Can I just say that train travel in Europe, at least my parts of Europe, is such a pleasure? Even at the busy Madrid Atocha station, at 30 minutes before departure one can meander in with one’s bags, pass through their quaint gesture toward security, and still have time to pose thoughtfully in front of the departures board, waiting for one’s platform to be announced. It is the scientific antidote to air travel.
We arrived in Málaga in 2:20 hours, having whisked at 125 mph past old castles, goats, and olive groves, and were greeted at Mario Zambrano Station by young Spaniards in shorts and tight t-shirts. What better welcome? Did they know we were coming? The temp was about 15 degrees warmer than Madrid. We checked in into our teeny little flat, Malagueta 1, oohed and aahed over the view (below), then hit the pavement for our triumphal return to the city. Flags raised in honor of our return.