My Christmas on the Costa del Sol

by        Cecily Lynch     © 2013

The plane to Malaga was like the No 8 bus to Mayfield.  Loud cries of delighted greeting from neighbours and friends from the Barracks and the Glen rang out as I took my seat.
'Miss Lynch you're the spit of your mother!' It was heart warming.

An enormous crib adorned Malaga Airport, dwarfing even the planes.  We saw it as we made the descent; the figures were huge and dressed beautifully in rich velvet and lace. Everybody craned their necks to see it, it seemed to hover in the air. Somebody cried out that it was flying faster than our jet, but that must have been an optical illusion.

The velvet sea reflected the enormous stars and the miles and miles of coloured bulbs strung along the tiled promenades. Bells rang out in the warm darkness, for it was Christmas Eve.  A glittering liner passed smoothly, trailing Christmas music and balloons in its wake.  The air was soft and gentle, and smelled of palm.  I took off my raincoat. 

On Christmas morning the hotel orchestra played Strauss waltzes from old Vienna, couples danced among the palm trees on the beach. Bells peeled continuously, the population was in fiesta mood, the cafes were full to the brim, street musicians at every bend, children dressed in white marched through the streets singing hymns, boys dressed as pages scattered rose petals before the Virgin and Child, there were fanfares, marching bands and the Baby Jesus was carried in triumph onto the beach where the local fishing boats were blessed in a rollicking ceremony. 

I limped back to the hotel, exhausted. 

The next day the bull rings opened. Huge crowds, wild and excited, crushed into the stands. The bulls were released and promptly rushed the fence with much snorting and stamping.  The crowds seemed thrilled. 'Ole Ole,Ole'  they roared, screamed yelled.  The bulls were retired and dancing girls came on.  The crowd booed, and the bulls were released again, charging the gate and fences.  The crowds went wild.

My next stop was the Amusement Park.and Dolphinarium. There was an electric canoe which chugged up a hill and the rode the rapids down, like Niagra Falls.  The queue stretched a half a mile for this one.  In the Dolphin arena the trainers whistled and the dolphins leaped in huge arcs.   I   was charmed.  It was beautiful to watch. Parrots and cockatoos screeched in the next enclosure. A sea lion waddled into his pool.  What a novel way to spend Christmas!   I was entranced.

I then visited a Butterfly Park, the sweetest little paradise of fluttering beauty.  The temperature was forty degrees to suit the fragility of these pretty ones.  Gasping, I retired to the Buddhist monastery next door, where from the platform holding a gigantic golden Buddha, I could see the dark coast of  Africa

I  was on the Balcony of Europe at Christmastime

The plane touched down again into a cold and rainy Cork, but I was smiling, I had been to a magic land.