Salobreña is a popular beach destination for Spaniards, rather than English, which was part of the appeal for us. It isn’t overrun with imposing beachfront hotels. Instead, we were staying in a villa in the old part of the town – a whitewashed jumble of buildings atop a steep hill.
Luckily we had Ian ‘don’t worry, I’ve driven in mines’ Cawrse as our driver, because the gradient combined with the narrow, walled streets and two way traffic were a challenge none of the rest of us were willing to take on – particularly in continental Europe, where automatic cars are like hen’s teeth.
Staying in the old town meant a steep daily trek that gave even my friend Sarah, who met us after hiking in Kashmir, deep burn on the back of the calves.
This daily exertion was probably a good thing, because it meant:
– we had spectacular views of the mountains from our rooftop terrace, which we made use of in the mornings and evenings, when the heat wasn’t too searing
– I didn’t gain weight despite excess consumption of tapas, tinto di verano, cervezas and seafood.
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