A Beach Town And A Hill Town

The morning after the full day in Malaga, we drove the 30 minutes or less to Fuengirola.  As a tour guide said later on the trip, when we recounted where all we had been, “visiting a friend is the only reason for someone like you would go to Fuengirola.”

We went because we were visiting a friend – Geoff Lawler, who lives part-time in Leeds, England and part-time in Fuengirola.  Back in 1984, I interned for him when he was a Member of Parliament.  

In the 1983 British national elections, Geoff scored the biggest upset of the election, winning as a first-time Conservative Party candidate in Labour stronghold Bradford North, a victory akin to a Republican being elected to the House of Representatives in inner city Detroit or Los Angeles.  

I’m not sure if things have changed since then, but back then first-term Members of Parliament had a Secretary at most, and no other staff.  Geoff wanted an American who was familiar with how members of Congress did things – replying to correspondence from constituents, casework to help constituents with problems with government, and whatever else.  

Working for Geoff was a great experience for me – walking the Halls of Parliament, spending a weekend in his constituency (district), doing research, drafting press releases, and whatever else he requested.  We became good friends, and have seen each other in America, in England (Carol and I helped hand out campaign lit during his 1987 election), and once before in Fuengirola. .

Picked as the most vulnerable member of Parliament of any party in the 1987 election, Geoff came close, but fell short.  So he started a business and has been traveling the world.  Geoff’s been to 109 countries, including many that Carol and I won’t even consider going to!  We haven’t yet hit 50 countries. 

Now that you have that background, I’ll get back to our trip.

Since we were only staying one night in Fuengirola, we were staying at a hotel.  While we were waiting to meet Geoff, Carol and I walked the sidewalk along the beach and enjoyed the warmish (low 70s) sun and the Mediterranean views.

Geoff drove us up to Mijas Pueblo, a white town up in the lower mountains above Fuengirola.  It's at 1400-1500 feet above sea level. Mijas reminded us of Frigiliana, but since the sun was out, the whitewashed houses and the flowers looked more impressive, and we could clearly see the Med from above.

Mijas is a regular stop on the circuit for when Geoff has friends come into town, and it proved to be quite a charming town.  Geographically it covers a large area, and the outer parts contain seven golf courses.

Founded in prehistoric times by the Tartessians (they sound like a Star Trek species who would be competing with Romulans, humans, and Vulcans), Mijas has a Greek, Phoenician and then Roman period.  Roman rule was followed by the Visigoths in 714, and they were in turn replaced by the Moors.

Moors in Mijas successful withstood the Reconquista until Malaga fell to the Catholic monarchs in 1487.  The town had to deal with pirate attacks from Islamic North Africa for nearly 400 years.  Now it has to deal with tourists like us, except Carol and I lack British accents. 

With all the background on Geoff, this post is long enough, so I’ll get to the pictures, as they pretty much speak for themselves.