Spain — The White Village of Mijas, Its Cats, and a Hidden Restaurant (Day 2, Part 1)

Date: 2018-10-06

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Day 2: Mijas

A fine morning again. Coffee on the terrace while the washing machine runs. Breakfast: hot sandwiches made from ham, cheese, and eggs bought at the marketplace the previous day. Then out by car — our rental was an Opel Mokka X diesel.

Mijas: The White Village

About 50 minutes from the hotel. The Costa del Sol coastline gives way almost immediately to rocky hills inland, so you have both sea views and mountain scenery in the same drive.

Mijas sits at 428 metres altitude with a population of around 7,700 — and a constant stream of visitors. The village is built on a hillside: cobbled streets, steep steps, whitewashed walls, and terracotta roofs under a sharp blue sky. Flowers and trees fill every gap. The views down to the Mediterranean are open and clear; the properties around it all have pools.

Souvenirs: The signature local craft is painted pottery — decorative plant pots, bowls, and plates in bright Andalusian colours, designed to hang on garden walls. Colourful, light enough to pack, and genuinely representative of the region.

Practical note: Wear comfortable walking shoes. The cobblestones and gradients are attractive and also unforgiving.

The Cats of Mijas

Mijas has a secret: its cats. Independent, characterful, and individually distinctive. Cats appear in shop doorways, on steps, on window ledges. Cat-themed souvenirs are abundant. When I asked one tabby for permission to photograph it, it appeared to pose deliberately. A jet-black cat was found lying squarely in the middle of a shop floor, entirely untroubled.

Lunch: A Family Restaurant Off the Main Street

After exploring the village, we were hungry. Walking slightly off the tourist main road, we found a small restaurant on a beautiful side street — the kind of place not targeted at passing tour groups.

Family-run: the mother serving, father and son in the kitchen. Mother spoke no English, but produced an English menu and took our order cheerfully with a mix of sign language and goodwill.

What we ordered:

• Cold local white wine and fresh olives — the olives were exceptional. Still crisp, lightly salted, with a fresh mild bitterness that clearly indicated they had not been sitting in a jar for weeks. In London, olives like these are not available at any price.
• Gazpacho (requested off-menu — this is Andalusia, the birthplace of gazpacho; the mother obliged without fuss): cold, tomato-based, fragrant
• Warm asparagus soup
• Gambas al ajillo (prawns in hot olive oil and garlic) — still bubbling when it arrived
• Calamari fritti with lemon — the best squid we had eaten in a long time
• Rabbit stew (ordered by our son, a game meat enthusiast) — Italy, Spain, and France treat rabbit as a standard ingredient; the flavour is between chicken and pork
• Paella — mixed: prawns, mussels, squid, chorizo, chicken. The mother warned it would take 50 minutes. We said yes. The result was cooked properly with saffron (not disguised with tomato), the seafood flavour deep and clean with no fishiness at all. Generous lemon on the side — the acid cuts through the rice perfectly. Lemons and limes grow on street trees all across this area; no one picks them because they're everywhere.

Full, satisfied, and grateful. Worth every minute of the wait.

Day 2 Part 2 covers: polvorón in a local confectionery, Aldi supermarket, the beach, and barbecue dinner.

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