We woke up super early, before the world even started in Spain and got our stuff together to go to the train station. We got to Malaga just as everyone was starting to rise. Dropped off our belongings at the hostel and walked down to Plaza de la Merced to grab a bite to eat. After that we returned to our hostel to figure out where the beach was. When we walked into the main entrance the door to the backyard was open. It was cute, with a bar, outdoor kitchen and about 10 picnic tables. There was when we spotted a short Seth Green look alike wearing a fedora singing “Bad Boys Bad Boys, watchu gonna do, watchu gonna do when they come for you”. He had a thick french accent and was bouncing around. His height made it incredibly comical. Our hostel was a family owned place. Mama was a tough looking Spanish lady with curly hair and a demanding voice but you knew she was fair and kind. Papa was cute and jolly and spent almost the whole time we were there, in the kitchen. We got directions to the beach and walked down, we were about 25 minutes away and spent the afternoon getting golden. When we got back we had a really difficult time opening our door and had to ask Mama for help. She sent up one of her sons Rico, who looked like he would rather be clubbing in Hull than working at the hostel, to help us out. We got changed, and decided we’d go back to the plaza for dinner.
Trying to get to the plaza posed to be a challenge. Apparently, unknown to us of course, this weekend was the festival of Malaga. This weekend everyone in between the ages of 15-19 and living within a 300KM distance comes into the city to drink in the streets and cause general chaos. We weaved through the slew of teenagers and ate a delicious dinner. After that we returned to our hostel to have a drink in the backyard. Mini Seth Green came over and introduced himself as “Gerome”, former semi-famous pastry chef from France. After a life of travel adventures he landed in Malaga. Mama and Papa found themselves short a cook, Gerome found himself in love with the city and the rest is history. We ordered a sangria, which wasn’t on the official bar list but Gerome proclaimed “I will make you the best sangria ever” with a thick french accent and a promise of using the secret ingredient of “love”. In his defense, it was in the top sangria we had the whole trip. We spent the night laughing at Gerome’s many worldly stories, his ridiculous facebook alias, and his love of eccentric hobbies and then called it a night. Just as we were leaving we could smell the BBQ and decided that before we left we’d eat there.
Selena Alice 