Málaga: day uno y dos

I don't know how many times in my life I will experience Christmas in Málaga, so at least for the sake of decency, or as I call it, for my future self, I have to write down how it felt. Firstly, I arrived here on December 24th early in the morning, and the night before, I had slept only two hours on the plane. Physically, I was very exhausted, but I was so eager to see the sun that I couldn't fall asleep. I could check into the hotel only at three in the afternoon, so I left my things there and went for a walk.

I found a local little cafe where elderly people were sitting. It was a typical Spanish place. The waiter quickly spoke to me in Spanish, and I responded in English. Unpleasant. I ordered a typical breakfast – toast with butter and jam, coffee with milk, and orange juice. At the table next to me, there was a man with a medium-sized dog. The dog begged him for food, almost howling. It was so funny to me, so I stared at her, and she, catching my gaze, started changing positions from paw to paw and literally complaining to me. God, I was so hungry; I ate everything very quickly and went inside to pay.

The whole interior was so familiarly Spanish. It's strange that Spain, or more precisely Barcelona and Andalusia, have become the most comfortable places for me. Even the Spanish language resonates with me as a third native language. Like a language that I learned in parts and absorbed from street conversations, signs, descriptions of dishes, music, and movies. And the open, friendly culture that I appreciate so much in southern countries.

While I was eating, men – runners dressed in Christmas hats, ran past the tables. They waved to the tables and shouted, "Merry Christmas." All the aunts and uncles were distracted from their food and shouted back very loudly, also wishing Merry Christmas. Bravo! And Vale! They shouted as well. I love it when people just rejoice.

When I come to a new city, I rarely look at the map. I just follow people, shops, cafes, and graffiti. Of course, this way I usually miss some monuments, but I see life as it is in that place. I get lost, of course, but I get lost everywhere; it just requires more walking.

Here, when I walked down the main street, I just fell in love with this sunny city. All the buildings seemed to be built to absorb the sun. The sun was not just in the sky; each building was the sun. This architecture is very similar to Barcelona, and the streets paved with marble fascinated and irritated me at the same time. It's impossible to take bad photos here. The city is just beautiful as it is, and that's it. There's nothing to look for; there's no hidden agenda. It's just very beautiful, period. It's boring, yes, but on the other hand, it's relaxing. You just enjoy what's there and that's all.

I try to imagine what would happen to me if I were born in such a city, where everything is very beautiful, the sun shines all the time, the food is delicious, and in the summer, there are many tourists. It's hard for me to imagine. Would I become lazy? Would I want to leave? Where to? To Barcelona or to another country? I don't know what's better, to move somewhere with many opportunities but where you know for sure that the climate and culture are not to your liking, or to move somewhere where you really like the climate and culture, but there are very few opportunities to grow. Ideally, of course, find a place where there are many opportunities and the climate is good, but such places are usually quite expensive. Ideally, I would live in Barcelona. Ideally, I would live in Barcelona with A., and we would have a cat, maybe even two. Of course, this will never happen.

I have to say that I am broken by the fact that it seems I no longer talk to A. at all. And I don't want to see him either. And it was my initiative. But no one is blocking anyone anywhere. It's just that's it – he knows about it, I know about it. I must say it hurts a lot, but I've survived worse situations. I remember my diary that I kept last year because A. gave me a notebook. Last New Year, I wrote there that I hope to spend the next New Year hugging A. in Spain. Unfortunately, it won't happen. Although this New Year will be in Spain, it doesn't make me happy at all.

I really missed the sun, and the feeling that the sun is all I can write about now. From the 24th to the 25th, I slept for 12 hours. I knew I was tired, but not to this extent – I fell asleep at six in the evening and woke up at 8 in the morning. I decided to have breakfast at the café downstairs in the hotel. I walked along the entire coastline; some crazy German tourists decided to swim. Half-naked, very muscular guys worked out on outdoor exercise machines; it's always pleasant to watch. It's nice to see elderly couples strolling along the shore, and younger couples. In general, all I see around are couples, families, groups of friends. What I don't see are solo travelers. For this reason, I feel a bit like a white crow. On the other hand, it's understandable – Christmas is a family holiday. So, my joy in the sun is replaced by grief for friends and family.

I walked to some suburb, there were many private houses and many cafes crowded with people. I felt awkward taking a table alone because no one sits alone, at least two people, and the tables are very close to each other. I just walk, look, listen to music. I feel great, so nice to see the sun after its absence for two weeks, to see some colors other than gray, white, and black.

When I got back from the suburb to the city, I found myself near some fortress with many tourists heading towards it. I followed them. The fortress turned out to be very high; it was strategically built in the 12th century to guard the city. You can buy a ticket for both the first and second fortress, and it will be valid for two days. I thought I wouldn't manage the second one today, but I'll pass through this one. At five, the sun began to slowly set, making all the landscapes especially beautiful. The most unpleasant moment was when I thought the film in my analog camera got stuck. I opened it to see if the film was advancing, and it seemed to be advancing, but it looked like I accidentally exposed many photos, and I don't even know which ones. I started taking silly photos without understanding if anything would come out in the end.

I was very tired and went back to the hotel. But it was only six in the evening. I thought I would rest and maybe go out again in the evening, but apathy and sadness about being alone began to overtake me. In such moments, I can't meet anyone or start a conversation. I just feel bad and want it to pass; for this, I have to do something I like, for example, watch a movie, take photos, read.

I went out of the hotel to see what was happening on the street. There were a lot of people outside. All the closed cafes were open, and people were sitting everywhere. On the main square, there was a stage where they played the Spanish guitar and danced flamenco. As I walked along the main street, some strange man asked me in Spanish to take a photo of him with his wife and child. I said yes. When I was taking their photo, it was strange that none of them smiled, even the child. It seemed like they were from Latin America. That was all. I walked along a few new streets and went back.

I don't know what conclusions to draw here – try to live where the sun shines and where you don't have to wear four layers of clothes if possible?