Of Dogs, Cute Boys, and Gorgeous Scenery: My Adventure in Malaga (Part Two)

Hello internet people! I’m over 1,000 words into my 3,000 word research and figured that probably meant I was allowed to take a break and blog for a minute (it also means chocolate. but that comes later).

So where were we in the tale of my Spanish adventure? Right–day two, otherwise known as the wonderful day where nothing productive was done and there was a beach.

We woke up whenever we felt like it, not bothering to set alarms because we had nowhere we needed to be at any set time. It was fantastic. After dressing leisurely (in my SWIMSUIT and my WRAP DRESS), we headed off in search of the beach. Yes. The BEACH. With a quick pit stop for some sunscreen so our skin didn’t totally fry in its shock that the actual sun was actually touching, we found our way to the beach with little incident. And let me tell you something about the beach in Malaga–it is absolutely GORGEOUS. I mean, it’s a port city, so if you look off to one side you will see some cranes and other such port-like things, but the ocean is exceptionally blue and the sand stretches on in this lovely way that I can’t even begin to describe.

And since it’s off season for tourism, the beach was mostly just us and the locals. It was the quietest, most relaxing day at the beach I’ve ever had. We walked along the ocean for a while, letting the water dance on our bare feet. This walk, incidentally, is where the “cute boys” part of the trip really comes in. This beach was basically a stronghold for all of the attractive men in Malaga. All of the attractive men in Malaga WITHOUT SHIRTS.Let’s just say Emily and I rather enjoyed the scenery in more ways than one. Anyway, after we’d been sitting enjoying said scenery for a while, we figured we should probably eat something, so we walked down to one of the little shacks and ordered the healthy meal of mojitos and chocolate covered waffles. Yup. We sat on the beach eating chocolate covered waffles and drinking mojitos. It was glorious.

After our healthy meal, we decided it was time to get our siesta on–we headed back down the beach towards the more scenic spot (this time I really do mean the sand and waves and things) and decided to be brave and lie directly in the sand, rather than leave the beach in search of towels that we’d have to get rid of upon flying home. So we laid in the sand for nearly two hours, soaking up the sun and the silence, with only the sound of the waves in the background to interrupt our thoughts. It was the most relaxed I had felt in a long time and it was absolutely perfect.

When the siesta was over, we went off in search of tourist shops and food, figuring we ought to eat something with a little more substance that waffles and mojitos. Eventually we decided on a place with moderately priced paella and had a nice early dinner before heading back to the hostel to chill in the lounge area for a bit. This is where we encountered irate drunk guy, who apparently had punched one of the hostel employees at some point, from what I gathered by what the owner was yelling at him. That was definitely a tense situation, but we eventually escaped up to the safety of our rooms and decided to hit the hay early, considering we were going to have to get up before 6am to walk to the bus stop for our upcoming trip to Ronda, a gorgeous little city in the mountains.

That brings us to day three: The Ronda Trip, or the time we got on the bus with a LOT of old people. Don’t get me wrong. The trip was amazing. But apparently, old people really like bus trips with included tours. We got up, walked through a slightly sketch part of town to find our bus stop, and then spent a great deal of time sitting on that bus while it slowly filled up with the most tourist-y tourists I’ve ever seen–I’m talking confused old people in awkward shorts with tennis shoes and cameras slung around their necks here. Our tour guide spoke an impressive four languages–his native Spanish, English, German, and French. While this also meant that explaining things took three times as long, since he explained them in the languages of each group of tourists, it was very impressive.

Eventually we got up into the mountains and decided to ditch the tour group and tackle Ronda on our own time, since by now we had gotten our traveling groove on and didn’t want a tour guide telling us what we should spend time doing. Therefore, we went and looked at the beautiful bridge over the gorge and then sought out a nice place for lunch, having incredible success in a cute little cafe that served sandwiches on bagels and had Coke Zero–a definite win win. After that we just generally explored the city, checking out all the different shops and enjoying the beautiful mountain scenery. All in all, a definitely wonderful way to spend the day.

Upon returning to Malaga, we decided to check out this restaurant called Noodles that we had walked by a few times, since it had always seemed pretty busy. I ordered pollo with egg noodles (basically, chicken chow mein). I was a little confused when the waitress asked me if I wanted it “picante,” as one doesn’t generally associate spicy and chicken chow mein, but since I’d also been craving Mexican I said “Si!” The plate of food was definitely a “man-sized portion,” as I remarked before digging in, and it was one of the most delicious things I’ve eaten on this trip, hands down. While definitely not what I’ve learned to expect from Chinese food in America, it was a delicious dish all its own and I definitely remarked more than once about how much I wanted to marry it. But, as I just realized this entire paragraph was about my food and I’m risking sounding a little bit creepy, I think I’d better stop there.

After dinner we headed back to our hostel yet again for our last night in the little six bed room with its dim lightning and awkward restroom situation. The next day we would spend saying goodbye to the city and then flying home, which unbeknownst to me at the time would result in Amanda’s Catastrophic Airport Meltdown, but that sounds like a topic for another blog post.

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