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The Medusas of Malaga

malagueta, Malaga

This summer has been a bit unpleasant with the extreme, relentless heat and the fact that I don't have air conditioning, makes it worse. So when the forecast called for an even worse heat wave, and I mean unbearable, I decided to haul a&$ to a beach town, notably, one I had not been to. Malaga was suggested to me because it was cheap, beautiful and when looking at the forecast, wouldn't be as hot as Madrid; Nice enough to take a dip in the ocean and semi-cool enough to walk and take in the scenery. Luckily for me, I was able to get a ticket for 30 euros which is equivalent to $33, more or less. So, I purchased my tickets and excitedly awaited for my holiday to begin as I boarded the bus to Malaga.

As I sat window-side on the bus waiting for departure, my attention was brought to several passengers that were standing up, seemingly waiting for their removable seats to arrive. However, four prepaid seats for four well-anticipating bus riders had been replaced with a very pleased disabled customer whose seat space had priority over theirs. Nothing against the handicapped rider, as it was the fault of the bus company for not having organized the passengers' space correctly, but needless to say the other four riders had to catch the next bus. This was just as bad as an airline overbooking you and acting like it was the computer's fault that overbooked people.

And when it couldn't get any more awkward, the door next to the disabled gentleman WOULD NOT close; a disaster waiting to happen and nearby passengers realizing this, they all helped lock that MOFO in. One even pulled out a screwdriver to fix the hinges on the door. All I kept thinking was "Keep him, safe Lord," because I can just imagine that door flying open while we're driving down the highway and him strolling alongside the bus with a smile on his face. *Makes cross sign across the chest.

The rest of the bus ride to Malaga was quite pleasant aside from the fact that I was talking with an hablodor(a) also known as a woman or man that can talk your ear off. I believe she explained her entire CV along with personal stories. It was actually quite interesting to hear; plus I could practice listening and speaking Spanish. So, that's always a win.

Upon arrival, I was able to walk to my hostel, Urban Jungle, a cute and brand spanking new hostel that appeared to still need some finishing touches, but as long as it is clean and safe, me da igual (it doesn't matter to me). After I settled in, I decided to go to the main attraction I came for which was the beach. I intended to get the touristy part over with and spend the entire next day somewhere a bit local then possibly go to a museum or two on the last day. So, off I went to Malagueta, packed with tourist from near and far, persistent beach vendors, hot a@$ sand and a cool sign of the beach's name that barely fit in the picture you see above. One thing I noticed and appreciated within the town were the various languages spoken throughout the city. Andalucia is a popular retirement spot among well-off German and Englishman, but add that to the pre-existing Spaniards and other immigrants that live there as well, and you will find yourself listening to a plethora of languages that include German, Chinese, Italian, Wolof, French and Dutch in a restaurant, cafe or surrounding you at the beach. That will never cease to amaze me.

Anyway, I walked the pier, got some food and made it an early night because the next day I wanted to wake up at a decent hour where I can get a good spot at another beach. Fewer people are usually there early in the morning as oppose to the droves of people that come around noon.

Saturday morning came, and I was that loud hostel mate everybody hates rooming with while slowly waking people up one by one while attempting to put the correct code in the lock that I had I placed on my locker the night before and failing miserably.

Me(Whispering): So sorry, *jiggles lock. I thought the code was ... * attempts code again...jiggles lock. "But it's not... *jiggles lock again. Talks to self Is it 34,10, 21? Or 34, 01, 12? "Yea, I think... I think that's it." * Enters the code, jiggles lock and ... *UNLOCKS Celebratory voice*

"There we go ya'll! I got it. Sorry about that."

I swear one of my hostel mates muffled under her pillow, "You gotta be kidding me." By the time I hit the shower, got dressed, returned to the room, all of my hostel mates were up just in time for me to ask them if they found any beaches off the beaten path since they came a few days earlier than I had. One of them suggested Banos de Carmen, a cluster of small low tide coves that lead to the sea, each populated differently than the previous one, however, each one flooded with, wait for it...MEDUSAS. You don't even need to know Spanish to come up with an educated guess as to what a Medusa is. So, yes you guessed correctly. Jellyfish.

When I say, "I couldn't even enter the water..." that should give you a clear visual as to how many I saw. Everyone was so annoyed by the jellyfish that parents with a small net, from their kid's beach kit, decided to work together and scoop them up, dig a hole in the sand and drop them in there. One hour later, you could barely see any and were free from worry of getting stung. Well, maybe not completely free but the chance of getting stung looked pretty slim.

The rest of the day, thereafter, I stayed on the beach laying in the sun, taking a dip from time to time, and reading a book. I eventually got something to eat which consisted of grilled seafood that was cooked on an open fire in front of the restaurant accompanied by a glass of white wine all for a cheap price. Eleven euros for a fresh three-course meal is something you just can't get over especially when it comes to seafood as it is ALWAYS ridiculously expensive in the states.

To complete the trip I explored Picasso and the Andy Warhol exhibit at the Museo Picasso Malaga, got a drink at Antonio Bandera's Restaurant, El Pimpi, took pictures of the oldest church in Malaga, Church of Santiago and went back to Malagueta for a quick dip in the sea before my bus was to depart 2.5 hours later. Seeing as though all of these activities were a bus ride away from one another, it was possible to do all of this within a short time frame on my last day. Also, being a bit of a risk taker helps to live life to the fullest when it comes to pushing the limits. However, if I were to have missed my bus... well at least it would make for another story of misadventure.

Here's to living with your fingers crossed.

museo picasso malaga

Church of Santiago

Antonio Bandera's restaurant

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