Valencia - Estaba pensando en ti todo el tiempo...

Valencia, I let you get under my skin. I fell for you like a blind roofer. I made a commitment to you, and then I just went and spent a week with Malaga.  

I promise I was thinking of you the whole time.

The truth is, we have a tenant in our Valencia apartment. We’d like to be in Valencia for as much of the time as possible, but it’s an oddly frustrating (and unnecessarily expensive) experience when we are there, but unable to stay in our own home.

And before I start, a small disclaimer. I was going to try to write a blog post about Malaga without comparing it to Valencia. I abandoned this notion for 2 reasons:

1. The blog in its entirety is about Valencia, so comparisons to another city are therefore valid

2. I can’t help comparing almost everywhere I go to Valencia

Malaga City and the Sierra de Mijas beyond.
A beautiful November day.

So we chose Malaga for our autumn visit to Spain. It’s a little smaller than Valencia, (population around 600,000 to Valencia’s 800,000) and in common with Valencia, it’s very easy to get around. We know Malaga reasonably well from past visits, and we’ve stayed in the city itself, as well as sometimes fleeing west to the Costa del Sol resorts with everyone else.

I first visited Malaga city (for my job) in around 2005, and it had a slightly tatty, grubby feel to it… edgy and slightly unsafe perhaps, but with that raw Anadalusian chispa that’s so attractive.

What has happened in the intervening years is miraculous. The streets are clean, the restaurants (tourist-trap and otherwise) are mostly excellent. The museums and culture are vibrant and well-presented. The relatively new Muelle Uno and port and beach areas are smart and engagingly cosmopolitan. The weather is unfeasibly good in November. There are people on the beach.

Having hopefully set the scene, I feel the need to continue this post under sub-headings as follows: 

Las Banderas 

Flags are important and symbolic in Spain… always have been. In Malaga, 99.9% of flags you see (and there are a lot fluttering from balconies and restaurant terraces) are the familiar Spanish national flag, "La Rojigualda". This flag has represented many things in the past (not all of them good) but its current symbolism amounts to a demonstration of Spanish unity, and it’s clear where the huge majority of Los Malagueños stand on this. They want to be part of a unified Spain. They like being Andalusian, and you’ll see the green and white of Andalusia occasionally, but there is no real Andalusian separatist movement.

Compare this to Valencia, where you’ll see the “Real Senyera de Valencia” probably more than the Spanish flag. This is largely a matter of regional and cultural pride and belonging. While separatist factions exist, there is pride in being Valencian and Spanish, and the situation further north is not replicated in Communidad Valenciana.

I don’t want to get into the situation in Catalonia. There will be no political content in this blog, and in any case, it makes me sad. What made me happy in Malaga is that there was a unanimous demonstration of what Los Malagueños believed in, and that was that. 

Los Malagueños 

If a Valenciano wants to say something/tell you something/criticize something/praise something, they will do so in no uncertain terms, and you will be left in no doubt as regards the full and detailed content of their feelings on the matter. They are incredibly and engagingly forward in all things, and they don’t need any encouragement in this. I felt that Los Malagueños tended to prefer some eye-rolling, tutting perhaps, showing their feelings and frustrations without the outlet of explanation or demonstration. Perhaps this is the source of the fiery Andalusian spirit that we occasionally hear about… no doubt the venting has to happen eventually! 

The taxi driver who didn’t know the street I wanted was obviously enraged by this affront to her professional pride (I suspect she was actually grinding her teeth as we waited in traffic near El Corte Inglés) but it just came out as anger and frustration, rather than a more open and honest attempt to confront the problem.

None of this is criticism. I like Los Malagueños… they seem to like and care about what they do, from the restaurant owner lovingly explaining his food and philosophy at length, right down to the deliberately brusque waitress banging down plates as part of her “fiery Andalusian" act. In common with Valencians, they know how to accommodate visitors (however ignorant) and they are particularly good at having fun. There's a twinkle in the eye alright... la chispa is here, alive and well.

The iconic view from the Parador de Gibralfaro.

La Cuidad de Malaga

Muelle Uno seen from the Castillo Gibralfaro path.

This blog isn’t a guide or any kind of promotion, but you must visit Malaga. It has genuine, through-the-ages history. It’s been cleaned up but not sanitized. The old town is beautiful and can be peaceful, and blends with the commercial city centre relatively tastefully. Muelle Uno and La Malagueta beach are sparkling and welcoming and cosmopolitan and stylish. 

Go up to the Parador and the Castillo de Gibralfaro. It’s worth it just for the view. It’s a view that you’ll see on every website and in every guide book, but there’s no substitute for actually being up there. Castillo Gibralfaro and the Alcazaba fortress must be explored, and they reek of Malaga’s long history. Red squirrels dart among the ancient buildings, still inexplicably startled by visitors who have been coming there for centuries. 

In the Picasso Museum, try to tune out the endless squeak of comfortable shoes and consider the incredible talent of a virtuoso artist whose equal we will probably never see again.

We stayed a little out of the centre, in a small but neat apartment just west of the river. A solid, regular area of the city that very few tourists would venture into, but that felt very safe, in common with our little part of Valencia. There is no fiery Andalusian act here… people are busy living, eating, shopping and getting around. You feel that it’s common for people in areas such as this to live largely within their barrio. They have all the shops, pharmacies, amenities, schools and cafés that they need. A trip to the city centre may be rare, perhaps only for a special occasion.

I’m going to use the hideous phrase: “you a get real feeling of community here”. I’m really sorry, but I don’t have any other way of describing it.

And another thing, a little note to Los Valencianos. Can you pick up after your dogs as well as Los Malagueños do?

Mercado Municipal de Salamanca.
You little gem.

Just over the river towards the centre was an amazing little building with the sign: “Mercado Muncipal de Salamanca”. I say little, as there was an irresistible comparison to the imposing Mercado Colon in Valencia, but this one is much smaller. We passed several times when the building was clearly closed and silent, but we prayed that it was still used as a market and wasn’t about to be converted into a row of shops selling dream-catchers and ceramic “toros”. 

We weren’t disappointed. We went in on a busy Thursday morning, and were delighted to see stalls of still-moving crabs, butchers making chistorras and neat piles of the incredible produce that never cease to amaze across Spain. Un anciano outside had pulled the short straw, and was gutting and cleaning little anchovies from a pile of thousands. It was an absolute delight that this was still a local market, doing the job that it was intended to do.

It could do with a facelift, but if anyone comes near the place with a sign saying "Regalos Artesanales" there’ll have to be a grown-up conversation about why they need to make themselves scarce. 

It’s not all good 

I first visited Plaza de la Merced, just north of the old town, for my job in around 2005. It was good for a photo shoot location, but it was dirty, smelly and required us to hire security to avoid us being relieved of expensive items of photography equipment. Not pretty.

Plaza de la Merced.
A little of whatever elegance remains.

On a subsequent visit, it had been transformed. The square was clean and bright, the seated statue of Picasso was a constant magnet for amusing holiday snaps. The stylish bars and restaurants lining one side were frequented by the more discerning tourist, and the suited office workers enjoying their “afterwork” Larios y tonicas in the evening sunshine.

But the cycle continues. There is a Starbucks here now, and an Irish Bar. The tables at the front of this strip of restaurants are frequented by the kind of tourists who are attracted by "happy hours". The lesser-spotted pan-European dickhead also hovers here (you know the one I mean) treating visitors to fictional stories of their amazing "when I ran a bar in Oslo" achievements in exchange for another free beer. Avoid these people at all costs for the sake of your own sanity.

But like I say, it’s cyclical. The drug users will be back soon, and the square will be dark and dangerous and it will stink once again until the city gives it the big clean-up.

Just a side note, but an important one. A message to the likes of Starbucks, Costa, Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonald’s and Burger King… Hueles a mierda. You’re in the process of degrading these beautiful cities. You probably won't see this, but I hope someone stops you.

Sea Cloud II in the Puerto de Malaga, with a backdrop of the city.

On our last day, a beautiful square-rigger called Sea Cloud II slid into the port as we were about to set off on a catamaran trip around the bay. She’s apparently a relatively modern vessel, but they’ve done a great job of making her seem authentic. My post-lunch whimsy imagined Hemingway aboard (Ernest, not Wayne) returning from an African hunting trip in time for bullfighting season at the Plaza de Toros, just a stone’s throw away. 

In reality, it’s not bullfighting season, and Sea Cloud II caters for the wealthier end of the luxury cruise market. It was just a little sequence of events in my head induced by 2 cold bottles of San Miguel.

But if you must cruise, it seems

Sorry Mr. Hemingway, the stalls are empty today.

far preferable to the seemingly soulless floating hotels that rock up at the other end of the harbor and bus their punters into the city so that they can run around after guides holding up umbrellas.

That evening, a great meal at Meson de Cervantes (please go there!) ended a great week in Malaga. The waitress high-fived us as we left because we'd liked it so much. 

I feel like I got to know her a bit better (that's Malaga, not the waitress). 

Lo siento Valencia. Volvere pronto.