The crack of dawn in Malaga on 1 January 2018 arrived at the not-so-cracking time of 8.30am.  The morning coffee ritual in the narrow laneways, involved an extra degree of difficulty today, with most of our favorite haunts closed for the public holiday, and the streets busy with last nights’ people, still adorned with makeup, stilettos and bow ties (the ‘young folk’ as Rosco likes to call them)!

Despite Facebook heralding that the Picasso Museum was open – it was not.  Instead, we hired bicicletas (bikes) and created our own adventures.  I was in charge of bikes (download app, figure out how to book, unlock and pay for bikes), while Rosco was in charge of navigation.

I’m convinced that Rosco has a GPS inside his head. He’s like a homing pigeon.  It matters not what time of day or night, what city, which airport, whether he has been there before, or what part of the world we are in, he has the uncanny ability to know exactly where we are, and which way we should go.  As far as skillsets for a travelling go, it’s one of the best.

However, unlike the GPS lady in the phone, Ross finds the use of words during our daily meanders completely unnecessary.  Instead, his preferred means of communication, is to ‘herd’ me in the right direction by leaning into me, with a not-so-subtle subtle hip-and-shoulder movement.  Walking, this is OK, but on bikes, I suddenly fear for my life in the mad Spanish traffic, and meekly follow behind him.

With temperatures reaching 21 degrees, a cloudless sky and impossibly blue waters, we adventure around the marina and port, then to the outer reaches of Malaga, keeping the Mediterranean to our left and the sun on our backs.  Of course all this exercise is ravenous work, so there were obligatory stops for tapas, vino blanco and cerveza along the way.  On the way home we had the breeze behind us, and it seemed to take mere minutes to get back to the marina.

Even though they were hire bikes, they were in great condition with big, squishy seats.  However, as the hours went by, the seats somehow changed to become hard, unforgiving weapons of destruction.   There was some relief all round when we got off at the end of the day.  And whilst I didn’t enquire specifically about the state of my companions’ nether regions, I could tell by the ginger way in which they lowered themselves onto cafe chairs, that there may have been some tenderness in the undercarriage area.

To end the day, after the obligatory nanna nap (siesta), we venture out for supper at 11.30pm.  We’ve dined at this time on a number of occasions, and it never ceases to amaze me how many people are out (and it not just the “young folk” Rossco, it’s families with young kids, everyone)! Of course, you really can’t get served before 9pm, so 11.30, whilst on the late-ish side, is still prime eating time.  To demonstrate this point, refer to photo below showing Plaza de la Merced at 11am (top) and on the same day, at midnight. The place is packed for 14 hours straight.  I bet there are restaurants in Mooloolaba who wish for the same thing!!

In summary, this was a fantastic day from start to finish!  We covered many kilometres, nobody got killed, or even came close to it, and we saw so much of the city and surrounds.  I cannot recommend a repeat of this enough!