It’s 3 am. Well, it is 3 am as I am writing because sleep is becoming more elusive by the day…but mostly I mean then. 3 am and a bottle of the best sweet, mild Belgian beer I have ever had in my life. So good that I can’t hear how not so good the music is. So good we forget our problems for the night. I appreciate the irony of discovering the beauty of Belgian beer while in Spain. The quaint bar located on a little hidden street that I am certain we would not have found were we not “homeless”, announces last call. Slowly it dawns on me(on us) that we were screwed. . Then an act of what can only be described as human kindness saved us. At the risk of losing his job, this guy let us stay at his hotel for free as long as we checked out by 8 am. We looked at our watches; that meant a solid 2.5 hours of sleep. Better than nothing, we say optimistically.
It’s now 8 am. His shift ends as we haphazardly hurry and try to leave no trace of our prescence in the hotel room. We are indebted to his kindness, and we make some awkward small talk in our very limited Spanish and his limited English. Thank Heavens for the universal language of humanity and love. We make a plan for the day; get some of that famous hot chocolate and churros, then hit the beach and catch up on some much needed sleep. No big plans, just relaxing.
We head in the direction of Plaza de la Constitució where we find said breakfast area. It’s nothing fancy but gets the job done and hides the gem that is authentic churros. They are hot and super greasy and I am shocked, almost appalled when they soak through about a million serviettes, and this is no exaggeration. I keep thinking, “If this was bad for me then I don’t wanna be healthy.” Quite frankly, at this point, Màlaga had taught me I could not start second guessing my food choices and my inner foodie was let free at last. Afterwards, the city was suddenly so beautiful and the sun, just gently caressing my skin and whispering that it was time to explore on foot.
It’s 12 p.m and we have barely noticed the time go by. That meant time for some new Spanish culinary adventure and hopefully a siesta. A few kilometers to the beach, we stumble upon Picasso Museum. I stay stumble because, while I know art can be beautiful, I simply do not possess the ability to look at a painting and go, “How exquisite. You can literally feel the sadness in the strokes of the painters’ brush…” Just no. Not for me. But I envy those of you that do, I mean, that is just…exquisite😉 However, as Málaga is Picassos birthplace, it was time to get cultured. I surprisingly enjoy myself as Laces, who is quite the art fanatic, regales me with the history of Van Gogh and Picasso and we discuss their various works and their different perceptions. Laces mostly using adjectives like abstract, innate and so on and me usingadjectives such as cool but mostly just nodding and making incoherent sounds. Ooh, ah and so on. As we leave, I feel so knowledgeable that I am so excited to try the Centre Pompidou, which we come across a few meters later. I have much more fun here as there is a staggeri ng variety of art, contemporary and the 15th Century stuff,sculpures, paintings, video exhibitions, such a treat! Seeing as Art is(evidently) not my forte, I will refrain from going into a more detailed description. I will mention though that there was an exhibition, voices mostly that demonstrated different reactions from museum visitors. Something I find quite hilarious, educational and relatable of course. At some point however, my tummy reminds me that my love for food is far greater than my admiration for any piece of art(don’t hate me). With that I practically drag Laces out, who is having a wonderful time getting excited over the slightest things, including the glass windows.
We leave, find some paella that doesn’t live up to its expectations and finally have that long awaited siesta. Knowing we have to leave soon makes us restless and after about an hour we wake up and head for the castle. Two words; treacherous walk. Two more words; bad idea. At the end of the day (also literally, because it’s 19.00hrs) it is all worth it – the castle is beautiful and the views spectacular. Okay, my puns are really horrible, I know I know. I promise I’ll give up soon and go to bed.
Needless to say, Màlaga was nothing short of fabulous. I wish we spent more time there and I will definitely be back. For now, we rush to the bus station, hoping and praying that we did not miss our bus for Granada.
**I am also starting to rethink my choice of title. I really had no idea we would go 2 posts without leaving Malaga😂**
Oh well, I hope you still stick around.