Technical stuff ...

In case readers are confused by the random re-posting ... reviewing old posts revealed some spelling mistakes and other typos ... blogger may have a way to allow the post back in its proper place ... if so please comment with advice ... and on the subject of comments, do feel free to add your thoughts on the topic ...  the interactive internet is a game changer and collaborative creation is encouraged ... maybe move on to wiki working and be democratic !

Estepona ...

... is one of the more typically Andalusian towns on the Costa del Sol, said Tony, who lured me in to his ambiguously  named establishment, "The Spanish Estate Agent" .... with a combination of heavy showers and a longish wait for the return bus home from this rather awful town ... and the opportunity to research the Costa del Merde with the help of a local ... and since there were no other timewasters, your correspondent had his full attention, along with support from a friendly, female colleague ... she understood the requirement to be off the Costa, whereas Tony kept promoting its proximity as a plus .... good information, because it is important to understand other points of view and avoid judgement ... readers may have judged my occasional judgment  and found it rather jaundiced ... plenty more where that came from, the theme of Brits abroad has some way to go, whilst trying to avoid national self-hatred ... perhaps compassion is the goal, with a perception that separation serves none of us .... and today's snarky observation that the newspapers on sale are a good indication of the demographics of any area, be that UK or expat land .... round here the well known compassionate and liberal minded journal "The Daily Mail" prevails ... enough said ....

Back to Tony and his observation that Estepona is somehow authentically Andalusian .... and wondering at what stage authentic around here will be all those gated communities and their private security ... also if he is right then there is no need to go further north up the coast ... it's all relative and Estepona seemed soulless, albeit with shops ... sorry there are no photos ... those tasteless and ubiquitous urbanisations affront the lens ... the spring flowers up the track behind the casa are easier on the eye ... and San Enrique, in contrast to surrounding areas, is looking rather splendid ...

By bus to La Linea

If it's too far to walk, the bus is next favourite ... a chance to see the less direct route and to be in a public space ... the Land Rover does not really appeal, though will be handy for off-bus routes and dropping the rubbish (for friends used to having your rubbish collected at the the door this is one of the minor inconveniences of Andalucian life ... along with not flushing your toilet paper) ...

The Estepona to la Linea bus stops at the roundabout by the bridge, which is very handy for La Linea ... the return is slightly trickier, along with the Estepona trip, since the bus stand is not safe on the other side of the road at that point (though safe enough a little further along ...  these safety folk, however,have covered their backs and are not responsible for pedestrians' movements when not actually boarding or alighting buses).

La Linea has an interesting history, if not an ancient one ... its location at the junction of Gibraltar and Morocco making it a mecca for traders between three nations and their various customs ... when your blogger first visited Gibraltar it was closed at La Linea (which caused much economic upset to the town and created families separated by fences) ... the Spanish government resenting the presence of a foreign country on a small but strategic corner of their territory ... and the trip entailed a ferry via Tangier, which was far more interesting ... and evidence of the source of much contraband making its lucrative, if perilous, way to eager customers in Northern Europe.

Today's trip to La Linea made a change from the typical Costa towns ... somehow more authentic, with an indoor market, lots of shops and bars ... and a Tourist Information Centre staffed by the very friendly and helpful Raquel, giving me a break from my attempts to speak Spanish.

Reviewing the blog, it becomes clear that it misses the direct contact with friendly folks like Raquel ... all along the walking routes these images popped up ... not so much so far here ... with subjects rather reticent ... fewer subjects encountered ...

The writing itself is stuttering a little and, not being a serious writer, there is no urge to force it ...

Meanwhile, a call from England from Juliet's friends who know the villa well and are coming over in June for a while ... a break for your blogger, though who knows where ...?

exploring ...

After yesterday's loop east, north, east then south and back into San Enrique through the very opulent Club Ayala polo estate .... followed by a stroll into Torreguadiaro, a chat with Antonio at the beach .... a retired local looking for a chat and happy to indulge my attempts ... then back to Brit Breakfast Bar the Beach Box (though not actually on the beach) ... full of Spaniards enjoying Workers' Day ... back to San Enrique for more language practice at the bar where Gato enlists his pal Frank, the owner, who worked for eight years in London ...

... today's expedition is more ambitious .... east, north and up the track to gain a great view over the sea and Gibraltar ... with mountains further north, polo estates south and a path off the hill into Secadero for a coffee and three choices for the return trip: bus five minutes down the road, two and a half hours stroll back the same way or a swift walk along the rather risky road .. which takes forty minutes since the bus time is not entirely clear ...

This road through orange groves and polo fields has its hard shoulder line right on the side ... mostly cyclists and walkers have a metre or two to play with,which gives some chance even on the Route of Death... although this one is a little quieter, so feels safe enough as long as two vehicles are not approaching from opposite direction, in which case evasive action in the ditch must be considered!

Sunday stroll ...

Torreguadiaro is first stop ... coffee with breakfasting Brits and a 1.20 cafe con leche including the local English language rag ... a whimsical editor with some amusing stories ..,including some belated interest in a very OTT mansion once owned by a pop star recently deceased ... just 5.6m and a bargain if you share Prince's taste .... and have 5.6m of course ... in other news geriatric expats are terrorising the community with mobility scooters ...

Tempted by this off-road route, it's eastwards again and onto the beach, which is heavy going, then a nature reserve with a fine footpath to tempt Sunday strollers of all nationalities .... cyclists too, though the serious Spanish chaps are zooming along in lycra and peleton formation dominating the main road ... urban planning catching on to the idea that gated communities steal our souls and promoting public spaces in which to meet new people ... to exercise in the fresh air and sunshine ... radical stuff!

And having walked quite a way, tempted to catch the bus back ... the 240 from Estepona to La Linea stops right outside the brothel and the very pleasant driver is relaxed about running nearly 15 minutes late ...at 1.36 it's a bargain and another social good ... a chance to learn the language, see the passing scenery and leave the gas guzzling Land Rover at home ...

... the map is not the territory ...

... a favourite metaphor, it seems obvious, yet we clever humans so often forget ... and in the case of the walking routes hereabouts yesterday's wander eastwards, up the hill beside Miguel's brothel, promising a swift loop to San Enrique, soon finds fences east and south and a delightful lane north ... a couple of posh Fincas (and one derelict), one with signs of an imminent party with a massive marquee and sound systems set up ... heard nothing last night ... maybe tonight, we'll see ... anyway the range is expanding and that route gains height to give good aspects all round ... off road and inland, so excellent for coastal respite...and signs that the money penetrates inland...

After siesta, a wander into Guadiaro for a little shopping ... little and often in local shops enables language learning ... and not wishing to return the same way or via Sotogrande, go for the dual carriageway bridge, another amusingly designed walking route ... this time the hard shoulder, wide enough for comfort until the bridge itself, at which point it narrows alarmingly, with large lorries rather close for comfort ... never mind, there is a footpath and it is reached by climbing the double height crash barrier ... which reverts to single height at the slip road and back to the familiar roundabout route from Torreguadiaro ...

Realising the Costa is the main topic, the weekend walk is east along the beach, swimming shorts packed ... after a while the beach disappears, so it's up to the road ... this stretch is classic E.U. over-investment and a key driver of the great property boom/bust in these parts ... this road is single carriageway to Estepona, right along the coast ... parallel is the dual carriageway to Malaga and parallel again the toll road ... this theme is repeated along the Algarve ... where the toll road is mostly deserted in favour of the "Road of Death", which served your writer well last winter on the way to Cape Saint Vincent and the wonderful Rota Vicentina ....

Shortly after Torreguadiaro, a motor-home camping beach and a bar for coffee ... Andrea ("like Botticelli) is the co-owner, with his Spanish wife ... living the dream and inventing a name for the bar reflecting their shared language "Il Sono" ... looking like a good haunt for a pretentious writer and happy to pay 2 euros for the location (in the coffee economy that's double the price of cafe con leche compared to San Enrique).

Round the headland another pleasant surprise - a footpath to Manilva, around two hours off-road and one for further exploration ... on a slightly less pleasant note it became apparent that the sewage outflow at this point had underestimated currents, demand, or had just been bodged ... a shit slick ten metres out and maybe a hundred metres long decorated the otherwise undeveloped beach ...

... and so, avoiding this spot, at Torreguadiaro an overheated blogger strips off for the first sea swim of the year and very refreshing it was ... before heading back home via his favourite fruit and veg stall and a late lunch of pasta with red pepper, tomato and black olive sauce, in honour of the new Italian connection ... plus Placido Domingo on the hi-fi ...

In Britain meanwhile, another Bank Holiday ... good luck folks!

A short walk around hell ...

An early start enables reading and room clearing before setting off at 10.30, aiming to loop round Guardiaro, under the dual carriageway into Sotogrande and back through San Enrique ... short enough on the map and short enough in retrospect in linear time ... wandering in the hell realms, as is well known, stretches time out in order to prolong the agony ...

Development hereabouts has concentrated on the car-borne (leaving aside the yachties and helicopteristas for now) ... as roads were improved and pavements between settlements neglected, roadside properties were fenced, forcing pedestrians to risk life and limb ... occasional refuge may be found in the storm drains, which, due to the dry climate with occasional inundations, are mostly dry ... hardly encouraging ... this intrepid wanderer has persevered with the routes south and west, but desisted with the northern route to Secadero and Tessorrillo, which is a pity, because these respites from the coastal ghettos are required ... never mind, the Land Rover awaits! Off-road tracks await future exploration ... certainly look viable uphill eastwards then round into San Enrique.

Guadiaro is gained in twenty minutes ... across the bridge and a view of orange groves to the left and polo fields to the right ... up to the new town and the brief blessing of an unexpected pavement along the road under the dual carriageway linking the supermarket ... and the gated community of Sotogrande ... brief because it is a concrete cover over the storm drain and they abandon it round the corner and leave the hapless pedestrian in the ditch with a crash barrier to climb ... ohmming gently in order to acquire the invisibility cloak necessary for protection in the hell realms, your writer slips past the barrier along the cruelly ironically named Avenida Pan y Agua, with its lampost mounted sign imploring the citizenry to feed a child each day ... surreality surrounds and entertains for a while ... there is even a pavement as far as the church and shopping centre ... after that it disappears ... almost as if the architects and planners have studied these features and start to draw them, then lose interest when their clients roll their eyes at the naivete ...

Being a work-day, there is some activity from the servants ... it takes a lot of folks to look after the wealthy and their excessive lifestyles ... though strangely no dogs on guard ... perhaps the cameras and patrolling private army are enough ... it is warm and the roads are laid out like most such soullous suburbs, so rather confusing for vagrants ... and this one has no energy for photos ... barely caring to capture even the one at the marina ... and of course, all along the way, not a bench to be seen ... the odd passing jogger ignoring me, thanks either to the invisibility cloak or their noses being so far in the air that they saw only the sky ... finally an escape route ... a portal out of hell, albeit to the hellish time lock that is Torreguadiaro ... the twin towers subtly reminding inner city holidaymakers of home and the real and older Torre hardly meriting comment.

Sanity is restored at Anna's fruit and veg stall between the roundabouts on the road to San Enrique ... a proper Andalusian peasant, helping me learn Spanish and choose some red wine ... on to see Gato and Ruff on the bus ... collecting a copy of the book ... a fresh orange juice and home to take up caretaking responsibilities ... creative juices energised by the meander through hell.