Hola de Espagna

Apart from nearly being arrested in Paris, I managed to reach Malaga without too many hitches. Had my first meal at Oh Calcutta! last night. Lovely mussels and some version of an Italian stew and chocolate mousse. As of now I am wrapped in a woolly pink robe having my hair vigorously towel-dried by Mum.

Nerja seems an idyllic paradise. The only businesses here are shops, restaurants and bars with the odd bank thrown in. No hotels...instead people rent apartments or cottages for vacations. This is actually my second trip here, but the first doesn't really count. I left 98% of me in Calcutta that time. This time I'm here completely. The strange thing is that there's no consciousness of being 'away.' Last time I gazed at the sea, upon sunsets. I gloried in soaking in the bathtub (which I still consider the ultimate luxury). I was the ultimate tourist. Ok, I didn't have any paella and this time I've deigned to 'be introduced to the fine art of wine-drinking' which I vetoed last time....but it's completely casual. No thrill at flying 11 hours or being on the Continent. I might as well be the bored businessman next to me on the flight who spent his entire time reading the Wall Street Journal and making copious notes on his air-sickness bag.
This time my thrills come from the electric mattress-heater in my bed, being put to sleep by Mum...oh and Mum's new pink-framed glasses.