Málaga: Boulevards, Beach & Brushstrokes

No rushing today, just a leisurely midday hotel departure to wander around Málaga for the afternoon, before heading across the sea to Morocco tonight. It’ll be an artsy visit today, aiming to see a gallery, the Picasso Museum and some interesting buildings along the way. I’ve recently discovered an enjoyment of looking at art. I don’t get it, can rarely guess the artist’s intentions, but I find it a peaceful activity. It’s also by nature quite a slow activity.

Walking through the shipyard markets, I’m impressed by the wrought iron construction and stained glass window over the main entrance. It’s the kind of detail you don’t find in modern construction—the artistic flair. I find it fascinating how tourists (myself included) are drawn to fresh food markets. Are we planning a big cook-up where we need fresh spices, fruits and vegetables? Have we not seen food before? Surrounded by food, I remember to eat—something I’m not great at when I travel but seem to do nonstop at home.

I find a cute little vegetarian café serving a healthy-looking brunch. Lentils, kale, avocado, quinoa—I’m practically a health junkie after this filling breakfast. That is, if we forget to mention the bottle of Coca-Cola I had while waiting to check out of the hotel earlier. I sit for about an hour in the café—eating and writing a blog post. Trying to stay slow today, don’t want to burn out straight away.

Energy levels restored, it was time to get my arty-farty flair on. First stop: the Picasso Museum—only to find the queue just as long as yesterday. I pre-booked a ticket for later instead of lining up. So I skipped ahead to the more modern-looking gallery down by the marina. A slow walk through the streets and then a palm-lined boulevard park reminded me how different today’s pace was from yesterday’s.

At the end of the park, I reached the colourful glass cube sitting above the Centre Pompidou Málaga—beneath it, galleries and exhibition spaces. Despite planning this trip more thoroughly than usual, I hadn’t clocked that most of the main galleries were in changeover. Only one temporary exhibition was open: a collection by Vasily Kandinsky, a Russian painter I knew nothing about before today. Aside from a quick post-visit Google, I still know very little—but his work is stunning.

In retrospect, it was kind of fortuitous that only one gallery was open. It helped me stay slow—no FOMO, no rushing to see everything. Just a casual visit, chill air conditioning, and a few paintings. Gallery done, I added a stroll along the waterfront to the itinerary. I didn’t think I was in the market for a superyacht today, but if I were, there are a few here even seasick me would be comfortable in. My favourite was the one with its own garage for a speedboat. Size does matter sometimes.

Opposite the marina, I wandered down to the city beach. Strewn with umbrellas and beach bars where you can rent a cabana for the day, the sand had a gravelly, grey-dusty appearance. A few steps in and my black shoes were grey, so I retreated to the sealed path and wandered a few blocks—realising I’m just not a beach person—and headed back for the shade of the city park. Were these the same beaches where drunken passengers from that *Airline* show in the early 2000s got sunburnt and missed their flights? That was my only prior knowledge of Málaga—unless it was Alicante?

The heat was getting to me, so I bought a bottle of water and sat in a little garden beneath the Alcazar I visited yesterday. A sit-in-the-park rest was on my schedule today, and it was starting to feel necessary. I think I’ve missed the worst of the jet lag, but my body’s still telling me to slow down—or at least escape the sun. It’s technically a nap-free day, so I need to take it easy on myself.

Hydrated and recharged, it was time for my Picasso slot. Ahh, the air conditioning was the relief I needed—oh, and the art wasn’t bad either. I’m still convinced that to be a “good” artist, it’s not always about the work itself—it’s the branding, the hype, and how random (or clever) the paragraph is that explains it. Abstract basically means: make of it what you will. This might sound odd, but I’m often drawn to the colours of the gallery walls—shades that work brilliantly here, but would look absurd in your living room.

Art suitably appreciated, it was time to call my brief stay in Málaga to a close with a leisurely stroll back to the hotel to grab my bags and head to the aeropuerto. Regrets on visiting? None, really. I probably would’ve liked to arrive a little earlier and squeeze in a day trip to Torremolinos for Pride Week—but as an introvert travelling solo, that might not have been my scene. Still, anyone up for helping me win back my gay licence with a tour-de-European-prides in 2026?Читать далее