Our train isn’t until 10pm and Cortney has nasty case of food poisoning. As seems to often be the case on Fridays in Spain it was a holiday, Labor Day I do believe and we were unable to keep our room as the entire pension was booked out. Thankfully the owner walked me over to a friends pension where he thought there might be a room.
There was a single for only 16 Euros and I grabbed it. It look quite a while as the little, old lady who owns the place can barely get up the stairs and has almost completely lost her hearing. Very cute and very fantastic that Cort can sleep away the day until our train….if she can even get on it.
After moving Cortney to her new digs’ Nathan and I had an entire day to kill. Don’t get me wrong, Santiago is a beautiful city with lots to do but it was a holiday and only restaurants were open. In the end Nate and I chilled out and several different cafes moving between coffees and wine. Not a hard way to kill a day really.
Cortney decided she could do the train thing which was a nine hour overnight train to Madrid before changing stations and jumping on another three hour high speed train to Malaga. The 1km walk almost killed poor Cort but she pulled it off. The train had sleepers (not for us unfortunately) and tourist or second class. Not a full train so tourist class worked out fine.
Jumped off train number one and had to get onto a local train to get us to Atocha Station where our train to Malaga departs from. Easy as pie except for the fact that Cort is still battling a nasty bug in her body. A ten minute train ride and an hour wait later (over coffee of course) we where in our cozy first class seats off to the sunny beaches along the coast of Spain. Only a few of us on the train to Malaga as well. Nothing wrong with Tourist Class but a First Class ride every now and again hit’s the spot.
Malaga is a decent size city (600,000) that sits on the coast of Spain. The beloved Picasso is from Malaga and he has a museum in the city. It had been a tough decision but we decided to stay in Torremolinos just south of Malaga instead of in the city itself.
OK. So we are on train number three now (train to Madrid, local across town, high speed to Malaga). Just one more train and we are there. Another local train down to Torremolinos. Even at the train station in Malaga you can tell we are in tourist central. The ticket machines cover all the major languages and you can hear the buzz of different accents in the air. All the sunburn bodies was a bit of a giveaway as well.
This last train was buzzing with activity. Travelers with there suitcases, backpackers navigating their packs around people, English retirees, and sun baked 20 something English girls with sunburns and very few clothes. We kicked back and enjoyed the activity especially the just over middle aged drunk Spanish ladies out for a mid-day booze fest in Malaga.
Found our hostel with trouble and put Cort to bed at last. It is now May 2.
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