The taxi driver (who spoke no English) told us he did not take credit cards, and we did not have any euros. I told Shawn I had seen an ATM on our way out of the airport, so he went back inside. In the meantime, the taxi driver loaded our bags in his van (four large checked bags, four carry-ons, and four backpacks).
Shawn returns with no cash - the ATM would not process his transaction. Now what? Haila explains to the driver that we still have no cash, and (she thinks) he tells us that he'll take us to a bank. We agree and load ourselves into the van. 20 minutes later we are leaving Malaga and have not stopped. Where exactly is he taking us?
I ask Shawn if I should look up the ATMs we can use in Spain. He hands me his phone. Again, thank God he kept his phone active for an extra week! I figure out which Spanish bank is associated with UW Credit Union and ask Shawn to show the driver the name. Shawn says it will be fine. Huh? What does he know that I don't? He turns around and mouths, "He'll take our card; he wanted cash."
OK, I can relax now.
The drive to Alozaina is lovely. Orange and olive groves surround us. There are palm trees and mountains. It's like nowhere I've ever been before.
Then we arrive in Alozaina. The driver can't find our address on his phone, so Shawn is using his for directions. Shawn points the driver up a steep and narrow street. The driver starts up and then stops. He says something in Spanish. Haila tells us that he won't go up because there will be nowhere to turn around. He backs down to the main road and unloads our bags. Now what? Shawn pays him (with a credit card), and we look at the map on his phone. Are we even close?
We are still trying to figure out where to go when a sweet Spaniard walks up and starts talking to us. Haila explains that we are trying to find Calle Hoya, and this kind man says he will take us there. He grabs one of the large checked bags and starts hauling it up the steep road. OK, I guess we're following him. He seems to know where he's going. BTW, this was no young man and the road was quite steep. I was having a hard time rolling two bags up the hill.
We pass a few other streets, and I start to wonder if this guy knows where he's going. Haila is ahead of me and sees the sign for Calle Hoya. Ah, sweet success. But then the man tells Haila there is no 7, only 17. Wait, what? Is he serious? Shawn just keeps walking and yells back, "it's here." Oh, thank you Jesus! We have found our new home. The Spanish man tells Haila his name is Augustine. He wishes us luck and off he goes.
We get all our bags into the house (or so we think) and collapse in exhaustion. We decide to take naps. This will prove to be a mistake as it took us a week to get over our jetlag.
When we get up from our naps, it's dinner time. Since it's a holiday, nothing is open. We went into a restaurant, but it was only open for their family. Oops! We ended up eating pizza and chips from the convenience store for dinner. Welcome to small town Spain!
This is the view from our bedroom's balcony.
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