Marina del Este, Andalusia

I’m trying to figure out what this place looked like in the past.

The small harbor is charming, it almost reminds me of Poltu Quatu in Sardinia: a small cove with green waters and the boats anchored along the dock, waiting for the next voyage. If it weren’t for a small restaurant with few outdoor tables, I would think I’m in a ghost town.

“People used to stand in line waiting a place to sit” my friends tell me.

“Afternoons, evenings and nights, it was a ongoing activity. The apartments for rent at the Marina were very expensive but there were always full, no matter what season”. I look around and I only see the cracks on the walls of the vacant homes, what used to be shops and venues are empty now and the gates closed.


Marina del Este

Even the security post, once needed to assure peace and privacy for the inhabitants, is in a state of abandon and the bar lifted to let everybody get through since there are very few people that come here now. Most likely are just curious like us, trying to find something to do in the lazy Sunday afternoon. Few fishermen are waiting for the fish to take the bait, although there are fishing ban signs everywhere. Who’s going to check on them anyway?

On top of the hill overlooking the harbor, the lighthouse stands tall; finally something that is still working! We are not quite sure how to get up there but after several attempts, driving inside private properties or dead end roads, we finally find our way.

This is the first time I see a lighthouse closely and it was really worth the effort, climbing up the stairs carved into the rocks. As always, the view from the top is magnificent and since it’s almost the sunset, it’s even more beautiful. “We have been living here for thirteen years now and we had to wait for you to finally make it up here” My friends had never been there either, but we all know that we are never tourists when we are at home and take everything for granted.


Going down is much easier of course and we realize there is a road that would have taken us all the way to the lighthouse, so to avoid the trek up the stairs. Wind gusts fill the air with a familiar smell that I almost feel I’m back home.

“This is “murdegu” (cistus)!

Well, we are on the Mediterranean after all. And I long for my Sardinia even more!


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