on foot (more about this later). I walked past the town square and up Alta Street to the Convent of the Sisters of the Cross. The convent looked just like one more house in town with one distinctive feature: a wall tile telling its history. The tile read, “old convent of the Dominican Mothers founded in Pizarra by Pedro Soto Domecq, Count of Puerto Hermoso. Opened in 1955, it is famous for the fine Plateresque altarpiece in its chapel.” I was standing there, hesitating, when a woman approached me and asked, “Would you like to get in?” “Of course I would,” I replied. She stepped forward, rang the bell, and a nun showed up. She was wearing humble clothes. The sister, who was chatty and smiley, let us in. The convent had all the characteristics it’s usually associated with in popular imagination. It was quiet, simple, clean, and secluded. Its hall was dominated by a painting of its founder, St Angela, a.k.a. “Madre Angelita.” I had a long talk with Sister María del Camino, who told me the convent was full of life, welcoming children for extracurricular activities and housing seven nuns who paid visits those in need. “Even if it’s just company they need,” she added. She took me to the chapel, where I saw the Plateresque altarpiece mentioned in the wall tile outside. I exchanged a few more words with Sister María del Camino and went out.

Raja Ancha

I strode up Real Street and across Barrio Alto, then down Rosales Street and Fuertecillo Street to come to the Raja Ancha recreational area. It’s a large park reaching the first mountain slopes. In Raja Ancha you’ll find fountains, wooden tables and benches, barbecues, etc. The “Raja Ancha” (wide crack) the park owes its name to is in the upper part –a natural cleft in the rock to which a carved flight of steps had been added for visitors to reach the scenic viewpoint. Which is what I did. I saw two teenagers sitting on a bench and asked them how to get to the viewpoint. “To the viewpoint? It’s a five minutes walk,” they replied. In fact, it was five times three, but never mind. Climbing was easy, for I just had to follow the directions along the way. The rocky mound amazed me: the rocks were standing on one another with no other joint than their weight. The shady cleft looked disturbing but stimulating. I plunged into the darkness with mixed feelings. Although I was in a steadfast world of stone, I looked up at the flagstones up above my head and felt all that was solid melting into air. I went across the cleft without uttering a single word and climbed up the flight of steps, back to the sheltering sky at the viewpoint. I caught a partial glimpse of Pizarra’s centre. I drank some water, took a couple of pictures… I’d been told that the trail from here to “El Santo” commanded stunning views. It’s a clearly-signposted uphill trail with a mild slope, and it takes one hour and a quarter to complete. I took note for my next visit, for I still had to take a look at a few of Pizarra’s sights. I returned to Málaga Street, where my car was parked.

The Chapel

The chapel can be reached on foot. Except for a short climb at the end, the road is flat –a dirt trail that can be easily negotiated. You can also come by car. Either way, you have to take Ermita Street from Málaga Street and then Camino de la Ermita, also leading to Vega de Santa María. Along the way –along Pizarra’s highest streets in the first part– you’ll come across the Scenic Viewpoint of Algarrobo Centenario, offering amazing views of the fruit tree groves all around the town. But the real gem along this trail is the chapel itself. Carved out of the rock, the temple features a soaring deep-red and white front, two roofs that bring the building out. “This chapel dates back to the sixteenth century. It’s partly excavated out of the rock, standing on the foundations of an older, thirteenth-century Mozarabic church. Its present façade in the neo-Gothic style and marble altar were added in the early twentieth century. Its dedication of Our Lady of Fuente Santa has to do with the water spring that emerged when it was being built.” Moreover, this chapel has hermits: Josefa and Ángel have lived in a house next to it for 20 years. They take care of the religious building. They told me that, in the summer, locals come at dawn and sit outside trying to breathe in some fresh air and catch the pervading smell of orange blossoms. Josefa and Ángel were cheerful and talkative. I stayed with them for a while, feeling their kindness and enjoying their stories.


Leaving Pizarra behind, I drove amidst the valleys peppered with charming fruitless orange trees. Their blossoms were swaying in the breeze, their smell sticking to my car, my clothes, my hair. It was a sweet yet strong, volatile yet heavy smell. There was a poet once who said orange blossoms and nigh jasmines smelled like smothered flowers. Obviously, he’d never been to Pizarra in spring.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

What to see: Pizarra for archaeologists: There’re several traces of old Pizarra which expert eyes could translate into part of the old Castillejos de la Quintana on Quintana mountain, which provided an ideal defensive setting for a Mozarabic settlement; or the remains of the Arab Tower on Sierra de Gibralmora, which used to be part of the Muslim defence system along the Guadalhorce Valley; or a prehistoric burial site in the area known as Castillejos de Luna (about ten graves dating back to the Bronze Age); or the “Bañaero de la Reina,” that is, the place where, according to popular tradition, the Moor Queen used to take baths (although in fact it’s a Roman pool).
Useful links: The following websites I’ve used when planning my trip to Pizarra: Costa del Sol Tourist Board, Pizarra Tourist Board, Pizarra Town Hall, and Valle del Guadalhorce Rural Development Group.

Comments, suggestions, and opinions from travellers/ visitors to this blog are very welcome. See you under the Bright Blue Sky.


Tuesday, 18 May 2010

Málaga paints its fields dark green. Green that feeds on the latest rain, adding colour to the crops and a glitter to the little lakes. Green that blends with the wet ochre earth while the rivers and streams roar at their most glorious. I’m driving across the Guadalhorce Valley –a land of contrasts– to get to the region of Guadalteba, which Arriate is part of. I’m leaving the corn fields and the rolling hills behind –an ocean made of earth. I’m bobbing my way across Serranía de Ronda: granite masses, cork oaks, holm oaks, olives, sinks and peaks, peculiar mountains. Arriate lies in one of these valleys, in the shelter of the sierras.

In Arriate

Arriate’s name in Arabic was “Arriadh,” meaning “The Gardens.” The village’s old dwellers were right: Arriate lies in one of the lowland of Serranía de Ronda like the Garden of Eden, gardens and fields and corn and fruit trees all around. Until 1630, this village was overshadowed by Ronda, to which it was annexed. The villagers paid 352,739 reales for their independence. And they really deserved it, for the town has an atmosphere of its own, a bunch of unique features that needed to unfold on their own. Although it’s quite high, Arriate is almost flat, lying deep behind the City of the Gorge. Strolling along its streets or hiking down its trails are both very pleasant experiences, depending on whether you prefer tougher challenges or more relaxed excursions. I’m choosing the latter today, so I’ll take my stroll easy as I look at some of the remarkable wooden house doors, which are said to be the most beautiful craft work in town. I’m going deep into Arriate now.

The Church of San Juan de Letrán

The belfry tower of the Church of San Juan de Letrán is a reference point no-one can miss –a sort of giant GPS device. Willowy and strong, the soaring three-structure tower stands against the bright blue sky. I’ll use it as my reference, this and the sign indicating where the town centre is. I parked near the church, got ready, and got off my car. I walk down Calle Juela (an amazing pun, for “callejuela” means “alley” in Spanish) towards Plaza de D. Antonio Marañón, where the church is. The square is a small secluded place dominated by a single wrought-iron lamppost and featuring a few benches. It feels good. I can hear someone singing a song by the legendary Andalusian rock band Triana: “Cada noche mi vida es para ti/como un juego cualquiera/y nada más/porque a mí me atormenta en el alma/tu frialdad” (“Every night is for you/like any other game/and nothing more/for my soul is tortured/by your being so cold”). Inside, the church is simple: just a nave and a series of nice stained glass windows letting the sunlight in. The temple is modern and its altar, sober. There’re three religious images on each side. There’re fervent devotees in Arriate. So much so that their Easter celebrations were designated as a Fiesta of National Tourist Interest in Andalusia in 2001 for being “deeply rooted in old traditions, highly original,” and for including “multiple celebrations that express genuine traditional values,” I can read in a plate at the entrance.

Along the River Guadalcobacín

Skirting the church to the right, I’m walking down Correderas Street. I notice the clay plates bearing images of the village. I get to Plaza de la Residencia, where there’s a residential home for the elderly founded by the blessed Mother Petra de San José in 1900. The residence features a cloister-like central courtyard whose four palm trees lend it a West Indies accent. On the left wing there’s the chapel, identifiable from the outside by its belfry tower, with two bells hanging in it. Facing the residential home, I take the street to the right. It leads to 1º de Mayo Bridge over the river Guadalcobacín. It’s a coquettish bridge, with two little balconies leaning on the river on both banks. Then I come to Plaza de la Aurora –a pleasantly cool place where I can hear the ceaseless murmur of the river and whose whitewashed stone benches are brimming with flowers. I read about the auroreros in a clay plate: The aurora is the oldest and most popular religious tradition in Arriate. Every Sunday at dawn, a group of men –known as ‘auroreros’– go about singing coplas and playing their guitars, cymbals, and triangles. (...) Born in the countryside, in the valley of the river Gudalcobacín, the tradition reached the village itself as a tribute to Our Lady of the Rosary, the Patroness of Arriate. Now, in October, the auroreros go about town on Sunday mornings saying the rosary and singing ‘La Aurora.’ Their coplas or verses end with a cry: ‘¡Ave María Purísima!’.” Strolling down Huerto Street, I can feel the smell of embers –a sweet yet strong smell fighting for a place into my nose with those of the stews and casseroles that are being prepared in many of the homes. I notice the grilles in doors and windows. They are a hallmark of Arriate. Some feature intricate filigrees. I amble along another bridge along the Guadalcobacín and climb a flight of steps leading to a square dominated by a huge centuries-old tree. I just ramble around, exchanging kind greets with locals. “Good morning!,” “Good afternoon!,” “Hi, there!” seem to be in the tip of their tongue all the time. In Café Albarra, some men are chatting in the shade. In Café Paquito, another group of men are discussing football issues. The women, on the other hand, can’t stay put. They go from one shop to the next carrying their shopping bags, stopping for a short exchange with a neighbour, then moving on. Although it’s only 5 kilometres from Ronda, Arriate’s managed to keep the essence of a small neighbourhood, which makes you feel at home. Some homes in the older part of town house pork product factories on the ground floors. Arriate’s cold meats are much appreciated, for the climate of the sierras favours the curing of hams, chorizos, black puddings, blood sausages, salted meat, and the like. Alongside these traditional establishments, there’re more modern plants with larger premises. I order a late coffee at a bar (€1.10), scribbling on my travel journal as I drink.


Sitting in Parque de la Aurora, I admire its smooth shapes against the wild horizon and the solemn mountains. Arriate is a haven of peace and tranquillity moving to the rhythm of its river: curing homemade cold meats in the harshness of winter, feeling the smell of embers in spring, and so on. But it’s in the season of deep green when the village is at its peak, when the meadows make the white houses look even brighter. Ah! Being so broody has made me hungry. I’ll buy some homemade bread and cold meats to swallow by the river.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

What to see: Fiesta de la Vieja (Lent Festival): This festival, held since the early twentieth century, is rooted in the tradition known as partir la vieja, which meant taking a break off the harsh principles of Lent according to the Catholic Church. There’s wine, ring-shaped buns, hard-boiled eggs, salmorejo, sweet lemons, wine doughnuts, and pork products for everyone.
Easter: Holy Week is also a major event in Arriate. In 2001 it was designated as a Fiesta of National Tourist Interest in Andalusia. For more information about Holy Week in Arriate, click here.
What to do: Hiking: Arriate’s wonderful natural setting, the plains between Sierra de las Salinas and Sierra de las Cumbres, affords hikers several remarkable routes. Most of them are across the meadows of Serranía de Ronda, with maximum heights of 500 or 600 metres and varying degrees of difficulty. There’s, for instance, the Route to the Bridge of La Ventilla, past the natural area of Arroyo Oscuro, or the Route to Montejaque, a.k.a. Ribera de Don Rodrigo. You can even get to the Acinipo Roman ruins.
Useful links: My sources of information for this trip to Arriate have been the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Arriate Town Hall.

Comments, suggestions, and opinions from travellers/ visitors to this blog are very welcome. See you under the Bright Blue Sky.


Tuesday, 11 May 2010

Legend has it that, in the times of the Arabs, on new moon days, when the sky is pitch-dark and darkness is only pierced by the twinkle of the stars, an astronomer would climb up the highest tower in the castle. From the tower, he’d point his primitive telescope at the constellation Argo Navis, scanning the sky as patiently as wise men can. On one of these nights, the astronomer spotted a bluish wink, a modest twinkle, a tremor in the sky. We was looking at a little star, Sohail. Excited, he ran where the Emir was and told him about his discovery. Since then, the little village where the castle was –a fishing village which the Phoenicians used to call “Suel”– was called “Sohail.” It kept this name for 800 years, until sailors from Genoa gave it a new name, but that’s another story. And I’ll tell it to you later.


It’s windy today. The sea foams, tossing the sand on the beach. Fuengirola, a city facing the sea, claims the wind’s embrace and lets the breeze in, so that its streets get filled with the strong smell of salt residue and wetlands, and with the whining of old songs that the Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, Arabs, and Christians heard before us. It’s a strange day; life whirls around and passers-by smile at the breeze of sun and salt. Fuengirola is a small, welcoming town. Only 10 square kilometres and beaches that are 8 kilometres long. It’s easy to understand why the town is narrow, elongated. There’s a parking system in shifts that favours car flow. Be sure you’re acquainted with hours and fees before coming (Mon-Fri 9:30 a.m.-2:00 p.m. and 4:30-9:00 p.m.; Sat 9:30 a.m.-2:00 p.m.; 30’ €0.40, 60’ €0.85, 120’ €2, 180’ (max.) €3.15; afternoons, Sundays and public holidays, free). I left my car near the marina after estimating how long I’d stay and paying the parking fee. Then, my tour began.

The Port of Fuengirola

I’ve said it already: it’s a special day today. The otherwise quiet Mediterranean Sea is rough –an unusual show put up by nature. From the port, I stared at the indomitable, magnetic waves thumping against the breakwater, splashing foam on it and me. I could feel the particles of the atomised sea. The halyards hit the masts of ships in a sort of unfinished symphony. The Port of Fuengirola was built on lands literally claimed from the sea. Rectangular in shape, it’s sheltered by a huge exterior wall that is also a breakwater. To the east there’s the marina; the fishing port takes the middle and the west. On the central lane of the dry dock, which separates both areas, there’re creels, fishnets, lines and floats. The ships are docked today, clinging to their berths. I think of the sailors from Genoa in the fifteenth century, of how they sailed their way across this sea. They came in vessels they called “girolas,” and so they called the port “Fuente de las Girolas.” In popular speech, the phrase became “Fuengirola,” and this is what this town is known as today. Another interesting word story: The Genoese used to call little fish “boliches,” and the named a district in town after them: “Santa Fe de los Boliches.” The boats are docked, a little cramped, rocking, like frightened colts ready to run away. Santa Gema, Hermanos Sánchez, Maricarmen, Los Galdeanos, Emilio Pomaire... These are some of the names I can read. They all bear reference to Our Lady of El Carmen, the Patroness of seafarers. Her festival is held in July to great excitement: images, paintings, drawings… Just like the Romans called on Neptune. In the marina, the yachts are docked in their jetties, surrounded by a wide array of restaurants, bars, and pubs. There’re lots of sea-related activities to engage in: boat rides, fish or bird watching, sport fishing, and even adrenaline-boosting sports. In addition, the Fuengirola Yacht Club ( has a sailing school offering windsurf, optimist, small sailboat, and mini cruise sailing training. There’re lots of choices at a wide range of prices. Go to the Town Hall website for more information.

The Sea Promenade

The ocean stands in sharp contrast to the soaring buildings, which look like a manmade breakwater or artificial cliffs. I walked westwards, towards the Sohail Castle, along the Sea Promenade –one of the longest and best equipped in Europe. Being 8 kilometres long, the promenade is a real mix of people, colours, smells, and flavours, never getting too far from the sea. The hotels, offering about 12,000 bed spaces, overlook the beaches, all of which boast EU Blue Flags for their top-quality water, sand, and services. The restaurants in the area serve international cuisine of all kinds, colours, and tastes, whereas at beach bars you can get what’s typical of Málaga’s coastal towns: pescaíto frito (fried fish), rice, and fish in salt. The sand resisted the pounding of the waves. Passers-by smiled at the show, feeling the atomised sea drops moist their faces. I walked at ease, enjoying every step I took. It’s a long stretch, but it’s so pleasant… There were ships and attractions everywhere, and there’re no slopes. Just let the promenade carry you. Every few metres I stepped down on the sand, hearing the ocean roar and feeling the cool water, which I loved. Then I resumed my walk down the promenade. On windy days, the stroll is great. Bikers and skaters are welcome too, for there’s a clearly signposted lane by the promenade. I could smell the sardine skewers and the charcoal-grilled fish, blended with water and sand and salt. It was a unique blend, a sort of hallmark of the coast of Málaga.

The Sohail Castle and Its Park

I reached the footbridge across the Fuengirola river, whose struts are another of Fuengirola’s icons. The castle is up a mound, overlooking the ocean in the distance. Groups of young people were having fun on the beach, accompanied by the faithful roaring sea. There’re two ways of getting to the castle. You can walk on along the promenade, around the mound, and across the woods at its foot, or you can go across the footbridge, turn right by the river, and look for the sign reading “Parque del Castillo” (“Castle Park”). I chose the former to go and the latter to return. The castle is surrounded by a park on whose grass you can lie and in whose terraces you can take a break. The park features the archaeological remains of a Phoenician burial site and what must have been the Roman town of Sual. The castle is accessed through the back door, so if the main door is open, you just have to skirt the fortress. Admission tickets are €3 for adults and €2 for kids. The castle is open Mon-Fri 10:00 a.m.-7:45 p.m. There was a wedding inside. The bride and groom were having pictures taken at the door, in the battlements, and in other charming places. The Sohail Castle has been built and destroyed more than once. First erected by the Phoenicians (adjoining a fish processing plant), it was also used by the Romans and the Arabs, and then in the Spanish War of Independence against the French army. Now it houses social events or cultural activities, including a medieval market drawing a high number of shoppers in mid August and featuring arts and crafts stands, food stalls, workshops, and other things in a real journey back in time. The castle affords fabulous views of the centre of Fuengirola to the east, with Mijas Pueblo in the background, and the most glorious Mediterranean to the west. I took a look at the battlements, got a couple of photos taken by the cannons, took a seat, took a look at Mare Nostrum, and breathed in the salty air brought to me by the breeze.


Although I still have a few sights to see, several hours had passed and I needed my lunch. So I stopped for it. I’d seen a restaurant and bar by the Sea Promenade which served roast fish in salt –Restaurante Bar Playa Antonio–, and I didn’t give it a second thought. The menu included many types of fish, seafood, and rice. I ordered 2 bottles of water, a 300ml beer, a pepper salad (€6), pil-pil prawns (€7.80), marinated dogfish (€6.80), gilthead bream (€22.26), and 1 ice-cream. The bill = €51.44. They show you your fish (in my case it was gilthead bream, but it could have been sea bass, red bream, or any other) before cooking it and, of course, they cook it on the spot. I talked my way down the appetizers, half sheltered from the sun. When my fish was ready, my waiter, Rafael, showed the crust of salt on a wood box. He removed the salt, boned the gilthead bream, and brought it to the table. It was delicious, and so was my chat too. I really enjoyed my lunch, which gave me the necessary strength to keep going.

More of Fuengirola

Walking was my choice in Fuengirola. And it was the right choice, for here you can get almost everywhere on foot with a little energy. Both the town streets and the beach are stimulating. If you’re coming with kids, don’t miss Parque del Poniente, near the Sohail Castle. It’s a playground with ship-shaped swings and slides: galleons, caravels, and the like. The undulating blue floor resembles the ocean. There’s even a lighthouse-bar where you can have a snack. From this park down Condes de San Isidro Avenue, you’ll get to Parque del Norte, where the Town Hall is. Next to the Town Hall building there’s the City History Museum. It was closed, even when the brochure said it was open Mon-Sun in the morning and the afternoon. A note at the door said the hours had changed: Tue-Sat 11:00 a.m.-1:00 p.m. Behind the Town Hall, on Camilo José Cela Avenue, there lies another of Fuengirola’s attractions: the zoo. Although it’s known by everyone as Fuengirola Zoo, it’s changed its name to Bioparc Fuengirola in March 2010. “Bioparc Fuengirola embraces a new zoo model based on respect of nature and the preservation of species. This model has been adopted all over Europe. Bioparc Fuengirola is a different zoo concept. It’s a park where animals live in their recreated habitats, which favours their development at all levels. Coming to Bioparc Fuengirola is like being in a documentary of tropical rain forests,” the zoo website reads. The zoo organises several activities, the most special of which are the guided tours by night. You can find detailed information on the zoo’s services, species, and habitats on its website. Admission tickets are €15.90 for adults and €10.40 for kids and seniors. Groups of over 25 visitors also get a discount. Tickets can be bought at the zoo or in hotels and travel agencies. Bioparc is open every day from 10:00 a.m. It’s the ideal place to watch plants and animals in open yet controlled environments.


I went back to the Sea Promenade, taking slow steps along the oldest alleys in town and already smelling the salty air in the breeze. Suddenly, I was facing the beach and the ocean. I took off my shoes and sat down. I let the Mediterranean wrap me up with its scents and flavours, feeling the salt on my skin. I smiled at the setting sun.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

When to come: Fuengirola’s calendar is packed with activities. There’re two, though, that you must attend: the Festival of Our Lady of the Rosary, and the International Fair of Nations.
What to see:
International Fair of Nations: Held in April or May since 1994, it’s become one of the major events on the Costa del Sol, drawing thousands of visitors every year. “Going around the world in four days is possible if you come to this fair. Contagious interactive music by native bands coming from their countries for the event, delicious food whose colours and flavours take you to distant lands and communities, exotic drinks, strong smells of faraway cultures…,” reads the Town Hall website. (The picture in this section has been taken from this source too.) Festival of Our Lady of the Rosary: Unfolding from October 6 to 22, this festival pays tribute to the Patroness and Eternal Mayoress of Fuengirola, Our Lady of the Rosary. Held at the local fairground, it brings the most deeply rooted Andalusian customs and traditions back to life in the forms of traditional foods and drinks, dancing and singing.
Useful links: Interesting sources for a tour of Fuengirola include the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Fuengirola Town Hall. To them we should add the website of Bioparc Fuengirola and a personal and service web page, Un Sol de Ciudad.

Comments, suggestions, and opinions from travellers/ visitors to this blog are very welcome. See you under the Bright Blue Sky.