Back in Málaga

Had I been feeling more adventurous I might have planned my route back to Málaga through some of the other beach towns on the Mediterranean Sea, but I've been craving routine. It was nice to return to a familiar town and know where I was going to sleep every night, even thought I took a few day trips.

I could really see myself living here. By this point I've already tried all of the typical Spanish food, so I branched out to see what I'd actually want to eat day to day if I were a local. I had some surprisingly good Korean and Japanese food, and unbelievable Neapolitan pizza. By the way, while the US debates about whether pineapple belongs on pizza, tuna is a perfectly normal topping in Spain.

I ordered milanesa (basically chicken-fried steak) at a tapas restaurant and had to chuckle at how American it looked on the plate, served with French fries and ranch dressing. When they brought the same order out to an American couple who sat beside me, I turned to the husband and said "Ah, another admirer of fine cuisine, I see." He didn't seem to pick up on the humor, so I pressed on. "Before you try that sauce, you should know it's very special. They import it from the Hidden Valley and age it in plastic bottles." The wife didn't notice the absurdity of that claim but politely said "Oh, cool!" Their conversation resumed at a very hushed volume, suddenly aware that others around them may be able to interpret their secret language.

I hadn't been to an AA meeting since I was last in Málaga (there weren't any English meetings in the smaller cities), but a new friend invited me back to speak at a Sunday night meeting. Málaga has a great fellowship, and that's another one of the elements that makes me think I would enjoy living here.

Another draw to living here (which I've avoided writing about lest I do so distastefully) is Spanish women. Flirting has become a capital offense in the US. I've heard both men and women express frustration about this. Personally, I don't even attempt a friendly platonic conversation with women I don't know if they're under 30. But Spanish women are so confident and self assured that flirting is easy. If they aren't into it, they'll roll their eyes and ignore you. If they're into it, they'll roll their eyes and smile. But at no point do they shrivel, wince, and wish for a totalitarian state capable of policing all interactions between individuals and enforcing ever stricter behavioral standards to prevent the possibility of hurt feelings. Spanish women act like human beings. Sometimes they're entertained, sometimes they're not, and if someone crosses the line, they'll tell the person off.

My cultural programming caused problems in a few of these interactions. In Tarifa, a young Spanish hippie with her dog walked by me and smiled, walked a few feet past me, then stopped and took off her top. I had some mistaken notion that it was my job to make her feel comfortable by making no acknowledgement of her existence. We both looked out at the beach for a few minutes until she crossed in from of me, waved at me, then called out to her dog and walked back the same way she had come from. I only put it together later that she might have been thinking "Dios mío, what have I got to do to get this guy's attention?" My normal sense of being a gentleman would have been sufficient to guide me through that situation, but the implanted liberal guilt made me believe that any discomfort this very vulnerable topless woman felt in my presence must be entirely my fault. One of the benefits of traveling has been the ability to observe the arbitrariness of cultural standards and get better at identifying what works for me and what doesn't.

I also enjoy the authenticity of emotion here. Spanish women don't seem to feel any pressure to laugh "politely." If they don't find you funny, they won't be laughing. People in customer service don't recite chipper little monologues, they just greet you like a human being. If they're annoyed, it'll show.

I have to acknowledge that there's no way this dynamic would exist if Spanish men weren't also playing their part. If Spanish men behaved as monstrously as American frat boys, Spanish women might be more fearful and withdrawn. My intention isn't a one-sided misogynistic criticism of American women. I'm just enjoying a culture that isn't at war with itself.

Since I've had four nights in Málaga, I've branched out and taken a few day trips to areas outside of the city but still serviced by the same metro light rail system. There are a few botanical gardens, an old Roman theater, a goofy "castle" built in the 1980s to celebrate the discovery of America (which feels like a bizarre sentiment for 1987, but whatever), and some decent art museums. If I lived here it would be easy to take weekend motorcycle rides out to cities like Ronda and Granada that aren't more than an hour and a half away.

Since my European adventure is coming to a close and I've done a decent job of staying on budget, I decided to splurge on a nicer hostel. Two rooms with private entrances share a bunk space, but it's fully enclosed and very private. The walled off space above my bed is the bed for the neighboring room.

Next stop: Amsterdam. I initially thought I just had an hour and a half layover in Amsterdam, but when I checked the ticket I realized that I have a full thirteen and a half hours overnight. I don't want to mess around with public transit on a weekday morning in a strange city before an early flight, so I booked a room in an airport hotel. However, I'm going to head out tonight and explore the town. You can expect another blog post in a day or two.