When abroad, my wife Mary Pat Treuthart and I travel mostly by train. On occasion, we’ve taken the bus, though that’s not Mary Pat’s preferred mode of travel. We’ve even hired drivers, as we did when visiting Morocco a couple of years ago.

But Mary Pat would much prefer that I drive. And I have done so, in countries as diverse as Switzerland, Poland, Greece, Mexico, Slovenia, Austria (briefly) and Italy. In Italy, I’ve driven from Torino in the north, east across the Dolomite Mountains to Trieste, and all the way south to the city of Matera, which sits near the heel of the country’s boot in the region of Basilicata.

Not all at once, mind you, though one time I did drive a second-rate rental car from Padua in the north to just outside Rome, a distance of some 300 miles. And while it can be fun  to drive 160 kmh on the autostrada, it can be terrifying to put up with cars whizzing past you at that speed and faster when your car can barely manage 80 kmh uphill.

None of that was a problem a few weeks ago when (as I’ve written in previous posts) we continued our trip through southern Spain by renting a car. Leaving our hotel in Granada, we took a taxi to the city’s airport car-rental center. From there, we drove almost due south to the Costa de Sol.

Unlike our trudge from Padua to Rome, this time we had a better car: a 5-speed MG sedan that could scoot. Also, the drivers I encountered in Spain were far more sane than those who have raced past me in Italy. And the roads? Let’s just say that the highways I drove on in Spain (and later Portugal) were as good, and often far better, than anything I’ve driven on in Eastern Washington or all of Idaho.

Yeah, many of them were toll roads. But sometimes you do get what you pay for.

Our destination was the beach town of Nerja (pronounced Nair-ha), which is the generally accepted eastern point of what is known as Spain’s Costa del Sol. Nerja is a scenic little beach town of some 25,000 permanent residents that attracts visitors from everywhere, though mostly – so the guidebooks say – from the UK and Germany.

We opted to book a room at the Ona Marinas de Nerja Spa Resort, which sits a five-minute drive from the city center. It sounds a lot fancier than the kind of place we would usually stay, and to be sure it does offer its guests – especially those traveling with their families – an all-inclusive experience, complete with beach access. Mary Pat -- adept as always at finding bargains – managed to get us an affordable price on a suite with an ocean view.

Once we’d dropped off our luggage, I drove us into town. By then it was late afternoon, and so after walking past the many shops and jostling with others to take obligatory selfies at the Balcón de Europa – site of a former fort that now offers a great view of the Mediterranean – we looked for a place to eat.

That’s when Rick Steves came to our rescue. His guidebook suggested that we seek out El Pulguilla, a bar/restaurant that offered us a table on its spacious patio and all to ourselves (at just before 7 p.m. it was way too early for most Spanish diners). We ordered paella, which I’d dreamed about since enjoying a great dish of it years before at Spain’s Monserrat Monastery.

And although the food ended up being a bit disappointing, the servers who waited on us were perfectly helpful – especially when, after leaving, I had to run back because I’d forgotten my backpack under the table. Our server retrieved it, smiling at my repeated attempts at saying “muchas gracias.”

Afterward, we walked through the town a bit more. Then we returned to the resort. And that’s when I realized that the place where we were staying was basically a cruise ship on land.

We stopped in the crowded resort bar to enjoy an after-dinner drink. Mary Pat found us a table near a small stage, and I went to put in our order. When I rejoined her, drinks in hand, I noticed that she’d moved. And I quickly discovered why when a guy took to the stage and began singing.

OK, that kind of thing is typical. It happens on cruises all the time. So, we sipped our drinks and tried to relax, even when he began singing his version of the Everly Brothers song “Bye Bye Love.” Again, we stayed seated. It was only when he broke into a rendition of “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree,” and half the crowd began singing along, that we jumped up to leave.

Time to retire to our suite, to sit on the balcony and enjoy the view as the sun slowly set over the placid sea. 

Next up: Caves of Nerja and the hilltown Frigiliana.