I’ve been living in Malaga for six weeks. It’s the sixth largest city in Spain, but small in regards to the size of other worldly cities. Malaga sits in the Costa del Sol, home to Pablo Picasso and Antonio Bandera. Over time it also has become a port stop for cruise ships. Several days a week, hundreds of tourists step off the boat, pop into the town to squeeze in the most they can out of their half a day on land. They will partake in walking tours, food tours, and bicycle tours. Eat paella and drink sangria, as they relish in the Spanish atmosphere for the day.
My dog Bella and I choose to take a walk daily on the same path along the Calle Nuevo. A new street that parallels the port filled with cafes, tourists, street performers, and dog walkers. When you walk at the same time every day, you notice what time artists have their gig on a particular corner or when a local older man singing his heart out gets a haircut. I see the same DHL man on his bicycle delivering orders throughout the city. You notice the smallest of things.
Prior to moving here, I had visited six times. This is the first time I stayed more than several days, and it was interesting to see the fadeout of the holidays after 3 Kings day to early prep for carnivale. Although it is over one month away, it seems Malaga always wants to be ready for the next reason to party. And why not? The city seems to ooze with joy and wants the exclaim it to all the tourists who are here for a sneak peak.
At the local market, I tend to go to the same grocer weekly. I know most of the words for the vegetables and fruits, but I guess not for cucumber. I tried to say it in English and French, and they played along. But after the third time, they kindly corrected me with “peppino.” I appreciated that, small lessons to be learned each day. Peppinos always seem to run out of by the time I arrive.
Malaga is filled with new people day after day, but now Bella and I are slowly becoming staples that fill the background. I must be the crazy dog lady who goes to the beach, sits in the sun, and carries her 14 year old dog halfway home due to her tired stubborn legs. And that is okay with me.
There’s something comforting with smallish cities. Other people travel here to escape their winter blues. I take a daily walk to the beach and run into acquaintances on the street. I asked a local how long does it take to become a malagueno, she said three years. Let’s see if I make it to that status.
It Only Takes A Smile 