Wednesday 29 October 2014

My Moroccan Adventure, Part Two - exploring the senses

When it comes to the senses of smell, taste, and touch, Morocco provides a feast to indulge in. Sometimes the flavours are spicy, sweet, or citrusy, but sometimes they can be bizarre, foul, or strange. Let's take a tour of the remaining three senses. Because smell and taste are intrinsically linked, I'll be writing about these together.

Smell and Taste:

The first thing I noticed when I arrived in Casablanca (other than what a crazy busy city it is) was the smell. It smelled like industry - a tepid and smokey smell, with diesel fumes mixed in. I was glad to walk down to the ocean to clear my nasal passages.  

Above: an egret enjoying its dinner down by the surf in Casablanca.

Walking around the souks (marketplaces) in the various cities/towns I visited - Casablanca, Moulay-Idriss, Meknes, Fes, Marrakesh, and Essouira - presented a literal smorgasbord of scents to intrigue the nose and tastebuds. My favourite scent in the food markets was walking by men selling mint from carts. The mint was piled up in huge bunches. The heavenly smell was such a juxtaposition to the smell of garbage on the streets. 


Mint is an integral part of Moroccan culture as hospitality always means Moroccan mint/green tea. This tea is offered in hotels, restaurants, friends' homes, even in shops where you are buying goods (which happened to me in Essouira in a jewellers shop while I waitied for a ring to be resized). 

Above: tea service in cafe in Marrakesh. 

Below: Tea is somewhat ceremonially poured from a great height to allow bubbles to make a kind of weak froth on top of the tea in the glass. If mint tea is not poured this way, it can be seen as a bit of an affront to the guest. "What, I'm not good enough for bubbles!?"

Walking in the souks can be overwhelming for the nose as there is such a profusion of spices, foods, sweets, and freshly slaughtered meat (and associated bloody smells) in the narrow market lanes inside the medinas. The choices and amounts of foodstuffs are astounding to behold. Every kind of spice imaginable piled neatly in tall heaps, the huge buckets of olives of every colour, the sweet pastries that attract hives of bees to their sticky honey goodness, ropes of dried figs strung together, and meat preserved in fat.


Food in Morocco agreed with me as they use more fruits and vegetables compared to Portugal and Spain. The two main types of dishes are couscous and tagines. Couscous is a product based from wheat and it can be used as a rice substitute. Traditionally, couscous is cooked with a sauce, veggies, and meat. Tagines are a type of Moroccan stew that can be either vegetarian or with meat and a blend of spices (I think seven spices are used the most, but I did meet a gentleman in Meknes who was selling a 21 spice blend for tagine cooking). Tagine is cooked slowly in pottery pots also called tagines on a stovetop or above a grill. While in Morocco, I tried both lemon-chicken with olives and prune/apricot lamb tagines (yum!) and vegetarian couscous. 

Above: vegetarian couscous dish on top and meat tagine with olives below.

Moroccan salads are often cooked for foreigners as the local water supplies are not safe to drink from for visitors. Bottled water for drinking and brushing teeth is a must (I recommend the water brand called Sidi Ali). I only ate fruits and vegetables that were either peeled or cooked to avoid getting a stomach bug, and also took a natural supplement that provides some immunity against bacteria and parasites as well. I really didn't want to get sick while in Morocco. I was happy that my regime worked.

I must give a special mention to the orange juice of Marrakesh. It is the best and cheapest orange juice I've ever had in my entire life. There are at least 20 orange juice stalls in the main square of Marrakesh's medina (there are likely more, I didn't count to be honest). The orange juice costs 4 dirhams, which is approximately €0.40. The orange juice sellers squeeze the chilled fruits in front you and pour it into either a glass or a take-away cup. I drank so much juice, not only because it was tasty and cheap, but because Marrakesh is really hot. It was around 32 degrees Celcius each day, and is the hottest city in Morocco. 

Below: an orange juice seller gives me a thumbs-up in Marrakesh.

Next two photos: The other interesting smells I got to experience were in a traditional pharmacist's shop in Marrakesh. Most remedies were natural and herbal. I saw (and smelled) argon seeds being roasted lightly, and then ground into a viscous paste that was then refined into argon oil for cosmetic purposes.


The pharmacist also had many other remedies and creams to smell - orange essence for headaches, rose cream for facial moisturizers, black cumin seeds and menthol for snoring, and solid amber for mosquito repellent. Of course we were all served the mint/green tea we had grown accustomed to. It was a fun experience to go to the pharmacist in Marrakesh, he was very enthusiastic about his nature remedies.

Now for something completely different...the most awful smell I sniffed in Morocco. Without a doubt, it was the leather tannery in Fes. Tanning hides is considered the third most difficult job in the world - the backbreaking labour, wading through liquids with heavy hides, and horrid smell. The manager of the tannery handed out sprigs of mint to all visitors to help mask the smell of "Camel No. 5" (i.e. camel urine). Our tour intentionally went through the tannery before lunch so that people wouldn't get sick after eating. A wise decision, in my opinion. The smell is overpowering. As I have the tendency to be rather queasy from intense smells like camel pee, I quickly snapped my photos of the tannery workers and got myself inside the leather goods shop and kept my mint posy next to my nostrils.

Next two photos: looking down into the white vats that process the hides to remove hair (with camel pee), and then brown vats filled with natural dyes to colour the hides (like henna for the red colour).


Touch/textures:

Being a textile artist, I relished the fabrics, colours, and yes, carpets that were present in every souk. My favourite memory was actually on my first day in Morocco, in Casablanca, with Kerry (a fellow tour group) member. We were wandering around and ran into a broadly smiling man called Hussain from Chefchaouen who was a painter. He showed us his "paintings" (huge beautiful murals on the sides of buildings) and then took us to see a Berber "exhibition" which turned out to be a carpet shop. We were given a veritable show of the different styles and methods to make the carpets. And yes, we were offered tea. There was no pressure to buy anything, and I must admit that I was a bit tempted. But I was good and resisted. Some carpets were hand knotted (imagine 100,000 knots per square metre), handwoven, and embroidered. Some were wool, some silk, and some a blend of the two. Silk carpets don't burn, a fact that the seller demonstrated with a lighter. All the carpet colours are dyed with natural ingredients that were certified and wouldn't fade.


In Fes our tour guide Abdou took us to a weaving studio where we enjoyed seeing weavers at work and to try on some of the traditional Moroccan garb. One thing I was curious to learn about was vegetable silk, which is a yarn spun from the fibrous leaves of the agave plant. I spin my own yarn, and I am really interested to try spinning agave. All you do is strip fibres off the long edge to the leaves, and it comes off naturally in "stings." They are then spun together and dyed into gorgeous colours. The vegetable silk is stiffer than silk derived from silkworms. But no animals are killed in the process, and the vegetable silk is just as strong and long-lasting.

Above: weaving in progress to make fabric. 

There is a prolific amount of yarns out on display throughout the towns/cities of Morocco. Spinners, dyers, and weavers pride themselves on keeping their traditional methods alive. I was tempted to buy some yarn, but given that I've already bought my self-allowed one skein of yarn, I had to stay my hand from reaching for my wallet. That didn't mean I didn't appreciate the colours though. Most yarns were a rough texture, best for carpets or outerwear. Most were also naturally died as well. 

Below: yarns on display outside a weaver's shop in Essouira.

Below: me in the "magic dress" that is often worn by women in Morocco. The dress is actually one piece (except for the belt) made from the softest cotton. The seller wanted me to buy it, but I had to explain that a) I didn't have an appropriate occasion to wear it, and b) I had to explain to my local guide about cultural appropriation, and that it would be likely frowned upon if I worn this in Canada. But it was very comfortable and soft.

The last thing that I got to experience in Morocco was a hammam. In the Hammam, one's body is washed with soap, and then scrubbed with something resembling a Brill-o pad. The result is that all the dead skin (or top layer) gets buffed off of you. The skin is left a little raw, but shining and healthy. A massage with argon oil completes the treatment. After travelling for so long and swimming in the ocean several times, my skin badly needed a good scrubbing. It felt much better afterwards. And then to complete my Moroccan spa afternoon, I got a red henna tattoo on my hand. I really liked the design. I chose red henna because it doesn't contain any chemicals in it, but it also meant that it didn't last very long.


This trip to Morocco will definitely stay with me. I had a great time, and would go back, although next time with a friend or two rather than as apart of a tour. I feel as though I'm equipped to handle it without as much hand-holding as I'm able to communicate well-enough in French to get by. Definitely worth visiting if you want a truly unique experience that's off the well-worn path. 

Saturday 25 October 2014

My Moroccan Adventure

I'm still trying to absorb the magnitude of my 9 days in Morocco. I've been back in Spain for almost a week now but I feel as though I've only just landed now.

Despite being warned about the dangers in Morocco to tourists, and particularly women travelling alone, I felt totally safe. Of course, the culture for women is very different than I'm used to - having to keep my knees, shoulders, and sometimes my hair covered. In 30 degree Celcius heat that was sometimes a challenge. My tour guide (Abdou from Intrepid Tours) gave us tips to ensure our safety on the streets of the old medinas in each location. Most of these tips would apply to any place you would visit around the world. Wear a money belt or protect your pockets with your hands when in a crowd, go out at night in groups of 3 or 4, all common sense stuff. Being with a tour group ensured that I was never wandering alone 95% of the time.

Above: me covered up in the Hassain II Mosque in Casablanca. Women are obligated to cover their hair, collarbones, arms, and legs before entering a holy place.

Morocco has the second oldest monarchy in the world (after Denmark), and it is a very stable monarchy. The people love their king. Women can be voted into parliamentary positions, and have the most freedoms compared with other Muslim countries. Abdou said that the position of women in Arab countries has more to do with the culture (polygamous and patriarchal) rather than religion. But how do you separate the two? Especially when the Koran talks about a man's entitlement to four wives (provided that he treats them all the same - with his affection as well as finances). Hmmm.

I'm going to write this blog according to the five senses. Morocco is a country that is experienced best by being there and seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, and smelling the surrounds. Before I get into where I visited, I'll tell you where I didn't go: to the blue city of Chefchaouen, nor the Sahara, nor the Atlas Mountain range. But I did see a lot in that short amount of time, and bonded with the group on the same tour. There were 16 of us, a little over half were Australian, 2 Canadians, 3 Swiss Germans, 1 Kiwi, and 1 Saudi. All but 2 of our group (including our guide) were between the ages of 23 and 39, and we all got along very well. Which is so important when being on an intense itinerary such as ours. The cities/sights I did see are: Casablanca, Moulay-idriss, Volubilis (more Roman ruins!), Meknes, Fes, Marrakesh, and Essouira.

Sights:

Certain parts of Morocco reminded me of Andalusia in Spain, although Morocco is much drier. The countryside is arid and in some areas it looks draught-stricken, when in fact the fields have been plouged (often by donkeys), the seeds are in the ground, and now the people are waiting on the rain, Inshallah (god willing).

Above: our taxi was behind these farmers towing a flatbed with their tractor, just outside of Meknes. You can see the olive trees in the background in neat rows. These trees were planted by the Phoenicians more than 2,000 years ago. 

Above: the Roman ruins of Volubilis. It is very close to Moulay-Idriss and has many well-preserved mosaics. It is the most important archeological site in Morocco.

Most cities have an old medina (or city centre), and a new part created by the French colonializing forces from 1912-1956. The contrast between these two parts was marked in each place I visited. The medinas are ancient, perhaps a few thousand years old. Most of the hostels I stayed in were located in the new town, but all the sites were in the medinas or countryside. Who wants to go to a modern big city in a third world country anyways? The way to know a country is to visit where the people live and work, with their traditions and customs passed down. For example, donkeys are still a primary mode of transporting goods in the villages, and through the narrow streets of the medinas in Meknes and Fes. 

Below: a donkey with saddlebags to transport goods in the town of Moulay-Idriss. Sometimes the animal would also carry a rider as well. 

Above: a panoramic shot of the old medina of Fes. It is the world's largest labyrinth with 9,000 streets and 40,000 dead-ends! Because it's so easy to get lost within the maze, people who become postmen or tour guides must be locals born inside. 

Each town also has several mosques, which Muslims are called to worship in five times a day (twelve times during the holy month of Ramadan). All of the mosques have several features in common: a minaret for the call to prayer (which is always a live voice in Morocco, never a recording), abulution fountains for pre-prayer purification, and a mihrab to indicate the direction of Mecca. The minaret is crowned with either three, four, or five "balls." These correspond to the three monotheistic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), the four holy books (the Torah, the Old & New Testiments, and the Koran), or the five pillars of Islam (the declaration/belief there is no god except Allah and that Mohammad was his messenger, to pray five times a day, to give money to the poor, to fast during the month of Ramadan, and to visit Mecca at least once in a lifetime if one is hale and wealthy enough to do so). This shows the acceptance of Muslims of the other monotheistic religions. Something that is not always reciprocated by the West towards Muslim countries, a fact that many Moroccans are baffled by. Clearly, the media has a role in this negative image (especially since 9/11). 

Islam came to Morocco in the eight century CE, by a man who was fleeing the Middle East from dynastic/clan wars. His name was Moulay-Idriss, and he founded a town which bears his name, and his mausoleum is a sight of holy pilgrimage in Morocco. It is said that six pilgrimages to Moulay-Idriss during the saint's festival in July is worth one visit to Mecca. Up until five years ago, this town was not open to non-Muslims. I felt privileged to have gone there.

 Above: me in front of the vista of Moulay-Idriss. The holy site of pilgrimage is the green tiled rooves to the right of me. Non-Muslims are not allowed inside.

I visited the outside many mosques, but the only one tourists are allowed inside is the Hussain II Mosque in Casablanca. The mosque is modern (built from 1987 to 1993). It was constructed in only six years as labourers worked 24/7 to complete the place of worship. The mosque is situated on bedrock at the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. A sight that made me gasp when I saw it first:

Below: a vista from within the mosque. The marble floors are heated for prayer in winter (yeah modernity!) The mosque can hold 10,000 men with their prayer mats on the floor, and another 5,000 spots in women on the mezzanine level above). Gorgeous plasterworks adorn all the arched surfaces, and were carved in place. 

The other sights that stand out in Morocco is the colours of the towns themselves: doorways, walls, and ornamentation. It was mostly bright whitewash with pastel colours overtop, and doors came in all sizes, shapes, and colours.

Above: a typical street in Morocco (this one is from Essouira).

Below: typical doors in Morocco (these are from Moulay-Idriss).

No tour of the sights of Morocco would be complete without mentioning the cats. I swear, there are millions of stray/partially-stray or feral cats in Morocco. I was snapping pictures of cats sleeping on bicycles, under refrigerators, playing in gardens, and eating food left out by locals (who tolerate/encourage the felines because they keep mice and rats under control - something very useful in the open-air markets). I even had one staring at me between my legs for a solid ten minutes as I ate food! Obviously it was waiting for me to drop some tasty morsel for it to have. My favourite cat photo is of me with a kitten from Essouira though:
"Meow!" 

Sounds

The sounds of Morocco are quite different from most western countries: donkey's clip-clopping up the stairs (except in Fes, where the donkeys are shod with rubber shoes to make their clopping silent and to prevent the animals from slipping), roosters crowing at all hours, cars honking horns at the slightest delay at a freshly turned green-light, and people. The sounds of living and working! Imagine you are walking through a narrow street in the medina of Fes and you hear "ballek!!" That means "watch out!" because usually some one is trying to get by with a donkey, a cart, or a motorbike, or all three!

Above: or how about walking by the coppersmiths quarter in Fes' medina, and having your eardrums assaulted by the sounds of many hammers on metal. The clanging was impressive! 

Below: or this, the demure clucking of bound chickens awaiting the slaughter.

And the souks (marketplaces)! Sellers of every kind of goods shouting out at the crowds (especially in Marrakesh, the tourist capital of Morocco). It was overwhelming sometimes to walk in the souks with everyone shouting at you to "Buy this! Buy that! Good price!" And of course, the ever-present sound of the call to prayer five times a day blasting from loud speakers across the medinas from each mosque. One of the highlights of my trip to Morocco was hearing belly-dancing music in a bar in Fes and getting introduced to a Moroccan belly-dance master by my Saudi friend and learning some new moves to supplement my knowledge of the dance (I learned the Lebanese style). I think I surprised my friends from the tour with my dancing ability! 


The sounds of Morocco will stay with you. Indeed, I find myself still wanting to use what few Arabic words I learned while there. I miss the sounds of the donkeys and the markets, and the birds in the small towns and gardens.

My next blog will be about the tastes, touch/feel, and smells of Morocco as my tour through the senses continues. Stay tuned! 













Monday 20 October 2014

A day trip to Ronda

Ronda is a quaint little town in Andalusia that was one of the last Moorish bastions in Spain. It finally fell to the Christians in 1485. The reason why it remained for so long in the hands of the Moors is that Ronda is located perched atop of a 330 foot gorge, with a bridge crossing from the old to the new town. This gave the Moors the advantage with repelling intruders from their hilltop location.

Above: an aeral shot of Ronda (a postcard I bought). The bridge is in the bottom centre-right of this photo (in shadow). You can see the bullring in the bottom left of the photo, with its classic ochre coloured sand in the centre of the ring.

The train ride from Málaga to Ronda takes about two hours and cost about €8 return for an adult ticket with a rail pass. There are only two trains to Ronda from Málaga per day, and only one train return, so I had to make the most of my 4.5 hours while I was there. The terrain that I traveled through was very arid and mountainous. It felt like another world from the gardens and beaches of Málaga. Olive trees dot the landscape in all directions. 


Next two photos: One of the best places to take in the view of the bridge is the delightful Casa de Bosco. The €2 entry fee affords a view framed by it's garden and fountain that is hard to rival.
 

Ronda is very walkable, from the train station to the tourist office is about a 15 minute walk downhill. The old town has so many museums, it was hard to choose what to see. Most of the people in the tourist office and restauranteurs speak about four languages! English, French, German, and of course, Spanish. Many tourists visit Ronda to see the bridge and the gorge but also because Ronda is the home of bullfighting. The Plaza de Toros bullring is the oldest in the world - 18th century - but the bullfighting cooperative (Real Maestranza) has existed since 1572 in Ronda. The first bullfight in the ring took place in 1785, when local matador hero, Pedro Romero, created a new and modern style of bullfighting. Romero himself killed over 6000 bulls in his lifetime. He even has a street named after himself in the town. Ronda hosts the Corrida Goyesca each September and millions watch it on TV. It is the dream of aspiring matadors to fight at Ronda during this competition.

Above: the bullring and gate number 5. Visitors can tour the bullring and take in a small museum about the history of bullfighting. It is the first building in the world built specifically for the purpose of bullfighting.

Below: the larger-than-life bull statue outside the ring.

I am, admittedly, not a fan of bullfighting. To be honest, I feel that it's cruel to tease, wound, and finally kill an animal in the name of "sport." But, this is not my culture, I'm merely a visitor to this culture. However, it is interesting to note that in Catalonia they have banned the sport of bullfighting for the reasons I've mentioned. I don't fully understand the "why" of this sport. I wanted to visit the museum inside the bullring to gain a better understanding of the history and development of bullfighting. But due to short duration of my trip and the timing of the trains, I was unable to do so. Entry is approximately €7 for an adult ticket and audioguides are available.

Ronda has inspired many writers and artists over the years - Hemingway, Rilke, and other poet types fell in love with it's whitewashed houses, beautiful vistas, and charming winding little streets. It's easy to see why artistic types would be drawn to this town. Here are some views to take in:
Above right: the remains of the Moorish wall and battlements can be seen peeking down the narrow streets. 

Above left and below: typical houses and views from within the old part of town.

The museum that I spent te most time in is the Lara Museum, which holds an eclectic mix of artifacts from 17-19th centuries, inluding: clocks, watches, sewing machines, hand painted fans, opera-glasses, vintage microscopes, carriages, photography and movie cameras, ornamental guns, a rather ridiculous witchcraft exhibit, and these oddities:
Above: handcarved pipes that are quite the works of art. Second photo is of a seven-barrelled handgun that was used to dispel mutinies aboard sea-going vessels. How this was achieved is rather up to interpretation, however.

The part of the museum that I was most interested to visit was their exposition on the Spanish Inquisition. After being disappointed in Seville at the Castillo de St. Jorge, I was not disappointed in Ronda. Perhaps I have a morbid sense of curiosity. But I think it's more that I'm baffled and amazed at how humans can be so malicious towards each other. The Lara museum had an array of torture devices and explanations of how they were used. 

Below: This man, Thomás de Torquemada, was known as the "hammer of heretics" because he was overly zealous in his pursuit of cleansing the population of supposed non-believers.

Above: the inquisitior's court. The alleged heretic was clapped in chains and a cone was placed upon his or her head depicting satan dancing around a fire while the two inquisitors questioned the person. Prisoners were considered guilty upon arrest until proven innocent. More often than not, victims of the Inquisiton died from torture before their innocence could be "proven."

Below: a wax model of a woman suspended while being tortured to entice her to confess her heretical crimes. Right - a copy of the Iron Maiden of Nuremberg. The victim was placed inside and the spiked doors were slowly closed upon the person within.

The museum also has a rack, a garotte (a chocking device that was used in Spanish prisons until the death of dictator General Franco in 1975), a head-crusher (which is still used as a device of interrogation but non-lethally), and most disturbing of all - a Judas Cradle. I won't describe what this last torture device looks like or how it's used...if you are really curious, google it. Suffice to say, it looks like the most cruelly painful device ever imagined by a human mind. Even the guillotine is more merciful. I'm sure Europe breathed a collective sigh of relief when the Inquisition finally ended in the 18th century. I'm amazed that it lasted so long.

I wish I had either visited Ronda as a day trip from Seville (where more trains are available) or that I stayed overnight to take in more attractions, like the Bandelero Museum which is an exposition of bandits, highwaymen, and the development of the Spanish civil police to track and catch these brigands. If I'm back this way again some day, I will definitely be returning to Ronda. 















Monday 13 October 2014

Much ado about Málaga

Málaga is a pretty port city on the eastern Andalusian coast. It, like other cities on my journey, was a former Roman colony where fish was the primary commodity. The city has a few archeological sites of import - an exposed Roman amphitheatre at the foot of the 8-11th century CE Alcazaba - but is essentially a modern city. The main draw of tourists to Málaga is it's beaches, of which there are several very close to the downtown core. I was glad to arrive at the beginning of October when the majority of the beach going tourists had vacated the city. My hostel (Patio 19) was fairly quiet as a result, but I didn't mind having a bit of relaxation after running around both Seville and Córdoba.

To get acquainted with the town, I went on the free walking tour arranged by another hostel (the Oasis). Unfortunately, the walking tour guide (who was Italian) didn't have the best English, so it was difficult to follow along with what he was saying. I probably didn't help matters by correcting his English idioms but as a former English language teacher, I only wanted to assist him as he struggled to narrate our tour. We started in the main square, the Plaza de la Constitucion (next two photos).



Afterwards, he took us to the Cathedral, which has the nickname of the La Manquita or "one-armed lady" as the cathedral was to have two matching bell towers but funds as the time of its building were diverted to California. When funds became available, the church decided not to complete the second bell tower because the locals all knew the cathedral by its nickname, and colloquialism trumped completion-ism. After seeing many churches & cathedrals along my winding road of a journey, I decided to save my money and skip visiting this one. Here are a few shots of the outside of the cathedral.



Below: stained glass adorns the entrance to the public market. There is a dazzling display of produce, fungi, Málaga almonds, and fish. The market closes by 2pm.

Málaga is the birthplace of the father of cubism - Pablo Picasso. He lived there until about age 16 when he went off to art school. He last was in Málaga for Christmas during his 20th year before going to Paris, where he was influenced by the French school of painting. Critics say that Picasso really became an artist in Paris, that it matured his style. The Meseo Picasso Málaga displays a broad spectrum of his works in various media and styles. It was his express wish that a museum be founded in his home town, and his daughter-in-law and grandson made that wish a reality. The museum is open every day until 8pm except Mondays, and an adult ticket costs €8 with €1 for an audioguide (well worth it in my opinion). The museum's best feature is a film about Picasso's life,where you can see this quirky artist entertaining guests and working, while the narrator (in English with Spanish subtitles) describes parts of his life and the evolution of his artwork. Picasso is best known for developing cubism, but he really did paint in every style and dabbled with ceramics and sculpture. The visit takes approximately two hours.


The other thing Málaga is known for is their sweet wines, particularly Pedro Ximen. There are three varieties of this Málaga wine: dry white, sweet (almost like a tawny port), and semi-sweet, which is a blend of the other two. I had the opportunity to taste all three varieties during my walking tour at a wine bar called Antigua Casa de Guardia which has been in business since 1840 and four generations of the same family work there. A glass of wine costs only €1.40, and it's for this reason that the bar closes by 7pm to dissuade folks from coming in at night to get drunk for cheap. You can source these wines at local bars around town as well. My favourite was the semi-sweet wine. 


Below: the excavated Roman amphitheatre and Moorish Alcázba rising above it, lit up at night in downtown Málaga.

The food in Málaga varies greatly depending on where you eat and how much you are willing to pay. I had only one meal that really pleased my palette, which was at the Mesón de Cervantes which is affiliated with a restaurant literally 30 feet away (Tapeos de Cervantes). There I had some very tasty tapas, wine, and a desert to die for. Most nights, I made myself a giant salad from fixings derived at the local supermarket, and washed down with a cheap (€2.65) but great Roja wine. Thank goodness for kitchens in hostels!

Below: the very delectable meal I had at Mesón de Cervantes (cost around €14).

On my fourth day in Málaga, I rented a bicycle for an entire day (€10) to go to the beach. I wanted to cycle outside of the town as I was informed by my walking tour guide that the city's beaches were artificial, and I wanted to have some more peace and quiet. The bike ride along the beach is a pedestrian/cycling route only, which made it not only safe, but enjoyable as well. I cycled for about an hour and spotted a nice sheltered beach with coves on both sides which made it great for swimming. The water was crystal clear and very salty. The views reminded me so much of Mexico, I wonder if the Spanish felt at home there when they first landed. All the beaches along the waterfront are wheelchair accessible, and most have accessible toilets as well.


The day before I left Málaga, I took in the Museo de Artes Populaire in the former Mesón de la Victoria inn (18th century). This museum depicts the life and culture of Málaga in the 18th and 19th centuries in terms of farming, clothing, crafts, and religion. Entrance costs €4 for an adult but no audioguide is available (which would have greatly enhanced the experience in my opinion). A few items stood out from my visit:

Above: a press to pound grapes into the delicious sweet wines the region is famous for.

Below: raisin box liners from Málaga - I think this looks like a work of art. It's hard to imagine it lining a lowly raisin box.

Below: a dress from the 19th century that would've been worn by a bourgeoisie woman. I thought it was stunning to behold. 

On my last night in Málaga, I went with two ladies from my hostel to take in a live music show (which sadly wasn't flamenco) at the famous Bodega El Pimpi where many famous Andalusian (like Málaga-born António Banderas) frequent to sign the wine barrels. I think Banderas actually added the new upstairs modern section as his last name is written on a life-ring mounted on the wall. No visit to Málaga would be complete without a visit to this bar/restaurant. It's sandwhiched between the Alcázba and the Picasso Foundation. 


I was hoping to have another beach day before I left for Morocco, but alas, 'twas not meant to be. I did however, manage to squeeze in a day trip to Ronda, which shall be the subject of my next blog post.