My holiday in Malaga started at Residencia Backpackers, a hostel that quickly shattered any high expectations I had for the backpacking experience. To make matters worse, the entire city was under construction due to extensive building projects and a new Metro line, which meant many streets were completely destroyed. A major construction site was located directly next to the hostel, and the noise commenced every morning at eight o’clock, making it absolutely impossible to sleep in.
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The hostel website promised a free breakfast, but the reality consisted of nothing more than dry bread, with the occasional lucky find of some jam or cereal. Free coffee and tea were advertised as available all day, but that turned out to be a complete myth. The coffee was merely instant, and the water had to be boiled by the guests because the staff would not bother to assist. If someone arrived for breakfast at half-past nine, they were simply told that the sausages had run out and that they should eat dry bread.
The rooms were equipped with bunk beds that felt incredibly uncomfortable, almost as though one were sleeping on bare wires. The pillows were elongated like round tubes, which felt completely unnatural compared to the square pillows used in Lithuania, and they felt as though they might break my neck. I eventually chose to sleep without a pillow entirely, using my hand for support and hugging that tube pillow like a teddy bear.
My living situation became even more bizarre when a strange old man moved into the dorm room. He constantly talked to himself, and our interaction was limited to brief greetings and goodbyes. He snored heavily for a few nights, and he also plugged in an ultrasonic device to repel mosquitoes. Ironically, no insects were seen until he brought that high frequency device. That chirping sound got me really annoyed. Actually, so much annoyed that eventually I asked him to turn it off. On top of that, the shower was a tiny box where turning around was a struggle, and toilet paper was frequently out.
Gibralfaro Castle
One of the days I walked to Gibralfaro castle. I didn’t go inside, just walked the steep road from where I could see a nice city panorama. Gibralfaro is a majestic fourteenth-century fortress that was built on a high hill overlooking the vibrant city of Malaga. It was originally erected by Emir Yusuf I of Granada on a site where a Phoenician lighthouse enclosure had previously stood. The historic landmark was designed to protect the nearby Alcazaba palace, to which it was connected by a walled corridor along the hillside. From its ancient ramparts, spectacular panoramic views of the Mediterranean Sea and the bullring are offered to visitors. Today, the castle remains one of the most iconic historical monuments in Andalusia, although it was heavily besieged during the Reconquista.
Partying in Torremolinos
One evening, I made a trip to Torremolinos to go out partying, where I accidentally met an English group aged around thirty-five to forty. A lovely woman who worked as a nurse in England was part of the group, and we all drank and partied together for the entire evening. One of the women, who was perhaps fifty or sixty, looked absolutely stunning and possessed incredible stamina for partying and dancing all night.
The party lasted until the morning, and I haven’t reached accommodation until half-past seven. This is because my first return train was only scheduled for nineteen minutes past six. I looked for an earlier bus, but despite finding the station, the buses failed to arrive for a long time so I gave up. While sitting on the curb eating and watching the streets, a heavily intoxicated individual in drag passed by combing their hair incoherently and stumbling across the road. Other people waiting for the bus simply shrugged and smiled at the scene. Earlier that night, a local Spaniard randomly pushed me with a basketball, which made me incredibly angry, leading me to yell back at them about them loosing the game against Lithuania.
Trip by Bus to Antequera
I took another day trip to the town of Antequera. Just because I heard of its beauty and it had been highly praised by someone I knew born there. It felt like a very peculiar but lovely town, and I particularly enjoyed looking at the nearby mountain, which was shaped like a an Native Indian face. An English woman on the bus had told me about it, mentioning that her husband wished to be buried there like an Indian. Then she continued laughing that he should climb it before he died so no one would have to carry him.
Trying to Catch the Sun in Malaga
The weather was quite unreliable, as it rained for a few days and remained cloudy on others, but I got a severe sunburn eventually. My skin turned as red as a beetroot, though my face managed to get a nice tan. One day, I tasted a plate of mussels for six euros, which seemed reasonable given local prices. Although they were nicely prepared and smelled delicious, the texture was deeply unpleasant, and the last mussel became so tangled around my tongue that I had to spat it out onto the plate. I abandoned seafood for the remainder of the trip after that experience.
One of the days I went to the sea in Malaga, but I wasn’t really impressed neither by the sand or the beach quality. The beaches are much nicer in Torremolinos.
