Velez-Malaga: Inside Out

The thing about wandering around with my other half (Italian and with none of the British stuffiness/fear of talking to strangers) is that you end up where you least expect. One minute you're staring through the iron bars of a convent gate, then the next you're clambering over boxes and squeezing past the tables of somebody's living room.



Somebody you don't know from Adam but whose entrance hall intrigued, and now you're glancing through his collection of family photos and leafing through the pages of a photographic history of the town as he points out where the famous sons and daughters of Velez-Malaga were born.

The wooden ceilings, are original we're told, and the metalwork above the door states 1869 which I can quite believe. The house is deceptively large with traditional tiles climbing up the stairways to a roomy solarium, while an equally spacious patio - "too dirty for you to see" - waits out the rear for a cleaner and someone to enjoy it.






Hanging above us is a Pinocchio - very Geppetto - while below is a metal contraption for stretching shoes. Strung above the couch is a vibrant rug depicting Moroccan scenes whilst the table and floor are strewn with clothes and general paraphernalia.







Fifteen minutes we spent in the stranger's house, only leaving when his ancient cousin appeared at the door with his whittled stick and the other half had had his picture taken lounging under the colourful rug.