Malaga

I've been pleasantly surprised by Malaga. It's not at all what I expected. For some reason I assumed it would be a bit dirty, very touristy and full of stag/hen parties. I mean, it's still a massive tourist city, and there's a fair few stag parties, but it still has a lot of really pretty sights and cultural attractions. It's actually a really beautiful city. It's a bit of a contrast, like Barcelona. On one hand you have the ugly sky rises that line the beach and port, but looming over that are the city’s hilltop citadels, the Alcazaba and ruined Gibralfaro, remnants of Moorish rule. 

The first day was spent exploring the cultural side of the city. Although cooler than Cordoba at 28 degrees, the humidity makes it even more uncomfortable and you sweat way more than in the dry heat. That's especially the case when you're hiking it up the mountain to the castle ruins. However it's worth the trek, as the views from the top are amazing. For lunch I went to the infamous El Pimpi, which is a huge establishment with numerous rooms and a big courtyard, where I sat and had a nice glass of chilled Verdejo and some tapas. 

Later that afternoon I checked into my hostel. I found Malaga to be really expensive for accommodation so I ended up booking a room in an 8 bed female dorm. So I was a bit surprised to walk in and find two men in my room. Apparently the hostel had sold out of beds so started selling female beds to men. Not that I was too bothered, but it was more the principle. The room itself was nice enough, but the one bathroom thing started to be an issue early on. 

That evening I checked out some of the local bars before going to El Meson de Cervantes for tapas. I mistakenly ordered the sardines (I was recommended the special and turns out there was more than one). I was actually rather surprised to find it rather tasty as it was served with mango and tomato salsa. That said, I wouldn't ever order sardines off a menu again! I also had the house croquettes and some kind of stew, both of which were very good. After dinner I had a walk around the city at night. I had packed my dancing shoes with me, but unfortunately couldn't find any proper salsa places on the internet. I was a bit gutted the next day when I met someone who pointed me in the direction of a great salsa bar, but at that point it was too late. 

Feeling knackered, I went to my dorm around 1200. That's when the fun started. Due to the constant comings and goings of people in the room and the sweltering heat, I couldn't sleep and at around 3am I sat on the stairwell outside and called a friend back home. As I sat there chatting I look through into the hallway and see an extremely inebriated man come out of the room next to mine. He is only wearing underwear, however his rather unattractive todger is hanging out over the top of it. He finds a bin at the end of the hall, picks it up and carries it to the corner of the hallway beside his dorm room before spending the next two minutes pissing into it. Bearing in mind there are bathrooms in all dorm rooms (not to mention bins) I can't begin to imagine what was going through his head. But the whole thing was rather amusing.

As I retired back to my bunk to try to get some sleep (it's 4am at this point), the door to the dorm opens and in walks a guy looking for his bed. Turns out someone else is sleeping in it as the hostel had double booked it. After a lengthy discussion between the two, the man eventually leaves and, I presume, is allocated a bed elsewhere. However, 20 minutes later, the same thing happens with a different girl and a different bed. Needless to say, I am fuming! The next morning, the poor girl on reception is on the end of my rage after a sleepless night. I ask for a refund for my second night and find another hostel where I had my own room. 

The second day was spent lying on the beach and baking in the sun. I bought a cheap parasol and sat under it the whole day  drinking beer and eating cheetos, and occasionally going for a swim in the sea to cool down. Pure bliss. That evening, being a Sunday, most of the restaurants I wanted to visit were closed so I ended up going to a place called Noviembre and had some deep fried goodness. I hadn't eaten all day,  other than the Cheetos. Given there wasn't much else to do, I booked into see the stage version of Dirty Dancing. It was a good thing I knew the words by heart as obviously the whole thing was in Spanish! Not as good as the time I saw it in London, but Spanish Patrick Swayze was HOT! Next stop, Granada.