I was so sick. The weather was gorgeous. But I was so, so sick. I have not been that sick in a very long time. The plane ride made me feel like my brain was going to explode out of my head, which is not a feeling I would recommend. As we landed, Chrissy was adorable and excited, and it was all I could do not to look like death frozen over. We took the airport bus into the city and then walked to our hostel. It was about a 15 minute bus ride outside the city center and a 5 or 10 minute walk from the beach. This was not a great hostel in not a great lotion. It wasn't bad, but because of the Feria happening this week - a big festival - it was impossible to get a reasonably priced hostel near the city center. The wifi worked, though, linens were free, and the bus station was just around the corner! You have to appreciate the little things. We dropped our bags in our room and found six Dutch girls from Amsterdam who were clearly planning on partying harder than I'm physically capable of, even when not sick. Granted, I've never exactly been the biggest party animal. My freshman year of college doesn't count. I was young. Shut up. Despite the fact that Chrissy was literally concerned that I would die because I looked absolutely horrid (she holds nothing back), I really wanted to see some of the city because I'm stubborn and we were only going to be there for a few days. We took a solid minute (or five) to figure out the bus system so that we could actually make it into the city, and after paying a whopping 1,30€ to get into the city, we were ready to explore. And by ready to explore, I mean barely standing but making it work. It's fine. I was fine. We walked around looking for a tapas bar and happened upon one with huge glasses of sangria for only 4€ so you know damn well I was about it. I got to show Chrissy some of my favorite tapas and we split everything because it's more fun that way. Afterwards we headed over to check out the beautiful cathedral popping out of the skyline only a short walk from where we were. It was incredible, aside from the fact that it was so big I couldn't fit it in one frame of one photo. Tourist probs. At this point I realized that if I didn't get some drugs and sleep (in that order) my life may end in Málaga, which breaks every rule my mom gave me. So I picked up some meds to hopefully combat the feeling of a drill going into my face from like every angle, and we headed back to the hostel. Or at least we tried to, it took about twenty minutes to find the right bus line, and the bus we did find was making a horrid and consistent beeping sound that would have driven my father to kill the driver. On our arrival, the Dutch girls were already out raging face, so we had the room to ourselves, which was perfect because I needed to sit down before I fell down. I figured it'd be best to just sleep it off, so I headed to bed and we slept in the next morning.
I felt so much better. Not great, but like an actual functioning human, which was good enough for me. We headed to the beach because duh, the beach, and Chrissy got to see the Mediterranean for the first time. Being a tour guide is so much fun. We laid out and swam for awhile until it got to warm for yours truly, so we grabbed breakfast - savory crêpes, orange juice, and leche manchada - and while Chrissy headed back to the beach, I headed back to the hostel to shower and rest. By this time the Dutch girls had just woken up - they got home at 6am the night before - and we chatted until Chrissy got back. We quickly changed and got ready to head into the city center. We started in the feria, which as I mentioned is a festival held in several cities in Spain throughout the year, so that Chrissy could see a little bit of what a Spanish festival is like. It's mostly drunk spaniards walking around aimlessly through huge throngs of people with huge cups of Cartojal (15% alc. wine) and sangria, and flowers in their hair. So obviously, it's totally awesome. We bought flowers for our hair because how can you pass up an occasion to put freakin flowers in your hair am I right? We wandered the streets for awhile before stopping for a lunch of pizza and mojitos and grabbing a bottle of Carojal for ourselves. We explored a bit more until we happened upon the Alcazaba, an 11th century Moorish castle that was absolutely freaking gorgeous. I geeked, real hard. We decided to head in - it was only 2€ - and it was totally worth it. First off, in and of itself it was gorgeous. Second of all, tipsy me is probably the best photographer of all time. We took aaaall the pictures. I felt like I was channeling my inner starving artist, and those of you who know me also know that any artist I have deep down starved and died a long time ago considering I can barely draw a straight line. But it was super neat. You haven't seen the pictures yet because we have YET TO FIND A FREAKIN INTERNET CAFE AND OUR HOSTEL COMPUTER HAD A FLOPPY DISC DRIVE SO OBVIOUSLY IT WASNT PREPARED FOR AN SD CARD but it's fine. You'll see them eventually, and you'll probably message me to split a bottle of wine and take your family Christmas photos, you'll see. We eventually left the Alcazaba and meandered over to the roman theatre, which we couldn't personally access, but it was still an awe inspiring thought to think of how long ago it had been built and to what end. Chrissy and I wondered at the fact that the Romans built so many amazing structures literally ages ago, and we already have soccer stadiums crumbling that were built thirty years ago. I think we could stand to learn a thing or two about a thing or two from the people of the past, but what do I know. Eventually, because we are 90 years old, we got tired and decided to head home and get some sleep.
Our next full day in Málaga started with breakfast and the beach, as every day should. We laid out for awhile, swimming when it got too warm to sit in the sun any longer. The water was gorgeous and the weather was perfect, and it was a wonderful start to the day. We eventually made our way back to the hostel to shower and change and get ready to head back to the Feria, but this time we took our time getting ready and didn't leave till evening so that we could avoid a bit of the heat. This time we had bottles of Cartojal in advance and drank them on the way over. We sat outside the feria entrance for awhile until we decided to brave the crowds and wander the feria itself again. We had gotten a bit hungry so when we stopped at Peggy Sue's for a snack - an "American food" joint with the best chicken tenders you'll ever eat, and from the moment we arrived, we were treated as if we were trying to dine and dash, except we hadn't even gotten our food. They were watching us as if we could leave at any moment. It was a real mood killer. I guess Americans didn't have the best reputation with them? No idea, but regardless, not great. We finished our tenders and decided to take a walk to the bigger, more famous beach in the city, Playa Malagueta. The walk seemed distinctly shorter with that magical 15%vol Cartojal in our stomachs, and we eventually arrived at the beach. We sat and talked for about an hour and then found this super awesome tire rope swing zip line thing and spent about the next half hour finding new ways to fall off of it. The people eating at the restaurant nearby seemed to find us very entertaining, so they invited us to have a few drinks. We figured it was in our best interest just to return to the hostel - albeit slowly - and made a few friends on the way. We stopped and grabbed gelato because who would we be if we didn't, and finally found a bus going in the right direction. After getting home, winding down, and passing out around 2, several Spanish girls came into our room at 5am talking WAY louder than should be legal at that ungodly hour, and then around 7am my body decided that now was a good a time as any to wake up for the day, which worked out because we had a bus leaving at 9am for Seville. We woke up in time to run to the grocery store and drop off our post cards but this is Spain and somewhere in their rule book it says no store should ever be open before 10, so we stopped at a gas station for snacks and grabbed a taxi to the bus station - we did NOT miss our bus this time.
This is where I leave you, because only three hours stand between me and one of the most beautiful cities in Spain!!
Until next time lovelies!
About the Author
Mouth like a sailor, great lacker of empathy, paper cut survivor, avid arguer, harsh critic of people who put clothes on their pets, easily distracte
USA, Mexico, Iceland, Austria, Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Portugal, Morocco, Malta, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Ireland, Denmark, Czech Republic, Hungary, England, Poland, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, the Philippines, Scotland, Belgium, Luxembourg, Croatia, Greece
(in August in the US)