There’s something special about the Spanish autumn – the sun is perpetually shining and the sky stays a soft powder blue. We enjoyed a dinner of grilled swordfish at Puerto Blanquillo sitting outside, which feels rare for autumn. When we went back to the apartment, it was 7.30 pm and the sun was still glowing tints of red and orange. The sunset was the latest we had ever seen at this time of the year, as if summer was still lingering in the air. But there were no crowds, just Malagueños walking their dogs or having a tapa with their vermouth. There’s just something about the Spanish coast in October that feels right. 

NERJA

When I look back now, my photos of the Costa del Sol in November are snapshots of a Spanish summer holiday. But mostly, they’re memories of Nerja. We would walk along the promenade facing Playa el Salón and Playa la Caletilla, at a place pompously named the Balcony of Europe. There would be a band singing to the tunes of a Spanish guitar and the sea would be that perfect Mediterranean blue.

On our very first visit to Nerja, we did something that was unthinkably touristic – we ordered churros at a cafeteria thinking it would come with chocolate sauce. And when it didn’t, we ordered chocolate and were served the drink. It was only our third day in Spain and there were still rules we were trying to get our heads around. With a little luck, we managed to have churros on our second visit, this time at a churros cafe with proper chocolate sauce. 

PESCADERIA EL ARTESANO

There’s a little seafood shop on Calle La Cruz in Nerja, barely 10 seats if you count the stools pressed up against the wall. There would be the freshest catch – large clams bundled up in nets, blushing prawns and slippery squids – all displayed on the ice bed in front of the counter. Juan would grill or fry whatever the sea decides to offer that day. One day, we would have little shrimps seasoned with rock salt and another, it would be a whole grilled turbot. Lola would bring us tinto de verano and with each glass, a small plate of crisp boquerones fritos would appear. There is always a queue especially close to 1 pm and everyone would hold a glass of wine as they wait in the balmy autumn. As for Roy and me, we would feel extremely lucky that we somehow reached just a little earlier than everyone else. 

FRIGILIANA

In the subsequent days, we could not resist a trip down to Nerja or Frigiliana. Nerja was lively and sunlit but Frigiliana drew us back with its quiet charm and green terraces spilling softly down the hillsides. There was no end to the whitewashed houses that were so typically Andalusian. We would somehow find ourselves there just as the warmth of dusk wrap around us before dinner. It felt like a mandatory stop for us to savour the town in the beautiful light. 

LA TRAYA 

As a Cantonese, I have a certain fondness for rice. At one time, Roy confessed to me that he missed pasta, which was perfectly natural for a man who enjoys his bowl of noodles. But Spain suited me; I was content as long as there was rice. It’s no secret that the Spaniards love their rice. One night, my longing found its answer in a calderoso at La Traya. It was a bar that transformed into a restaurant late at night. There would be tablecloths and baskets of freshly baked bread. The señor brought forth a black pot steaming with rice luxuriating in an aromatic broth swimming with lobster, mussels, prawns and squid. We dipped in, spoonful after spoonful, until we were full and the only sensible thing left was to carry the rest back to our apartment. 

LAS BARCAS 

On the way to Ronda, we made a detour to the coast for chiringuito. That was how we found ourselves sifting through a flea market for woven basket bags and glossy ceramics. Lunch happened by the sea at Las Barcas where the waiter brought over vinegared anchovies and grilled sardines. Alas, there was no chiringuito because of the breeze. Later at Marbella, a quick glance turned into an hour – seduced by linen shirts fluttering in Yachtpur. I was eager to put everything on this day, mostly for practicality (they were all somewhat on the way to Ronda). I have to admit that we had overstretched our time and we were only on our way to the mountains close to evening. Thank goodness for the late sunset hour.