En Málaga, con castilas y lluvia

In Málaga, with castles and rain

The most important difference so far between Spain and America is that Spain is beautiful even when they sky is gray. Lancaster, dressed in gray, might just be the most depressing place on earth. In Málaga, gray isn't dreary; it's mysterious.

Our plane (there were about twenty of us on board) descended in total fog, until a tiny coastline appeared, followed by a modest cityscape, and then by rocky, uneven mountaintops. It looked like a little Japanese watercolor, a city floating in fog.

We had to get cell phones, which was an adventure in itself, followed by a joint effort at making them work. It's in short-hand Spanish. It took six of us half an hour, no joke, to save each others' numbers.

For our "group dinner" our leader Javier took all 65 of us (55 girls, 10 boys) on a brief walking tour of Málaga. We saw a cathedral hidden in twisting streets, which is named El Manco because one of its spires was never completed (a manco is someone with only one hand). He took us to a perfectly preserved Roman ampitheater and medieval fortress, both of which were closed for the night but we could see from the medieval cobbled steps. We passed 19th century apartments, 17th century churches, adorable little taperias. Forty-five minutes later, in the center of a maze of winding streets and alleys, Javier says, "Okay. Is early for dinner, but late for you. Try to find food. Hotel is that way." And he pointed to vaguely where we had come from, and walked away.

This was at 7:30. No restaurants were open. Many didn't even open until 11. Eight of us found a good, cheap taperia and ordered food we thought might be familiar. The best by far was the brie in cranberry sauce, the worst (though still edible) was the "hamburguesita," which we thought would be mini hamburgers but ended up being one small circle of ham on bread. It was really hard to order food, a lot harder than I had expected, even when the menu was in English. But it was only the first night, and we left full and happy, so things can only improve.

Javier had told us if we got lost to ask for el estación del tren or el río. We'd been so turned around in the winding narrow streets we walked in the wrong direction for ten minutes. We had to ask directions three different times. Eventually we found the río (which was a stupid río, hardly any water at all and a concrete island down the center) and followed it until we recognized our street.

Now I'm back in my hotel room, cleaned up and exhausted, but happy. I miss you all very much.