Well, I must say Malaga has way exceeded my very low expectations of this city. I always thought it was a tatty place where Brits landed before heading off along the Costa del Sol to drink pints whilst wearing overly tight shorts with their bellies hanging out, and that was just the women…
It is actually a beautiful ancient city of culture. It was the birthplace of Picasso and Flamenco dancing. The cathedral is a stunning vision of stained glass and carved masonry, with an interior so awe inspiring that I nearly converted to Catholicism for a few seconds.
There is no wonder so many British people retire here. Even in November it is a glorious 25 degrees and the narrow streets are filled with al fresco dining and trendy cafes.
I must not forget though that the reason I came here was to learn Spanish, which I do for over three hours a day, in two 100 minute lessons. How anyone can concentrate for that long, God only knows, I certainly can’t. After about 40 minutes my brain is fried and, like clockwork, I disappear to the Ladies to ‘Take 5’ and have a quick vape. I am suspect my classmates think that I have an age related incontinence problem. I won’t be surprised if there is a packet of Tena on my desk tomorrow morning.
I am in a group of 4 lovely ladies of different nationalities. Although we have a combined age of well over 240, I am delighted to confirm that none of us have perms or orthopaedic footwear and we all have our faculties intact. More importantly, they are kind enough to speak in perfect English when I am around. That’s helpful as my Swiss, Swedish and German are non existent.
Having survived my morning lessons and completed my 2 hours of homework each day, there is only one thing to do. I head off into the beautiful city to wander through the streets but for some strange reason I always end up in Zara to abuse my credit card. Well, things are so much cheaper here…
