Malaga- me gusta de espeto des sardines por favor!*

B-A-N-A-N-A-S!!!!


*no idea if this is correct Spanish

We arrived in Malaga on Sept 21st at 10am. We had been up since 4am so we were tired and I was cranky, in desperate need of coffee. We had tried to look up how to get from the airport to our hotel which was just outside the town and basically the info we found online was "take the train from the airport into the center of the city and there's a bus". To make a long story very short: getting lost, one argument and two hours later we were checking into the hotel Domus which was 15 minutes down the road from the town. If your ever in Malaga, stay there. It was gorgeous and clean and the staff was very nice. Complete 180 from Vienna.

Thus began four wonderfully lazy but happy days. We wanted to recharge our batteries for the upcoming trip to Tangier and India and that's exactly what we did. The beaches in Malaga certainly are not the most picturesque in the world, but they did have something that made bill salivate from the first second he saw it- sardines on a stick. There were a string of restaurants that serve lunch along the stretch of beach we were staying on, and outside each one was a little shack with a row boat filled with sand. On top of the sand was a fire, and stuck in the sand over the fire were sticks with sardines on them. All bill wanted to do in Ibiza was catch a sardine and grill it over a fire in the sand. He was awestruck. And while we were eating our supermarket lunch of bread and cheese next to one of these shacks, a very salty sea captain looking man in a sailors cap came up and starting grilling and entire huge fish on one of the sticks. We decided we had to have these "espeto des sardines" and that's exactly what we did the very next day for lunch.

The town of Malaga is very boastful about being the birthplace of Picasso. You can take a walking tour of Picasso landmarks and visit the Picasso museum, neither of which bill and I did. We have visited so many museums, seen so much art, roman ruins, statues, churches, etc that we needed a break. Besides, we went to the Picasso museum in Barcelona a couple of years ago and I'm sure it was more of the same. I know, we are terrible former art students.
Malaga is a town that truly feels old world. I would not have been surprised if a Spanish conquistador came strolling out from one of the many tiny alleyways that zig zag through the town. The architecture beautiful and grand, a mix of roman (of course) remains and large stone and marble buildings dating back to the middle ages.

The foliage is lush and decadent. Enormous palm trees line every street, along with banana, lime and orange trees growing wild in every space not covered in stone. Bright green parrots live in the trees and peck at the fruit, causing the fruit to fall on the sidewalk below. I almost got knocked out eating my breakfast one morning. We caught the very tail end of the summer season so people were pleasantly scarce during our stay. As we were strolling along the beach one day, looking out over the sea and across to the port, I commented that I felt like we were in a strange paradise on the very edge of the earth. We were preparing for a trip to Tangier, which I'm not going to lie was scaring the bejeezuz out of me, and every time I looked at the horizon I felt like I was looking out at the unknown beyond. Maybe this is how sailors felt before they knew the earth was round? People in ancient times believed the rock of Gibraltar, and it's sister on the African side which formed the pillars of Hercules, were the gates to the end of the known world. We did end up visiting Gibraltar on our way to Tangier but that's a post of it's own....
We visited the castle in Malaga, ate some wild limes from the trees in the cathedral garden (shhhhh.....im pretty sure that was def against cathedral rules) The last day we were there we rented bikes and rode around the entire town, stopping along the way to by bus tickets to La Linea de la Conception, took a picture of the Malageta sign, and strolled through the local market admiring the fresh fish, meat and vegetables. We settled on plates of chorizo and manchengo which we ate in the central garden.

If your looking for a very slow, relaxing vaca in Europe the Costa Del Sol is absolutely the way to go.

-Claire

The Comfort Zone

After spending two days in Vienna, I was haunted by this feeling that I've been here before, that I've seen this city, and felt at home. It wasn't a sense of deja vu or a newly found appreciation for past lives, rather it was the sense of the familiar. Largely architectural in nature, it took me a while to realize I felt back in New York. Throw in the chic riverside bar with panoramic views and a trendy, no sign restaurant packed at 10pm on a Tuesday and the similarities were remarkable. Cementing the sense of comfort was a walk down a major shopping boulevard that had all the hallmark shops of Fifth Avenue and Soho.

The twist, was the overwhelming sense of class Vienna exudes. For example, the opera house has an exterior jumbotron so the less fortunate can also enjoy the opera. Not to mention the green belt of public buildings, with identical facing museums, various testaments to the Hapsburg's wealth, etc. The city is also saturated with cafes that serve as portals through time and space. While searching for an end of night espresso, we stumbled upon the Michele, a small cafe and pizzeria that our Italian friends testify to being straight out of Italy in the 1920's. The decor was antique (and most likely authentic) which helped create the sense that we were now part of Woody Allen's new movie (with a few minor substitutions). Claire's observation that Vienna could be the love child of Paris and New York couldn't have felt more true.

Having spent almost three months abroad only to feel like we were back in NYC however, began to paint a bigger picture: we never truly left our comfort zone. We had foreknowledge that a summer in Europe would be a step out of the zone before we leaped out of the zone (and into India), but in retrospect we barely put on our shoes. Well, maybe at least the socks...

With the exception of Zadar, we had visited places where we knew people and/or had an elementary language comprehension. I can speak a little German and a little Spanish, and we had friends in Berlin, Italy, and Ibiza. Even in Vienna, our friends from Italy now lived there. A convenience of timing, jobs, relationships and flight schedules. Perhaps more of a contrivance than a convenience, but to our benefit nonetheless.

Then we hit Malaga.

We were relieved to be back in warmer weather, but this time we were on our own. No friends, no phone and a barely passing ability to speak the local language. Unlike Ibiza, not a lot of English is spoken here. Best guesses, English words with Spanish accents, and hand gestures that hopefully won't be mistaken for insults would have to suffice. Despite these obstacles, we still felt, well, relaxed. The pace of the town and our experiences were not unlike our time in Zadar. Sit on the beach, eat seafood, explore the city, repeat. No hassles or feelings of discomfort here. "Una jarra de Cerveza con Esperato Sardinias" while starring off to the horizon would put anyone at ease.

Until you start thinking about the horizon.

Not the literal one, but the figurative one representing the "out there", or "just ahead". That, for us, is India. I've been joking along saying "India is going to punch our reality in the face" half believing it. Though after a day in Tangier, I fully believe it.

My personality skews towards "hope for the best, prepare for the worst". The problem is, I know ZERO about Morocco. It's hard to prepare for the worst when your not prepared at all. I'm not trying to say It's the shit hole 50% of the people you talk to say it is, but what I am saying is when you don't know where you are, don't speak the language, don't know the culture and stick out like a sore thumb, comfort takes a back seat to practical matters. Your priorities go from "let's get donuts from a street vendor" (which we later did anyway) to "don't let your wife out of your site" and so on.

We have left the comfort zone.

But we're soon heading back. We're only in Tangier for another day, followed by three days in Paris. Then we hit India. Which, hard to believe, might keep us in the zone. We did a ton of research, they're notorious English speakers, and at no point will we be on our own. Three weeks with a volunteer group followed by a week with a guided tour. Our expectations are reasonable: we know about the toilettes, customs, foods, etc to manage the experience as best we can and will just have to wing it from there. Compared to Tangier, we should be OK.

Then again, we're taking a 48 hour train ride from Delhi to Cochin... I really hate getting punched in the face.

- Bill