See Malaga or die

I tried this new thing recently. Hanging out at a hostel but not actually staying there. Creeper alert.

Malaga provided me this new outlook as well as an insight into it’s municipality system. One of which I could have done without.

I stayed in a city apartment less than a kilometre’s walk from Oasis Hostel Malaga, where my friends work for See Malaga or Die. What is this trendy but life questioning titled group? All you need to know is it’s your key to the best fun, food and festivities in Malaga.

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I got to have all the fun side of hostel living without bunk beds, with a room to myself, without communal showers, with bath, without awkward roomie chats, with friends. Each morning we’d mosey on down to the hostel for their amazing three euro breakfast. Pick from bacon and eggs, pancakes or the healthier option. All made with love.

We’d also make an appearance for the dinner nights like paella and all you can eat tapas. Because having too much of a good thing doesn’t exist in a place like Malaga. Excess is encouraged.

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After Budapest and Malaga, I’ve changed my mind on pub crawls. I’m a convert. But the nightlife in M town is pretty solid. From the wall of shots and one litre mojitos in Monkey House to the opulence and DJ spinning the kind of stuff that keeps you glued to the dance floor in Sala Gold.

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The World Cup finals were on during my visit. Not my cup of tea but introduced me to Soho. One euro tapas that make you go mmm. Please sir may I have some more. Why not, they’re one euro.

As a group from the hostel (and we outsiders) are taken to Nejar one sunny wind-free day. I was recovering from a gnarly migraine so wasn’t entirely convinced but glad I went indeedily. Nejar is a tourist town, but less ‘uck’ then some others in the region. Beautiful beaches dot the coastline with azure clear waters. So fresh and so clean, clean. We are taken kayaking. There’s also hosted snorkelling day trips on other days. All the social benefits of a hostel with activities thrown in. Aw friends, aw new seaside friends.

Anyway I digress. The kayaking is an absolute highlight. Bruised head be damned. I be brave and take out a solo kayak. Now my past CV on kayaking is not pretty. I’m the asshole that is yards behind the group not able to keep up. Wah it’s hard. But this time I nailed it. I don’t know if it had something to do with the flat conditions we were blessed with but Rio 2016 look out.

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We cruise along slowly alongside the cliffs navigating the rocky outline, greeted with cliff jumpers, magical caves, and rock faces that are literally that. Around every corner there is a new lion, turtle or elephant to be spotted in the natural sculptures. Then you peer around the next bend and a waterfall appears, and then around the next another, each more beautiful then the last. You arch back in your kayak and take in the beauty of such a moment. And then you really take it in, steering your tiny plastic ship underneath the fall, being smashed by the pelting water in the most delightful way. Paradise.

Snorkels are handed out and we dive the waters searching for creatures. Here fishie fishie fishie. The guide’s GoPro is whipped out for fisheyed memories to last a lifetime.

We meander back. Well I gun it, because I’m just that, a gun kayaker. Back to take advantage of the “hostelatily”!

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