Malaga feels much bigger than the few other Spanish towns we've visited along the Mediterranean, over the past dozen years. Plenty to explore and see and do; but being after all a metropolis it seems harder to discover a definable personality here. Maybe it's a neighborhood thing, able to be appreciated only to the favored ones who live here. Below foreground is Malaga's splendid baroque cathedral, impressive by any measure.


One thing you see everywhere, here, is stone. Slate, to be exact. Building walls and roofs, occasional paving, often intermixed with field rocks to make un-mortared walls between pastures. I love the slightly wild hominess of it. Plentiful chimney pots poke up .

Malaga's impressive cathedral appears here again. What I find remarkable is the absence of any other nearby structure that would remotely suggest the 18th century when, after 250 years, the structure was completed.


To your right as you view this picture  90 degrees, out of view here) is a long permanent jetty that extends out into the harbor, where cruise ships tie up. So upon setting foot on terra firma after this present overnight voyage, there's a quarter-mile of concrete sidewalk to trudge along, to this marvelous little beach. Real. Sand.


Perched on a hilltop overlooking the harbor (and as it happens, all cruise ships tied up out there), is a Moorish fort, with all its admirable Saracen architectural/comfort features, It was of course transformed into a governor's palace after the reconquista, but the beauty of it remains.

Now back onboard, sailing to


They're Going Again!