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I often describe Marbella as perfect in its imperfections, and it has plenty. As it has often been pointed out to me: the Greek islands have brighter, clearer seas; the south of France has more luxurious hotels; while the Amalfi Coast is indisputably more picturesque. And yet, despite all this (and perhaps because of it), I love the place.
I first visited Marbella one spring in the early 1990s. My predominant memory is of the Bang & Olufsen store in Puerto Banús. Unlike any audio equipment retailer I have ever known, it had a bar and a nightclub. I didn’t buy a CD player that night, but I did consume a fair amount of Dom Pérignon. Then, refreshed and invigorated, I embarked on a tour of the resort’s varied nightlife.
To this day, I don’t own a single B&O device (the shop is long gone) and I haven’t had an alcoholic drink since 1997. But I’ve since returned to Marbella: the city has cast a spell on me. It has magic, and like the best magic, I have no idea how it’s done.
Marbella emerged as a tourist destination in the early 1950s, when the Marbella Club It was inaugurated by Prince Alfonso von Hohenlohe. Soon the place was filled with people like those photographed by another frequent visitor, Delgado AaronsNow in its 70th year, the Club is much larger than in Alfonso’s time, but retains the relaxed The elegance of his youth. If I had to spend the rest of my life in one place, it would be here: the gardens are filled with exotic plants; dining on the terrace at The Grill is a summer ritual. As is a skewer of grilled sardines at MC Beach, known as the chiringuito. (Over the years I have become something of a sardine expert.)
Starting from Plaza de los Naranjos, in the old town of Marbella, there is a labyrinth of streets that are sometimes so narrow that you can touch both sides at the same time. Vintage Deja VuI’ve bought everything from a floor-length Brioni shearling jacket from the 1980s to a gorgeous shelving unit that I had to crane into my country house office. Thanks to owners Rich and Amanda, I keep up to date with new places nearby – the current favourite is a family-run business. The Curro House Store restaurant.
Everywhere you look there seems to be somewhere to eat, from The anchorwith a black rice as superb as its sea views, for Dawn by Serafinaan elegant pizzeria hidden in the gardens of one of the many gated communities that dot the hills. In what could politely be called the modest suburb of La Campana, El Bigote serves excellent seafood in a small tavern-like space packed with Spaniards. Around the corner is Sidrería Manolo, with strange dolls serving cider at the tables and sublimely tasting turbot. On a less exalted culinary level, there are churrerías: try RamonFounded in 1941, or Saint Ginés.
There are plenty of golf courses along the coast, but I’m too lazy for that. The most sport I get is an afternoon game of backgammon with the art dealer Fabien Fryns in one of the courtyards of his summer house, a Moroccan-style hideaway. Backgammon is accompanied by a cigar: I once found three and a half boxes of Hoyo Epicure Reserva at Venta Los Pacos, an otherwise unassuming newsstand and café on the main road between Marbella and Puerto Banús.
Most summers I visit Malaga, an hour’s drive up the coast, to see what’s on in the museums: Pompidou either PicassoI also make the occasional trip to Ronda, a mountaintop town, to visit Hubertus von Hohenlohe, the Olympic skier, pop star, photographer and son of Prince Alfonso. I try to catch at least one sunset at the mountain home of Sandro Gamazo Hohenlohe, a local landowner who made the area’s first organic olive oil, Belvís de las Navas (you can buy it at the Marbella Club).
But the truth is that I quite enjoy being in one place for an extended number of days, even weeks. If I can’t get somewhere on my Mini Moke, I probably won’t go. As for the Moke, there is another ritual I perform when I’m in Marbella: a visit to Chay Spelman’s Mini worlda mechanic and repair shop on the coast of Estepona. Chay is a muscular, multilingual expat whom I see more often than I would like. Rather naively, I imagine that I will get through the summer without any engine problems; every year my optimism is unfounded. But who knows, maybe this summer the Moke will run perfectly. After all, in Marbella, everything is conceivable, even a hi-fi shop with a disco.
Marbella Sol by Nick Foulkes is published by Asolinera at 105€