Ten more holiday snaps from the Costa del Sol, as Mrs RM ticks Malaga Cathedral.
I think I was dragged to Torremolinos (wait, wait !) as a tubby ten year old; I can just about remember the stuffed donkeys at the airport. Loads of Brits arrive at Malaga Airport each year; how many visit the Cathedral. No idea.
More importantly, how many Malaguistas have been converted to the joys of “punk” beer ?
No idea. I’ve seen a lot of beer drunk this last week, as much by women as men, but most of it looks like this these vans…
Actually, I’ve yet to see the local Victoria beer in Malaga. Perhaps they’re the Draught Bass of the Costa del Sol.
Those high narrow streets lead via the smell of jasmine and orange trees to the wonderful cathedral,
an experience only diminished by Mrs RM’s reluctance to walk up to the tower for the view across the city.
If you visit, make sure you see the centrepiece of the collection of treasures.
“The restoration of the liver of St. Simon by St Michael after the temptation of the Hampshire micros” (2021). Note the fellow left of centre holding the brewery section of the Good Beer Guide.
At least, that’s what Google Translate said.