Day 1 - Pickpockets, penises and poison ... oh my!!

So it all started off pretty grand last Wednesday, as Rafan and I met up at Malaga airport and headed off to catch the train into the main station. What we know now (but didn’t then) was that we should have got off at the stop before Malaga Centrale because that doesn’t mean “Malaga Central Station” it means “central Malaga” so when we came out into the sunshine (not for the first time) we were a bit lost. So we wandered around a bit, decided to re-trace our steps and then stood in front of a map to try and work out how to walk to the station.

And then this young man started to explain it all to Rafan, point, give her directions and talk her through it whilst his two friends just stood on by, until she heard a “zippppppppp” and can you believe it, whilst she was distracted, one of the guys standing by unzipped one of her case pockets and had her purse in his hand. She just shouted at him, “No! No!” put her hand on it, and he gave it right back before rushing quickly away. To be honest, I never even saw any of this happening and they certainly didn’t look dodgy.

Welcome to Spain ... 0/10

Yes it shook us, because nothing like that had ever happened anywhere before, but thank heaven for small mercies and there was no point going over what could have happened – because it didn’t – but it wasn’t the nicest of starts. We then did make it to the station and had a bit of time to kill over some lunch before our train to Cordoba. We just fancied a sandwich and went to an eaterie, but Rafan couldn’t use the menu because it had a penis drawn on it. Now it didn’t matter that I then had to use the menu with the penis drawn on it, so I held it up to look at her whilst she was choosing. We could barely understand any of the menu and I decided that most of it would be poison devil’s food, but then we ordered 6 sandwiches of various flavours and Rafan got to eat the ones that I wouldn’t touch ... hehe. Lunch ... 3/10.

So then the time came for us to get our train and we looked jealously on at the 1955 MaccyD’s burger as we went walking by and then hit the platform and clamoured on our train which left exactly on time and headed off to Cordoba.

Spanish trains ... 10/10.

Now I’d printed off the reservation from the hotel and it gave what seemed to me like simple instructions of how to get there in that we either got the number 3 or number 4 bus, got off at Plaza Tendillas, walked down the Jesus, Mary & Joseph street, take a right ... and there you have it. So I eschewed all thoughts of a taxi and got us on the number 3 bus, but the driver garbled away at us and we got off cos I felt like I’d got it all wrong, and so we then just got on the number 4 – cue more random non understood Spanish from the driver, who said a place to us – but we stayed on board and thought we would just wait for “Tendillas” to come up on the name of stops. But the place the driver said came and went and we just didn’t have the courage to get off, cos we didn’t think it was right, and so we continued to sit on this little orange bus going miles and miles around the outskirts of Cordoba – being “entertained” by the fat, local loony, who sat there yelling out in Spanish to himself (although Rafan rather rudely suggested I thought, that he quite fancied me). Anyhow, the driver obviously got fed up of us sitting there and called out to us, so plucky Rafan went to try and understand the best she could and in the end, we got off with the tower of the Mesquita in sight – which is Cordoba’s famous mosque.

And the heat hit us ...

I’ve never known temperatures like it anywhere – and between us, Rafan and I have been to Africa and the Middle East – but this was hot, hot, hot ... and here we were in the heat of the day, dressed in jeans and going god knows where. We had no decent map, we didn’t know where we were going, plucky Rafan once again tried to sort it by asking for directions in her beloved tacky souvenir shops and God knows how, but we made it ... we found our hotel . So we check in and everything and then we move onto the most important subject ... our tickets. So we tried to explain that we’d had emails explaining that the tickets had been delivered to the hotel for us, blah, blah, blah ... but all the girl on the desk could say was “No. There is nothing”.

:shock: So Rafan says, “Erm ... yessss!” But we were making no headway with this girl and she seemed disinterested, the PC didn’t say anything , and so as far as she was concerned, it was simply ... NADA. I can’t begin to tell you how fed up we were.


But then the girl decided she’d get on the phone and talk to her Jeffe, the boss, and she then told us that he had the tickets and he would be at the hotel between 9 and 10 am the next day. Phew!! So we went up to our hotel room, whacked up the air-con, and I collapsed on the single bed that Rafan had so kindly offered up to me ...

... and broke two bed slats.

Cue hysterical laughter from Rafan, however, she was in the bottom of the bunk beds, the lower of which was about 6 inches off the floor. So essentially, she could only get off it by placing a towel on the floor so that she could roll off the bed and onto the floor and from there, she could get on all fours and then lever herself up. My turn to laugh. So after a very stressful few hours, we peeled off our sweaty clothes, took our map and went for a bit of a wander.

We went into the courtyard of the Mesquita, across the river over an ancient bridge and then we went “off piste” ie. wandering round the tiny little streets just hanging, just looking, until we decided to head off to one of the main squares so that we could find ourselves something to eat. As the restaurant menus all seemed much of a muchness, we opted for a 3-course offer and I got a big gin whilst Rafan opened her mouth and glugged a Cola-lite in one fell swoop as we waited patiently for our food. First course turned out to be green slush with a bit of omelette thrown in. Main course was chips with a bit of limp pork, that I had to eat with my hands as the waiter had taken the cutlery away, and then it was all topped off by a piece of melon.

Yum ... not.

We did that thing of piling food up on a plate so as to try and make it look like we were leaving less than we were. So that scored a 5/10. 2 for the meal and 3 points for the gin.

Spain wasn’t exactly doing it for us at that point. 4/10. But the next day was an early start as we were heading off on our sight-seeing mission to follow my bossy itinerary of going to Seville, so maybe things were about to get better ...