Malaga: "Tu passaporte es falsificado"

May 4, 2011 - Málaga, Spain

I have two finals to take tomorrow but I just wanted to finish my last blog about Spring Break while the memories are still intact.

I took a 6 pm bus through more winding, green mountains to get there. The scenery made me feel as if I were in Hawaii, not Spain. It was also raining the entire time I was there. Malaga is a coastal city, so I had been hoping to don my new bikini on its shores. Nope! I did not even see the beach. Instead I got there and thought I could wing my way to the hostel but this place was so confusing. I definitely needed a map here. Even the locals I asked seemed to be confused as to where streets were. Therefore, I got to my hostel a little late and was not up for any more exploring. This place did not seem as ancient or historical as the previous cities. Instead there were department stores, tons of rectangular, boring looking apartment buildings.

After checking in, I remembered that I had seen a tiny mexican looking taco shop and thought I'd try it out. They had nopales but not tacos al pastor. I sat there drinking a Modelo and staring at the map, trying to get situated for the little time I would have to explore in the morning before I'd have to leave at 11 am for my flight. The shop was owned by a "Pancho" or "Panchito" and his wife. I looked at the menu and asked for a tostada with beans and asked what "nata" was. I didn't know it was cream, I just thought it was the top part of hot chocolate that you skim away. Nice try, but I could have made better. What ever happened to "crema"? I spoke with them in spanish and they seemed skeptical that a gringa looking girl like me is actually Mexican. His wife seemed suspicious of me the entire time, and I think he would have as well if I hadn't shown him my Mexican Passport. At that point he began to feel at ease after joking that I had counterfeited it. Oh yes, that's me!

Panchito was from Mexico city but moved to Spain 18 years ago "de aventura" to open the little dive with his wife. He told me he would have been more successful if he had stayed in Mexico because there he had two jobs as a technician. He also mentioned that he hadn't heard the expression "me vale gorro", which I used (meaning "I don't care"-I don't remember at what part of the conversation I said that), and I think it made him happy. I told him I had already adopted some parts of the spanish accent and sayings like "no pasa nada", and he said that he found it funny that his kids had a spanish accent. I then ordered the only dessert they had which was not flan like I had hoped, but a banana fried in a corn tortilla with fake dulce de leche and more nata. Nice try. This is one of those times when the conversation is definitely better than the food.

I went into my room and there was only one other girl in a room for 12 people. I thought she was sleeping but then popped her head up to say hi, which is normal. Then she kept asking me if I worked there. Uhh, no. Good night! Then she woke up again and said "Hasta luego! aren't you working tomorrow?" At this point I just said "Yeah. Good night." Awkward. Moments. In. Spain.

I woke up bright and early at 7 30 not to the sound of my alarm but to the sound of glass crashing and people yelling. Apparently people really do not sleep here. They had partied all night and I'm pretty sure that that crash was just the big finish to their night. First thing I went to see was the market, to see what kinds of produce they sold. It had three main sections: Fish, meat, and fresh produce. I love the smell and sounds of markets, even if it means I must dodge the ankle-busting carts that the locals take with them. Oh yeah, there was also the miscellaneous section, where I went to buy pinto beans. If you know me you have probably heard me complain about how they have them in Prague but not France. End rant. I went up the man and said "Can I take some pinto beans please"? He said that I would have to pay them before I could take them. Ha ha ha. Then told me I didn't understand the joke...I handed him my annoying euro dollars in coin form and said "now I can take them" ; ].

Now the sad business about finding out how to get to the airport. If I hadn't lived in Europe for this long it would not have been me to find out how to do this an hour before leaving, but hey. I just asked around for which bus to take, and found out. So in my last hour I dashed over to see Picasso's birth house. If that's what its called. I made my way through windy streets to a complete disappointment. I kept looking at the map to make sure, but I guess I saw it. It just was an empty apartment building with a huge poster on it saying something about Picasso. I guess they were renovating it. Well they better be at least.

Finally at Malaga airport and after loading up on more spanish products at the duty free like chorizo, sangria, and Liquor 43 (which really IS liquid gold! They even had samples of it) reality hits that I'm going back to France. My life is like Inception. I wake up from one dream to go back to another. There is just a lot less water in my life. I went tanning today in a park which was nice, but I could have used a nice lake to jump in. Those fountains are looking more and more tempting...

 


2 Comments

Mama:
May 10, 2011
Life is good!!!
Adriana Robertson:
May 24, 2011
Malaga, not that great, was it?
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