It's probably not fair to lump the beautiful Spanish cruise stops of Malaga, Alicante, and Mallorca together into one blog but for a couple of different reasons it ends up as our reality. Before detailing the first reason, our friend Hal G needs to stop reading (Hal’s name used to be John but after some great experiences on the cruise line Holland America Line aka HAL, he officially changed it). We’re serious… stop reading Hal.

One of the few downsides to wandering the planet the way we have is that the threshold for what qualifies as a WOW! does tend to go up, but that said, we struggled to add to our extensive collection of Wows as we looked at these stops. We scoured the tours offered by the ship and we dug through the travel books we had smuggled aboard (Holland America like other cruise lines make a lot of money off of their shore excursions and do very little to encourage or help the independent traveler), and still couldn’t find the jaw-dropping experiences and sights we were getting very accustomed to. I’m sure if we were to spend a little more time in each of these locations, we would discover many of the hidden treasures that are usually the lasting memories of any place we visit. Unfortunately the quickie drop-ins (that are the definition of cruising) that seemed to work reasonably well in the Caribbean just don’t work (for us) in Europe. Everything starts to look the same- heavily sanitized pedestrian walkways with an endless array of high end shopping separated by Starbucks cafes.

Malaga, in particular, had been very high on our curiosity list because it had been our original choice when we were looking at taking the three month break we eventually took in Playa del Carmen. The weather ended up being a tipping point as the average temperatures in Malaga in January & February aren’t that great. The weather now was fabulous so we jumped ship and started wandering around- one hop-on-hop-off bus, a people watching street side café, and a walking tour and it was quickly time to race back in order to avoid the long catch-the-boat swim all the late-comers were required to perform. Our limited time in town was a bit like a sampler plate at a restaurant- tasty but not very filling. The main part of town also seemed to be a well-scrubbed outdoor museum and gift shop, and was home to far more tourists than locals. One of the sparkling pedestrian walkways even had a red carpet covering- certainly anything but an authentic Spanish experience. There were distinctive sights in both Alicante and Mallorca but there was also a bland similarity (how much shopping does anyone really need to do??).

To be fair, we were incredibly distracted during these final stops. DH was getting increasingly distressing news from home with respect to her mom’s health and it was to the point that we needed to think about cutting our trip short and heading back to British Columbia which was pretty much on the other side of the planet. We had expected that given the advanced age of most of their passengers, Holland America would be very helpful in making emergency arrangements but the 'help’ we received started and finished with their insistence on us signing a document acknowledging that we would not be eligible for a refund before they would allow us to disembark!! The staff was almost comically unhelpful and we were left to skulk off of the ship at the halfway point of Barcelona and begin a cobbled together series of flights to get back home.

We did get home in time for DH to spend some time with her mother before she passed. It’s all part of the cycle of life I suppose but I’m sure we’ll have one more guardian angel watching over us as we do some of those things that we probably shouldn’t be doing. We debated even including this sad and personal event in our travel blog but she was a special lady and deserves to be celebrated. Her own 'cruise' from Liverpool to Canada those many years ago probably cured her of any need for extended travel but she was always encouraging our own adventures (if somewhat apprehensive as to some of the predicaments I would lead her precious daughter into). 
 
Life is not measured 
by the number of breaths we take, 
but by the moments 
that take our breath away.