Málaga. I’ve never felt so British.

Whatever you’ve heard about the Costa del Sol and its rep of English boozers, ugly built up complexes, roast dinners available everyday of the week, etc; Believe it. But do not assume the same for the city. 

Málaga more often than not gets looked over because of all those Costa-Del-Street-Crime stories and truth is, it couldn’t be more Spanish.

The reason why I am left feeling so British here is because it  is outside my comfort zone; the people are different, the place has a foreign vibe and the general ambience of surroundings is far from what I am accustomed to.

Josh’s new gaffe is a prime example. The boy has struck gold with this flat. Located directly opposite the city’s magnificent Cathedral, and situated above a charming local eatery, the building itself has an understated beauty to it. 

Traditional wooden doors, tiled flooring and tall open rooms are just a few features that scream Málaga; a delightful mezcla of old and new. At the risk of sounding tres ‘property advert darling’ the balcony of his room is just to die for.  

See what I mean.

Once settled, it seemed apt that we try our hand at being Spanish and take an afternoon stroll or rather, ‘paseo’ around the city centre, before deciding that we were actually bloody starving and needed to stop at the next café we could see. 

Sitting outside a Spanish restaurant in the sun sipping sangría is something you’d expect to be written on a postcard, but really, I can’t get enough of it.

We ordered two raciones of pork cooked Moorish style, with a side of vegetables served alongside the standard bread basket – I wish I had done the hipster thing and taken a picture, it tasted authentic, rich in flavour, and just what I needed considering I hadn’t eaten anything that day (I can hear the gasps of those of you I know). 

Having eaten we stumbled along the streets of the city and had a look around some of the shops, bad mistake for my cashcard balance #YOLO  -but Málaga has that ability to charm anyone into a holiday way of thinking. It’s only after moving on from the city that I’ve managed to kick the tourist feeling. 

Being the typical night-owl students we live for early hours of the morning, so I thought YES, finally, a country with my mindset,  Spain is on my wave-length; I can excuse lateness with one word – ‘mañana’, I can eat/sleep/eat some more at any time, and it’s okay, cause everything is on my time…

2.00am and elderly Spanish folk are casually taking a turn about the centre, some are sitting outside, just finishing off their tapas, and we find our sorry selves inside a Maccy Ds, exhausted from the whole day, not coping well at all with adjusting to la vida nocturna. 

It would be rude not to visit la playa when on holiday (kind of) in Málaga, so after sleeping most of the next day away we headed to the beach, not a bad start to the year abroad.

Málaga has upped it’s game when it comes to classy waterfronts, so much so that I felt more than a little under-dressed trudging from Playa de la Malagueta in tatty beachgear to the gentrified Puerto de Málaga. Lined with designer stores and other fancy outlets, the port portrays the city as new, up-and-coming, and a place of money. Not so much sandy hair and flip flops…