Sunday, March 7, 2010


It was raining in Córdoba when our bus pulled into the station. I’ll be honest: the bus ride was painful. I had a headache (for reasons that will not be stated here, although I’m pretty sure we all know them…), I was exhausted (also pretty self-explanatory, I think) and my eyes itched (some guy completely disregarded the No Smoking signs and decided to light up every 30 minutes, resulting in a smoky two and a half hour bus-ride). Anyway, my friends and I parted ways at the station, and I decided to take the long way home.

Málaga was good to us, as some of you might know from my Facebook status (the correct pronunciation being “state-us” …long story short, I was educated this weekend by a few “Bad News Brits”. Apparently, American English is the bastardized version of English English, so therefore, “state-us” is correct while “stat-us” remains without a father…but there will be a little bit more about them later because well, they’re kind of a big part of the story.)

Our hostel was noisy when we arrived. The Brits were drinking (at 2:30 in the afternoon), and my friends and I should have known from our arrival that this weekend was going to be eventful. Anyway, we put our bags in the room and decided to go out. It wasn’t that sunny outside, but it was sunny enough, so we walked down the beach. Even though the weather wasn’t ideal, you could tell that when it was sunny and warm, Málaga was somewhere you definitely needed to be. I posted some pictures below, and due to my own personal censorship rules, these will be the only posted pictures of the trip. (It’s better this way; trust me.)

After our walk, we went grocery shopping, went back to the hostel and started making dinner. And that is when we met Freddy (he’s kind of a big deal)…and Harry…and Tom…and Kevin…and Emmett. We all ended up going out to a club that night (minus Tom and Kevin for suspicious reasons [ha.]), and as hinted at previously, we had a great time. Lots of laughing, dancing, drinking, and naturally, mocking of each other’s pronunciation and accents.

The night ended in the early morning, and the later within that morning, we woke up and decided to go do “cultural things” (without the boys because they were…busy.) It was raining (shocker), so we ended up at the Picasso Museum, which, of course, was everything I had hoped for and more. Frantisek Kupka was the temporary exhibition, and I have to say, I really enjoyed his work. The pieces were varied, and some of them were reminiscent of Picasso, Kandinsky, Hopper and Wayne Thiebaud. After that, we just kind of wandered, running into a Cathedral, some ruins, a Roman theater, a castle and a park all before we made it to the bus stop.

And what did we do that night? Well, let’s just say it was a bit like the first. Again, lots of drinking, dancing, laughing, and naturally, mocking of each other’s pronunciation and accents (not necessarily in that order). It was weird to think that we had only met the Brits 24 hours before, but we genuinely enjoyed their company. They aren’t like American boys; that’s for sure. More serious in some ways and less serious in others. Definitely friendlier and more open to “chatting” (drunkenly or not). (But in Spain, it’s an equal playing field.) We ended up going to bed later (or earlier, depending on your perspective) than the first night, so all in all, I’d say I got about 10 hours of sleep this entire weekend.

But it was worth it, and I’d do it again if I could. We left today, and I’ll say it: we were a little sad. We liked our new friends and Málaga and the good vibes. But Córdoba and la Universidad awaited our return. So onto the bus we went, and on the bus we remained until Córdoba. And as I walked home, I couldn’t help but think that it could very well have all been a dream. It’s funny how people can move in and out of your life so quickly like that. You can be enjoying somebody’s company and becoming friends on some weird, accelerated level one day, and the next, you’re leaving, probably never to see them again, hoping only the best for them though because that’s what everyone deserves…the best. Well anyway, that’s my little spiel about Málaga. I’d go back, but without the “Bad News Brits”, who knows if it will ever be able to live up to the first trip.

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