Revisiting Malaga, Spain

Day 012: New World residents often regard any structure standing for three hundred years as remarkably old. Mediterranean ports operate on a clock that makes three centuries look like recent construction. Phoenician merchants established a trading settlement here around 770 BC, and successive waves of Romans and Moorish rulers layered theatres, palaces, and hilltop fortresses directly over those foundations. Three thousand years sit beneath the pavement.

My own history with Málaga runs through Jay, who first walked these streets in 1985, several months before we met. Together we returned in September 2010 to explore the old quarter and climb the stone path beside Castillo de Gibralfaro, built in the fourteenth century by Nasrid Sultan Yusuf I to guard the port below. Today we came back for a single day in warm sunshine that produced our first real sweat since leaving home on November 1st. Tackling that uphill route after sixteen years away brought one clear conclusion. The hill had apparently gained elevation without tectonic uplift!

Coming back after a decade and a half also settled an ongoing question about future travel plans. After years of prioritizing unfamiliar borders, I have come to terms with putting repeat destinations back onto the schedule. Returning to familiar ground is never a simple rerun when enough time has passed in between. The place shifts, the eye notices different details, and the intervening years bring a steadier kind of wisdom to the walk. Familiar streets read differently years later.

Taking the Slow Boat (to Malaga)

Day 011:  Today was originally scheduled for a port call in Cadiz, but adverse weather conditions forced a cancellation. Rough seas altered the plan. Instead of fighting the swells to dock, our route shifted into a slow crawl along the coast toward Malaga. Slipping quietly along the water gave us an unhurried sea day before we tie up at 5:00 am. Tomorrow's forecast looks pleasant, with partly sunny skies, an afternoon high of 22°C, an overnight low of 17°C, and a light westerly breeze around 8 mph.

Passing Gibraltar on our way east brought its strategic legacy into view. Geographically, the Mediterranean functions as an enclosed sea with only a single natural outlet to the Atlantic Ocean. That critical bottleneck is the Strait of Gibraltar. Stone commands the water. Dominating the passage, the sheer limestone promontory known as the Rock towers directly over the world's most congested shipping lanes.  

For centuries, controlling this narrow corridor meant dominating international commerce and military passage. Ancient mariners regarded it as one of the legendary Pillars of Hercules, marking the boundary of the known world. Geography dictated geopolitical destiny. Phoenicians, Romans, Moors, and Spanish fleets repeatedly contested the territory until Britain fortified the garrison in the eighteenth century, carving miles of artillery tunnels directly through solid rock. Today, automated vessel tracking and Barbary macaques, now Europe's only wild monkeys, oversee the cliffs while container ships transit below.  About 41,000 human residents make it home too.

We will have plenty of company along the Malaga quays tomorrow: Costa Fascinosa, Marella Discovery, Holland America Volendam, Windstar Star Legend, and our own MSC Virtuosa. Five hulls crowd the piers. Berthed together, the fleet ensures the docks and town centre will hum with activity.

Returning to Malaga revives personal history. Jay and I visited here in 2010 during a vacation across Portugal, Spain, and Morocco. Walking back up to Mirador de Gibralfaro, the free public lookout overlooking the city and harbour, is our only plan for the day. Sixteen years inevitably change a skyline and any subjects that happen to be in the frame.

Finding the Sun: A Day at Sea on the Restless Atlantic

Day 010: A sea day aboard a nineteen-deck ocean liner has its own peculiar cadence. Outside, the North Atlantic churns in slate-gray hills capped with white foam. Inside, one can find a quiet window seat with a mug of black coffee, watch sixty-three meters of beam slice through the swell, and track the slow heave of the hull.

Today was quiet aboard MSC Virtuosa. Word arrived that tomorrow's scheduled call at Cádiz was scrubbed due to predicted harbor winds and breaking swell. To anyone who has never set foot on a modern passenger ship, missing a scheduled port sounds like a robbery. In truth, it is elementary physics. An 181,000-ton vessel presents an enormous slab of steel to the wind. When gale gusts slam into that superstructure and long ocean swells bounce off concrete quay walls, attempting to tie up becomes a foolish gamble. Deep water remains the safest refuge.

The weather off the Portuguese coast might seem fierce to those who only know European beaches in July, but it is standard fare for mid-November. During late summer, the Azores High anchors itself as a massive atmospheric buffer, deflecting low-pressure fronts up toward Scotland and the North Sea. By autumn, that ridge sags south. The polar jet stream opens wide. Gale systems line up like boxcars, barreling across open ocean directly into western Iberia. Surfers flock to the cliffs at Nazaré right now precisely because these deep autumn depressions kick up monstrous waves. We are simply sharing the shipping lanes with an annual Atlantic routine.

That leaves the obvious question of why this enormous European vessel is steaming south toward Brazil. Cruise ships, much like migrating geese, operate on solar greed. Northern Europe in late November offers freezing rain, three o'clock sunsets, and empty sundecks; passenger bookings evaporate. Meanwhile, south of the equator, South America is heading straight toward high summer. The beaches in Rio de Janeiro are warming up, schools are closing for holiday, and the domestic market is eager to spend money.

Rather than parking an expensive asset in a damp Southampton slip, the line shifts the entire floating hotel across the equator to catch the holiday trade. It is corporate migration disguised as an ocean holiday. With Cádiz scrubbed from tomorrow's log, the bridge has notched back our cruising speed, letting us ride out the swell on a direct, unhurried course for Málaga via the Strait of Gibraltar. Outside on deck, it is stormy right now, yet the air sits at an agreeable 21°C while Southampton shivers at just 8°C. The trade-off is worth every bump. The Atlantic rolls, the stabilizers hum, and each slow nautical mile trades cold autumn rain for tropical sunshine.

Unexpected Visit to Vigo, Spain

Day 009: Rough seas in the Bay of Biscay forced our ship to skip A Coruña today and head for Vigo instead. Heavy Atlantic swells and gale warnings along the Costa da Morte made docking at our scheduled port unsafe for a cruise ship. The captain altered course into the Ría de Vigo, where the offshore Cíes Islands block the open ocean waves. We welcomed the change. Tying up along the calm harbor piers gave us steady footing and immediate relief from the heavy pitching of the open sea.

Our midnight cabin swap successfully gave us the quiet sleep we needed. Temporarily moving up to stateroom 13223 got us completely away from the noisy bulkhead that kept groaning beside our beds in the rough water. We left all our luggage behind in the first room and simply walked over in our sleeping clothes. The move gave us six solid hours of uninterrupted rest before we woke at 8:00 am. That quiet made all the difference.

Our daytime cabin setup remains tied to our original booking while we wait on arrangements for the transatlantic crossing. We still hold only our original keycards, which leaves the noisy cabin as our official stateroom on the ship's roster. Guest services explained that night to night room changes can be authorized whenever rough seas set the wall squeaking again. Our suitcases remain where they are. We will wait and see if staff can assign us a permanent new cabin once the ship reaches Barcelona for the long ocean crossing.

Now, let's get back to the city we are in today. Vigo is an industrious, hilly port city built around one of the finest natural harbors in northern Spain. The shelter of the Cíes Islands turned the estuary into an early hub for Celtic hillforts and Roman fish salting. That protected water also made it a regular target for invaders, including medieval Viking raiders and several attacks by Sir Francis Drake. In 1702, the Battle of Vigo Bay sent Spanish silver galleons to the bottom, creating salvage legends that inspired Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Geography shaped its entire history. Local citizens drove out Napoleon's garrison in 1809, and today the city thrives on Europe's busiest fishing fleet and a massive Stellantis plant producing commercial vans.

A morning walk gave us a good workout on the hills before wet weather moved in for the afternoon. We spent a couple of hours climbing the steep granite streets up to the municipal building, watching city crews in bucket trucks stringing Christmas lights across the avenues. Rain arrived steadily after lunch. We spent the rest of the day on board the ship watching the gray drizzle over the harbor. Temperatures reached 16 degrees Celsius, marking a noticeable warming trend after the chill of Southampton. We welcome the warmer air.

Dancing Queen at Seven, Dinner at Eight

Day 008: We headed upstairs around nine for breakfast before the day gained traction. Taking our morning meal high above the waves is always a civilized prelude to a sea day. The schedule gained official momentum at 11:15 when we attended the Diamond passenger welcome party. Gathering with fellow frequent floaters for several glasses of bubbly is an agreeable diversion, even if our real business waited back down in the cabin.

 

Outwitting cruise ship telecommunications has become a cherished personal sport. Rather than purchasing a second exorbitant satellite package, I enlisted my Pixel 10 as an maritime relay using an app called Every Proxy. We engaged in a brief tactical skirmish between two internal network addresses before settling on port 8080. Jay connected his Pixel to my hotspot, obediently ignoring Android's frantic warning that there was no internet access. His immediate photo upload to Facebook confirmed our quiet victory. I won this round. Before long, the laptop gained full access too.

Logging our daily steps aboard the Virtuosa is an absolute pleasure. By late afternoon our pedometers registered 3.8 kilometres, and the evening festivities had not even begun. For a vessel stretching over three hundred metres from stem to stern, she is remarkably accessible and thoughtfully planned. Broad avenues, generous elevators, and a logical deck layout make moving between venues feel effortless. The ship is remarkably accessible.

Our evening itinerary came down to an exercise in precise choreography. We took our seats at seven o'clock for an energetic ABBA tribute, which delivered thirty-five minutes of pure Swedish pop nostalgia without a single wasted breath. A notice slipped under our cabin door earlier had officially summoned us to dinner at eight. That left twenty-five minutes to stroll comfortably from the theatre forward all the way to our dining room aft, arriving just in time to trade disco glitz for dinner rolls.

Luggage Stowed, Twenty-Four Nights Ahead

Day 007:  Saturday began with our fifth and final breakfast at the Ibis Southampton Central, lingering over tea and toast before completing checkout shortly after 10:45 in the morning. Stepping through the front doors, the towering superstructure of MSC Virtuosa was immediately visible down West Quay Road, standing out clearly under an unexpected break of Hampshire sunshine. A flat kilometre down past Dock Gate 10 to Berth 102 tempted the notion of rolling our bags to the quayside on foot. Pavement is merciless on luggage wheels. We summoned an Uber instead, letting an engine handle the road clutter and deliver us directly to Horizon Cruise Terminal.

Terminal baggage drops and check-in security moved with brisk maritime efficiency, sorting thousands of passengers through the gangways with minimal friction. By 3:00 in the afternoon, we were thoroughly fed from the buffet, our cabin was secured, and the unpacking was complete. Suitcases slid under the berth. Hangers were claimed, wardrobe space was apportioned, and the cabin settled into our floating residence for the next twenty-four nights.

 

Evening brought dinner in the main dining room, sharing a table with an engaging Welsh couple. Our arrangements shifted our slot from the early 6:30 pm sitting into an 8:00 pm dining room reservation, ensuring our table companions will change tomorrow. We consistently choose a sit-down dinner to keep the daily routine measured. The sprawling ship buffet remains open twenty hours a day, yet slowing down for the evening meal provides a welcome cadence. Pacing matters on long voyages. We caught the evening theatre production afterwards, though the stage delivered little more than routine illusionists. Opening nights on extended cruises traditionally rely on low-key entertainment while the ship finds its sea legs.

The voyage begins with an Iberian detour, slipping through the Strait of Gibraltar for a brief turn in the western Mediterranean before swinging out into the open Atlantic towards Madeira and the Canary Islands. In the cabin, a tethered handset now bridges clean connectivity straight to the laptop keyboard, establishing an orderly digital desk before the Solent fades behind us. The long crossing to Rio de Janeiro has begun.

Pacing the Port Before Embarkation

Day 006: We considered taking a short train ride up to Winchester. The town was the old capital of Wessex and has a significant cathedral with the longest medieval nave in Europe. Jane Austen is buried inside the cathedral nave, but neither of us is a die-hard fan. The 25 CAD admission price felt steep for a brief look. My AI also noted that walking down from the station into the medieval town center meant an uphill climb to get back. Uphill climbs before embarkation hold no appeal. We opted to stay in Southampton.

After breakfast we walked over to the tall clock tower by the Civic Centre. The tower is built of Portland stone and rises 156 feet above the square. During World War II, Luftwaffe pilots used the white tower as a visual landmark to line up bombing runs on the commercial docks below. The docks took heavy hits. The tower survived the war with only minor shrapnel marks.

Next door, we went into the Southampton City Art Gallery to see the collection. The rooms held a solid run of British work. The single photo included here shows a piece by a Vancouver artist, an unexpected connection to the West Coast. A bit of home surfaced.

Lisa Milroy (b.1959)

Togetherness, 2002

Oil on canvas

Vancouver-born, Lisa Milroy, rose to prominence in the 1980s after moving to the UK to study at Goldsmiths College, London. She began to make large-scale paintings representing groupings of similar objects; plates, light bulbs, folded shirts and shoes, working with a contemporary sense of the still-life tradition.

Milroy made her first paintings of Japanese prints in 1986 and throughout her career, Milroy’s experience of Japan has acted as a constant source of inspiration.

Togetherness is from Milroy’s ‘Geisha’ series, which are seriously playful depictions of this professional class of female artists and entertainers, out of their usual environment. Building on her repetition of objects, Milroy uses ‘fast and loose’ paint handling and flowing brush strokes to create multiple Geishas, whilst adding delightful detail of contemporary living to make each woman distinct. Across the series, Milroy used a range of techniques and media to explore the possibilities of this line of thought. Here, Geishas are in a suite at the Sheraton in downtown Vancouver, cavorting with some off-duty Mounties.

Purchased in 2005 through the Dr David & Liza Brown Bequest Fund and through MLA/V&A Purchase Grant Fund

This artwork has been chosen by the public for the Gallery’s reopening displays

From the gallery, we walked through the Solent University campus and headed toward the water. We ended up at the Westquay Shopping Centre and sat for a good while near the food court. We reversed our normal routine by picking up simple bread and cheese at a nearby Lidl for lunch. The plan is to head back to the mall food court around seven tonight for dinner. A Friday evening crowd should be lively.  We will board the MSC Virtuosa tomorrow morning and begin our slow journey towards our winter destination of Rio de Janeiro.

Steel Tracks, Thames Winds, and Steaming Noodles

Day 005:  An hour and a half on an express train is all that separates the coastal docks of Southampton from the center of London. We woke at 8:00 this morning, which left plenty of time before catching the 9:30 express service north. While rail fares in Britain carry a noticeable price tag, the sheer speed and convenience make the journey an ideal way to spend an impromptu day out. Fast trains shrink vast distances. For anyone accustomed to long hours behind a steering wheel, stepping aboard a warm carriage and watching the countryside dissolve into dense city suburbs within ninety minutes feels effortless. Our train pulled smoothly beneath the vaulted iron canopy of London Waterloo Station right on time.

Stepping out along the River Thames invariably summons vivid memories of journeys undertaken decades ago. The very first time I stood along the riverbank looking across at the British Parliament was in 1981. I had just finished college and was en route to Kuwait for my first international teaching contract. A classmate and fellow newly minted teacher, Catherine Harold, joined me alongside several other school staff to explore the landmarks during a brief stopover. Those early travels felt momentous. It was not until 2005, when Jay and I went on a European vacation, that I returned to these riverfront walkways for sightseeing. Gazing across the water today brought that long timeline into crisp, meaningful focus.

Our morning walking circuit traced a scenic loop bridging some of the most celebrated vistas in the capital. We crossed Westminster Bridge with a brisk breeze reminding everyone that November has firmly arrived. The river wind was biting. We made our way up toward Trafalgar Square to view the monuments, the gallery facades, and the grand stone architecture before circling back to the south bank via the Golden Jubilee footbridges. Suspended high above the water alongside the rail lines, these twin pedestrian walkways offer unobstructed panoramic views of the entire riverside without any traffic noise. Braving the blustery weather rewarded us with an invigorating tour through the city core.

Seeking shelter from the chilly gusts, we ducked beneath Waterloo Station into the vibrant underground world of Leake Street. Known widely as the Graffiti Tunnel, this 300-metre vehicular tunnel running underneath the railway tracks serves as a rare, legally sanctioned sanctuary for street artists. The famous street artist Banksy hosted an underground art festival here in 2008, transforming a dark brick passage into London's most prominent public canvas. Spray paint drifted through the air. Intricate murals, vibrant tags, and clever stencils overlap continuously as artists repaint the brickwork daily, ensuring the scene looks completely different from one week to the next. Walking beneath those illuminated brick vaults felt like exploring a living underground art exhibit.

Emerging from the tunnel brought us directly into Lower Marsh, where honest midday cooking anchors the neighborhood. Situated right behind the station viaducts, this historic street hosts an authentic weekday market surrounded by small, independent shopfronts. We stopped into an unassuming Thai eatery serving steaming, freshly prepared dishes to warm up after our cold walk. Hot noodles hit the spot. While London dining expenses can seem steep when converted to Canadian dollars, this modest venue offered genuine, comforting value without tourist markups. Finishing a flavorful lunch restored our energy before we headed back toward the railway platforms.

Our timing inside Waterloo Station could not have worked out more smoothly for the return leg. After stepping through the busy concourse, we noticed that waiting just a short while allowed us to catch the 3:05 pm direct express straight back down to Southampton. We quickly bought one-way tickets via a machine. The carriage filled with a fascinating cross-section of students, shoppers, and daily commuters settling in for the afternoon journey. People-watching in a train carriage is just as entertaining as viewing famous monuments. That steady ride carried us comfortably back to the coast by early evening, rounding out an exceptional return to the capital.