On my velvet chair in the velvet darkness of Sala 2, I am trying not to make wow sounds too loudly as Fred and I exchange glances through our ludicrous 3-D specs. We’re watching a documovie (moviementary?), Werner Herzog’s 'Cave of Forgotten Dreams'. The gossamer drawings on the walls of the Chauvet caves, made more than 30,000 years ago by people like us, hover close enough to trace with my fingers. Dazed and delighted, we stumble out of the Albeniz cinema into the warm Málaga night.
A week later, we’re in much the same state, and caves are the cause again. That is, our new shelter-to-be in a quiet residential street just 15 minutes stroll from all that the city has to share with us.
Our week of househunting was stressful but also magical: yoga and early-morning coffee on my friend’s little terrace, looking across wooded hillsides to city rooftops; viewing apartments dull, dire or diminutive; fleeing the city's heat and glare for an afternoon siesta and returning to welcome the evening sea breeze; happy red and yellow-streaked people filling Plaza de la Constitución as their Euro cup runnethed over; mussels poached in partridge stock and served in a sardine tin at Dani Garcia’s Manzanilla Bar; night-time walks wreathed with madly perfumed galan de noche.
Now back at Los Piedaos, with its generous flora and beloved furry fauna that we will have to leave behind, I wonder if we are doing the right thing. Probably end up mad, sad, fat and broke (horse? bolted?) but it’s too late now - we’re answering the siren call of the city by the sea.
Where do you live now, and where would you like to have your cave if you revived your ‘forgotten dream’? Wherever you are, I hope you’re enjoying your summer...write and let me know.
