3 nights in Malaga

 Discovering Málaga

Arriving in Málaga by bus on a calm Saturday afternoon, I take in the city’s gentle rhythm.

 Unlike other cities, Málaga doesn’t press; it simply exists, welcoming without intrusion. 

Andalusia, they say, has a softer touch than the north—and I feel it.

Settling into café Iberia at the bus station, I enjoy a vegetarian tarte and a Heineken 0. 

It makes me slightly tipsy, so I sip some water before paying €9.20 and heading to my bus. 

Bus number 20 arrives almost immediately, and thirty minutes later, I check into my hostel—a clean, well-reviewed space that promises a comfortable stay.

Eager to explore, I step back into the city, which was buzing with people, cafes and pizza places galore. After a quick stop at the restroom and a peek at the tidy kitchen-dining area, I wander out again. The café downstairs hums with the quiet buzz of laptops and conversation—young people working, coffee in hand, croissants on plates.

How will I spend the next three nights and four days here?

My first walk takes me up a steep mountain path toward the old town. Along the way, a pair of black lacquer shoes with a bow appears on a wall, seemingly waiting for me. 

Clarks, my size—so I don’t hesitate. I take them home. 

A short pause at the Church of Santa María de la Victoria lets me write a few thoughts for my blog, while around me kids, parents, and neighbors bask in the mild sunshine of Saturday. The corner pharmacy bears the name Fernando el Católico, and for a moment I think of my mom—how much she would have loved it.

Blog written, I move on, the cool January wind urging me forward. Málaga is unfolding slowly, softly, like a city that wants to be discovered at its own pace.