Sola, translates to [female] alone.
I was sola in Malaga and absolutely thrilled about it. I know this is a hard to believe, but I enjoy traveling by myself. I look forward to the challenge of exclusively overcoming obstacles on a trip. After working endlessly as a nanny, I only had to claim responsibility for one, myself. While I had the liberty of spontaneously enjoying my vacation based off my wants and needs, I was never necessarily alone. Because while I love being independent I also cherish the company of others. It was the best option I could have ever hoped for. I didn’t have to make any compromises or make others make compromises, I did exactly what I wanted when I wanted with no guilt and all while being surrounded by other solo travelers. This is why staying at hostels is cool, you get to meet all sorts of people from all around the world who are more often than not also traveling alone. This trip was miraculously filled with lots of 20 (give or take a few) year olds who were all solo as well.
I have only had a few hostel experiences (I am more of an airbnb gal), and all of my experiences were with friends so this was new for me. I decided to stay in a ten bed mixed room because it was the cheapest and it seemed logical to me that it would be the safest…idk.. more witnesses? Anyhoo I felt like I made the right decision. The most important things to remember while staying in a hostel are to have a little lock with a key on you (so if you have a backpack like mine you can lock the zippers up together) to ensure security with your belongings. Another crucial item is SHOWER SHOES!! I forgot flip flops to wear in the shower and it was disgusting. Won’t make that mistake again… More important things to note when browsing for hostels is that they have a cool central community zone. This hostel was a favorite of mine mostly because of the awesome rooftop terrace that gave free sangria every night and free dinner if you signed up in time. This provided beautiful views of the city and made it effortless to socialize with other people staying at the hostel.
Thanks to airbnb I was able to secure a few things on my agenda in case of Malaga being a lame city, which it’s not. I signed up for a yoga class on the beach one morning and an Olive Oil tour the next day (yes, it was as nerdy as it sounds!). For yoga I woke up early and met the instructor after a fifteen minute walk to the beach, there was one other woman who attended the class who was from Argentina and did yoga with this particular instructor every week (she is living the life). The three of us had a lot of fun stretching, breathing, and relaxing on the sand as we watched the waves roll in and out. This was so much peaceful, I didn’t even realize the burn the sun was giving me that would end up lasting about two weeks. By the end, they both gave me their numbers, numbers of people they know in Madrid, and invited me to yoga sessions the next two days. See, not alone!
The olive oil tour was a bit different but equally enjoyable. I left the hostel a bit early and was picked up by a cab for a 40ish minute drive through the country side. This was breathtaking. My cab driver considered Malaga to be “too big of a city,” so it was interesting getting his take on all of the pueblos and surroundings. After the scenic views and funny conversations, we arrived. The driver thought it would be expensive and challenging for me to find a cab back to the “city” so he just waited for me for a few hours and didn’t charge extra! During this time, I learned the process of ecological olive oil from root to bottle. I got to know the latest technology. I memorized that it is quality over quantity which is achieved through using ripe olives, mixing them for the correct amount of time in the perfect temperature. The man who gave me the tour works 14 hours a day during olive season and spends his time collecting olives, not letting them touch anything or they are no good, then working the process of the oil making. The factory was an ancient building that had always been in their family, however it used to be primarily used for making and storing wine (In a room where they wouldn’t let women enter because that was considered bad luck). They also used to have a donkey make the olive oil by walking in laps which would spin the olives (does this make anyone else think of that scene in Pirates of the Caribbean? Oh..Will Turner..so dreamy) and they would pour the olive oil on the floor, the same floor that the donkey would use as his bathroom. Boy am I thankful for technology and evolution! Once the tour was over and I asked every single question in Spanish that I could possibly think of… achieving my goal of hearing the guide say, “Wow, I have never heard that question before” and “huh, thats a new one.” I’d say it is safe to say that I got my moneys worth. So, once the tour was over I got to taste test the different olive oil they make. Of course, the only way to do this was through bread, we are in Spain after all; but gluten! yikes! I ended up buying a little bottle/souvenir for my parents and bosses. Then the cab driver drove me to the largest olive oil tree in Spain (pretty cool, right!?), also free of charge! I don’t know about you but I always wonder who is the photographer of all the insta pics of people on solo trips; well in my case it was my cab driver!
Now that the things I had planned were enjoyed, I filled the rest of my days with people from the hostel: Spending time at the beach, yoga on the beach, going to Picasso’s house and museum, going to the archeology and art museum of Malaga, doing a little hike, going on a bar crawl, and getting ice cream of course.
My trip was absolute perfect…until…. the last night. I had messed up on booking the hostel and didn’t realize that I had forgotten Saturday night. The hostel, being cool and all, was all filled up and didn’t have space for me that night. So I rented a single bedroom in an airbnb right next to the bus station, the place had good reviews and the pictures looked nice. It was not… The entire house smelled of menthol and cigarettes, that is until you got to the room I rented which solely smelled of pussy piss. Aka, the worst smell in the world! It gets worse, the comforter has covered in stains and little black hairs (I didn’t see a black pet while I was there..). The room and bathroom were covered in dust and were just plain gross. So the people I met at the hostel told me to come back and hang out with them on the terrace, which I did. Then only to have this old lady who was checking in wave her rotten finger from side to side at me, tell me I wasn’t allowed in, and slam the door on my face. Who does she think she is?? Someone let me in two seconds later.
But its whatever, you have to have some silly things happen on a trip so that you have a story to tell later, right? Next morning, I scurried out of that airbnb, jumped on the bus and binge watched the Netflix show Lucifer. I hope this post motivates someone to go to the underrated city known as Malaga.
(btw, got a full refund for the airbnb)