ADVENTURES IN MALAGA | PART ONE
Day 4 - December 15
Thankfully I rested well, due to my husband giving me a strong dose of melatonin. I felt far more refreshed in the morning, but I still felt unwell. Nervous of catching a virus amid our travels pervaded my thoughts and yet I tried to focus on the journey ahead. We wrestled all of our luggage together and in less than thirty-six hours after our arrival, we said our goodbyes to our Madrid apartment.
We lined up out front where a drizzling rain and a gray sky greeted us. We bustled into a taxi and headed for the Atocha train station. We made sure to arrive in plenty of time since we were not sure of what the security process was or how busy the station would be. Thankfully, the process was easy, and using the Trainline app was wonderfully simple.
We arrived in plenty of time and had no fear of missing our train. Although my mind was at ease I felt even more ill and needed to find a place to sit down. I remember looking around for a seat, but the spare few were occupied. I eventually saw a wide pillar, pulled up my bag, and then slowly sat on the ground. I felt dizzy, fatigued, and nauseous and could not figure out what was wrong with me. I could hardly eat the last few days and I felt as though I was tired all the time. Still fearing what the future may hold I began to worry that perhaps I had caught a bug of some kind. After a rest, I gathered what little strength I had and walked over to the shop nearby and bought some sparkling water with the hope that it would do me some good. I was a bit wobbly but I was able to return to our spot and sat for a bit longer trying to regain some more strength.
Our train number was called and my husband managed to gather the children, each with their bags as I staggered to stand. He gave me an arm and when I thought I could manage I began to walk on my own. After locating our car, we loaded our bags and found our seats. My daughter was especially excited about the novelty that we didn’t have buckles like the plane and unlike a car, we could walk and move as we pleased. We sat two in front and two the row behind. My son sat down and I feebly sat next to him. I helped lay out his homework and set him up with his CD player and headphones as I also put my earbuds in my ear a listened to a favorite playlist. Before long, the train began to move and we were on our way for our three-hour journey to Malaga, over three hundred miles away.
I sat in the same spot and didn’t read or do anything except sit and listen to music for three straight hours. I slept, only a partial rest, but I slept intermittently for I don’t know how long. I saw a bit of the countryside and a few towns as we rode by, even Cordoba which I had hoped to stop at but for this trip I could not find enough time. We arrived in Malaga in the afternoon and just in time for la comida. When we exited the train, I felt remarkably better. The nausea was gone, the feeling of fatigue had faded away and I started feeling more like myself for the first time since we embarked on our journey. Relief swept over me and it felt as though my husband and the kids also breathed a little easier.
We saw a cafe near the exit and all agreed that a bite to eat was necessary. We couldn’t check in to our hotel until later in the afternoon anyway. We walked toward the cafe and I found a seat while my husband reviewed the menu. He caught my attention with a wide grin and merry eyes as he gestured toward the menu. I walked up to see what he was so excited about and in small print were the words “Gluten-Free Bread Available.” What a treat! We ordered sandwiches and salads and my daughter was lucky enough to have un gofre (waffle) which she was delighted with. A spot of tea and an afternoon cortado and everyone was feeling a mighty bit better. The kids were smiling and I felt far more relaxed than I had been in several days.
We gathered our things and began our exit from the station. As we walked through the foyer of the station a giant Christmas tree was lit and centered on the floor and there were also lights along windows and hanging from the ceiling. It was far more festive than any mall or city street that I had ever seen and we had not even left the train station. I took a few pictures of the kids with the trees behind them and from even the photos I took we all seemed much more relaxed. My husband and I were smiling at each other and the weariness was no longer behind our eyes. Bags in hand, we headed outside to find a taxi and San Diego-type weather greeted us. Farther south from the wintery weather of inland Madrid, down by the coast, the temperature was at least fifteen degrees warmer and a small rays of sunshine were peaking out from behind the clouds.
We found a taxi straight away, loaded our bags and we were off to our hotel in the historic center of Malaga. We pulled onto a small street next to the Plaza de La Merced and found our hotel, El Museo Living & Experience Club. I chose the hotel because it had wonderful reviews, and yet when we arrived, the experience was even better than what I had hoped for. First, I had not realized the theme of the hotel was created to imitate a museum. Each room held art, furniture, and other household decor that was created by local artists and were actually for sale. Each apartment had also been named after a local artist. Second, I was expecting that we might have quite a bit of noise at night being so close to a popular center, but I was greatly comforted when our front desk assistant directed us to the far side of the hotel and on a quieter street. Seeing the age of our kids, he thought to put us at ease and allow us a quieter stay. The thought was greatly appreciated and I still think of that kindness with gratitude.
We settled into our apartment and marveled at the artwork on the wall. The furniture was midcentury in style and a bookshelf in the small hall was filled with art books of Spanish and Malagan artists. My husband and I had our room and the kids would sleep on the pullout couch in the living room. It was a wee bit tight, but the sun shone through the windows and we felt better than we had in days. It was at this point after we had situated our bags and settled in that my husband remarked that he could not find his wallet.
Both of us looked at each other, our hearts started beating fast, and I imagined that my husband’s mind was whirling as rapidly as my own. We both immediately thought of the worst-case scenario of mugging as the culprit for this lost wallet. Thankfully, I had kept one of our credit cards in my wallet and the fear of the lack of funds was quickly eliminated. Still, one does not experience a mugging and not live without a sense of injury. We started to analyze what had happened, and how it could have happened and tried to calm ourselves. My husband called the front desk and asked if he had accidentally left his wallet in the lobby. He had not, but something the gentlemen had said struck something so plain and obvious that I suddenly exactly what happened. When we were in the taxi, my husband’s wallet had fallen out of the back seat. So simple, but I had heard what happened to several friends when I lived in Chicago so I knew it was more commonplace than people might suppose.
Dustin still was not fully convinced, but the front desk was willing to call the taxi company and check to see if a wallet could be found. It only took maybe five minutes, but those five minutes felt like five hours and we tried to plan and strategize how to pay for the rest of the trip. My husband went ahead and canceled his credit cards heading off in more of a disaster. What was probably only a minute later we received a call from the front desk. Yes, his wallet had fallen out in the taxi. The next passenger after us had given it to the driver. The driver had received a call about the wallet and the driver, remembering our ride, was able to return the wallet after his next drop off which would be only after about fifteen to twenty minutes.
Our crisis was solved, we both sighed deeply and had to smile at each other. Every travel adventure has its ups and downs, but we both longed for and hoped that with problems in London and a nearly lost wallet or downs were used up. Disaster averted, we refocused on the kids and making the most of our first evening in Malaga. The front desk attendant had told us about the light show on the Calle Lario that evening. Since the drizzle that had been threatening all day had abated, we bundled up in our warmest clothes and ventured through the labyrinth of the city.
The square was the Plaza de Constitucion, a square that I had thought to find an apartment near but instead settled on El Museo. Soon it was the mark of the next half hour and the lights that lit the Calle Lario receded and a song began to play. We watched the street dancing in glowing partnership with the music. The angels and pillars alight to the song we stood with the crowds of people to watch the show. It was magical and I am so glad that we had a chance to witness it. Afterward, we listened to the band play in the square and then proceeded through the Calle Lario under the bright lights and protective banners of the angels floating above. We moseyed our way over to where they had a lot of gluten-free options.
It was ten o’clock by the time we seated ourselves restaurant near the Plaza de Merced. La Plaza Malaga was quiet enough that we were able to put in our order quickly; a slider and fries for my son, pasta for my daughter and Tomate, Aguacate Y Mozzarella Ensalada, Brocheta de Gambas Marinadas and a Margarita pizza (gluten-free) for me and my husband. My husband and I also ordered a bottle of wine. Everything was so delicious and we were all so happy. We finally had the trip that we had worked so hard to bring about.
During the meal I kept noticing the older couple next to us, the woman would sometimes glance over at our table. Normal doubts and stresses from eating out with children in the US crept up. Are my kids too late? Is she judging me because I have my kids out so late? Did we say something rude or seemingly offensive without knowing it? Is she judging the amount of wine my husband and I were drinking out with our kids?
I tried not to pay attention to the other table as we ate. I did not want any negativity to ruin the magical evening we were having. It was close to eleven o’clock when they finished their meal and we were close to finishing our own. As they left the woman stopped to talk to us and in her British accent she said:
“I hope you don’t mind my interruption, but I just wanted to tell your daughter that I like her skirt, I wish I could have a skirt like that.”
My daughter, who had been allowed to dress herself for the evening had put on her sparkly skirt that I had purchased for her at H&M in Madrid. I also remembered seeing a lot of really sparkly skirts in women’s sizes and plenty in a size that would fit the woman speaking to us. This led me to respond with:
“You could have a skirt like that too, why not?”
“You know, I should. I should see if I can find something like that,” she said as she smiled and walked toward her waiting husband.
What a lovely interaction and I had been presuming that she would have something negative to say. It made me smile to think that life with kids could be different. Whenever I traveled abroad with children, my kids had never been treated like a nuisance or that it was a shame I had brought my children with me. I wish I had had more of that encouragement and welcome from people when I had been a younger mom.
We returned home to our apartment full amazement from our evening. We all felt like we had stumbled upon something wonderful. My husband and I did not say anything yet, not daring to say out loud what we both thought and dreamed; that we both felt at home in Málaga. For that night, we were satisfied to have arrived safely, that we were well, and had the next several days in the Costa del Sol to look forward to.
Day 5 - December 16
Rain was in the forecast and we felt like we needed a little more time to recover from our travels the last few days. Dustin had to walk to a store for a computer cord. I stayed in with the kids and helped them with their homework. Not rushing out the door was wonderful, but before long we were all getting that itch to go outside. During his walk, my husband found a Moroccan Restaurant near the shore and we walked down the hill and through the park to get there.
Although we were by a busier street near the shore and the park it did not seem that loud. We walked along and even saw the Centre Pompidou, the children’s museum. We had lunch and although my husband and I enjoyed it, our kids ate sparely. The owner was nice enough and since we were the only people in the restaurant we felt a little stressed eating out with the kids. After lunch, we scheduled our time to visit the Picasso Museum. My husband and I were not sure how the kids would do in a quiet museum, but they did well and even more so, were inspired by Picasso’s work. We saw the famous Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. My son was enthralled with the different depictions of bulls or toros and my daughter was inspired by a painting that was reminiscent of Matisse’s Landscape at Collioure with its mosaic of brush strokes.
We finished our afternoon with a little gelato and walked by the cathedral as we returned to our hotel. The cathedral in Malaga carries the nickname ‘La Manquita’ loosely translated to mean the “one-armed woman.” Typically cathedrals are symmetrical or at least have two main towers. Because of the support for the American Revolution, not enough funds, yada-yada-yada the cathedral in Malaga only has one tower. Unlike the Sagrada Familia with its infinite cranes and air of ‘incompleteness,’ this cathedral looked in all aspects finished besides its unique singular appendage.
We never actually went inside. At the time visiting a church did not seem that pressing and with so much to do in the city during our four days. We walked by its walls and entrance numerous times though in the Centro Histórico so much so that it became a pleasant and familiar landmark, chiming the hours and adding to the charming essence of the city.