Alcazaba

It’s in the mid 70s today so what better weather than a day trip to Malaga birthplace of Pablo Picasso.
I was up early, had a nice breakfast coffee, a banana and papaya plus some bread bread purchased yesterday at the market.
I took the #2 bus to the (1.09€) Marbella Central Bus Terminal to catch the intercity bus to Malaga about an hour 10 ride along the autopista.
Arriving at the Málaga bus terminal I had about 1.2 mile walk to the Picasso Museum. I hung my Aftershokz over the ears vibrating ends resting on my temples. Locked in the museum address and hit play on my iPhone. Immediately “I Ain’t No Thief” from “Cave World” Viagra Boys new album came on. To the rhythm of the music I made my way towards the museum along the broad leafy promenade. The music now playing Punk Rock Loser and Siri interrupting with directions. “In 200 meters turn left at Avenida de Los Reyes.” I complied. On occasion she had difficulty with the Spanish names forcing me to look at my phone. While Sebastian frontman of the Boys singing “…And I don't go to parties where folks get dressed up
I go to the function just to fuck shit up…” just in time to hear wailing sirens following marching protesters. I stopped to watch and take a few photos. I got up on an empty bench an another guy joined me. I ask what the protesters were all about. They were unionized transportation employees. He said that since pre-COVID they have not had raises nor improved working conditions. I guess punk rock loser everywhere even in Spain.
I thanked him and continued towards the museum. Now walking the streets of the ancient old town dating back to Roman times I wandered absorbing the aroma from the many cafes. The banter of tourists and locals enjoying a sunny warm day. Some languages recognizable, others Nordic or Eastern European indecipherable. There were lots of people on the narrow streets and a line to enter the museum.
I dislike lines they remind me of preparatory school, obey or detention Mr. Perea. I stood silent but the line moved efficiently probably taking about 15 minutes to reach the entrance. I stepped inside and checked my backpack, paid the €9.50, asked for an audio set, had my ticket scanned making my way to the galleries.
It was mesmerizing. What an incredible artist. The exhibit spanned his career from his earliest works at the beginning of the 20th century until his death at 91 in 1973. What painter and visionary.
I just saw the Dali exhibit in Chicago and was also impressed. But Picasso in my opinion by far surpasses Dali. I have now been to the Picasso Museum in Barcelona and the Dali Museum in Girona, Spain so feel lucky to view these masterpieces.
I highly recommend this Picasso museum and the one in Barcelona or the Reina Sofia in Madrid which has works of both artist. I thank my dad who instilled the live of art in us.
I left the museum my brain’s right hemisphere electrified, visual memories a slide show parsing each piece seen as my stomach oblivious clamoring for food.
All the cafes were crowded. Now 2 pm lunch time in Spain. But I managed an espresso, ham and cheese croissant at an elegant bakery.
I next found my way to the Alcazaba the Moorish fortress dating back to the 10th century. Walking the ramparts imagining what life must have been like 1000 years ago. I was now streaming Biosphere a perfect companion for this visit. Just outside of the Alcazaba is a Roman theater constructed in the first century BC, under Emperor Augustus. Another 1000 years back! Marvelous.
But through this visit I kept on comparing the advanced state of society here to the wildness of Bronze Age forts I visited in Ireland.
From here back down to the city towards the Malaga Cathedral my last stop without much time as my return bus would depart at 5 pm. Impressive cathedral but I lacked the time to devote to each of the many knaves. However, late I was running at one knave I lit two electronic candles in memory of Maggie and my Parents.
It was past 4:30 and I had to retrace my steps. In a hurried pace I became disorientated questioning the direction. Thankfully Siri was in my pocket helping navigate my way back.
The bus arrived and I sat in the first empty seat. This Malaga to Marbella bus stops at the airport. We stopped and several arriving passengers boarded.
The seat next to me was vacant and a man about my age fit and tanned wearing sneakers and shorts sat down.
John, a Londoner smiling with his bad British teeth was arriving from Nice. He’s been living in Marbella for the last two years. We talked and learned that he is bike rider. He has owned Harleys but has put 60,000 miles on his current BMW GS. Maybe I’m wrong. It may not be bad English dentistry but years of eating bugs on a HOG.
However, that wouldn’t explain all the other craggily teeth evident across parts of the UK I’ve encountered. I wonder if the Londoner who was interested in buying our Chicago bungalow also had bad teeth.
We arrived in Marbella. I said good bye to John, thanked the driver and decided to walk to the apartment. Downhill easy. I walked across some middle class neighborhoods another maybe unknown part of Marbella. But it was daylight and didn’t encounter any issues.
Back at the apartment I dropped dead into the sofa. What a day! Not wanting to go out again I heated leftover rice and garbanzos while finishing the 10th episode of season two of Handmaids.Read more