A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN. DAY 1.

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At last, the day has arrived, we are ready!

To us, each ‘travel’ is an adventure; we are full of trepidation, excited, we know that we’ll encounter things and people new, that once more our lives will be enriched…

Our plane is ready on the tarmac; I see our suitcases going in as we are absorbing the electric atmosphere so particular to stations, ferry-terminals and airports.

People arrive, people leave, hellos and good-byes, tears and laughter, a chunk of life.

Our flight is called, we are installed, the weather is dreary and dank, it really is full-on autumn here in Yorkshire.

Paul and I squeeze hands as the plane leaves the earth and soars the sky… up, up and away!

I grab my camera as we almost climb above the clouds, one last glance and the land is gone.







We travel through the cotton wool layer of clouds, till we see the bright sun, beneath us, it is like the Arctic, endless white, a horizon and blue, the surrealness of SPACE…

The captain announces that we have a strong headwind (we’re going to be late!), the speed and the temperature outside: -46 degrees.

I see the ice on the window, the sun sparkling it, I’ll just take advantage of the window-seat I have, to break some of the monotony, and try to take some images.

We turn, I see the sun sinking slowly into blanket, it’s turning golden, adding a different sparkle on the ice.

Again I’m reminded of Dante; first there was heaven, then inferno, now it looks like we are descending into hell.

We are well above Spain, but nothing to be seen.

Then, I see a few flashing lights, our ears are popping, the descend has begun, we’re nearly there, I see more lights, a ribbon of orange, The Autopista del Mediterráneo. The motorway of the Mediterranean or AP-7 is a shaft of 1109 km, which connects the entire Mediterranean coast from the border with France, La Junquera to Algeciras, and ends in Guadiaro (Cadiz).

The first section of motorway was opened in 1969 from Barcelona to Granollers.

We land safely at Malaga, get into the hall, pick up our luggage, go for the keys of the car we hired, finally, we breath in the mild Spanish sea-air, I'm engulfed by all the exotic and heady fragrances.

We head for Fuengirola, which is to be our 'base' for the next 10 days.

It is dark; we do not see any of the surroundings, except some lights dotting the mountains.

Because we're late, the restaurant is closed, we walk a few streets through the balmy night and in a side street, discover a genuine, local tapas-bar. In our 'paleness' we attract the attention, but they are quite 'merry' and are singing Spanish Flamenco songs, we can't believe our luck... too bad we did not bring our cameras... However, I think that some things are just to be experienced and enjoyed!

Can't wait for tomorrow!

Thanx, M, (*_*)