A short drive south through the heart of Andalucia took us through fields of cork oak and olive trees. Spring had already sprung in this part of the country and early blossoms bathed the landscape in a pink glow. The road wound down past towering gorges, rocky river banks, old and new bridges to Motril from where we drove west along Spain’s southern border, the equivalent of France’s Cote d’Azur. The Costa del Sol is fast becoming as snazzy as the French Riviera and we were astounded by the vast amount of construction activity all along the coastal towns. Huge billboards on the highway advertised the availability of sea-facing real estate. While ancient white-washed towns sparkled in the bright sunlight as they clung precariously to hillsides in Almunecar and Nerja, more modern apartment-style housing is devouring the green mountains of the Alpajurras as they slope down to the Mediterranean Sea. After the development of the EU, Europeans have so much more mobility and retirement options have opened up exponentially for them. Little wonder that the English are buying up real estate in warmer countries such as Italy, France and Spain where their preference for the sea, the sun and the sand is clearly evident. But press on we did past the large city of Malaga, Southern Spain’s biggest, to the well-known town of Torremolinos and the lesser-known town of Benalmadena, now completely taken over by seasonal visitors from England. Finally, we arrived at the ritzy-chic beach resort of Marbella.
Of all the little towns on this coastal stretch, Marbella is the glossiest as a result of the Marbella Club Hotel that was set up in the 1950s by Alfonso von Hohenloer that attracted the rich and the famous. I was determined to take in a piece of the action in this Cannes of the South of Spain and we made our way to the water since all Marbella’s beaches are still free to the public. The pebbly beach at Playa de Venus (above) allowed us to dip our toes into the aquamarine Mediterranean where the waters were still icy. While sunbathers caught their share of rays on the clean stretches of sand, but for one brave little girl, there was no one else in the water. The streets were elegant and clean, full of real estate offices offering snazzy accommodation. Since it was a Sunday, most of them were closed, so that an air of relaxed quietness hung about the town. Swim season was not quite upon the resort, but I could just imagine how many hordes would descend upon these beaches in June, July and August. We were happy to sneak a peek into this little celebrity town before we motored west along the coast heading towards the weird anomaly that is the U.K. held territory of Gibraltar. Long before we arrived anywhere close to the town, the monolithic Rock of Gibraltar, seemingly rising out of the ocean, was clearly visible to us along the highway as were, across the waters of the Straits, the misty blueness of the peaks of the Rif Mountains on the northern coast of Africa.
Bon Voyage!