24 Hours in Spain

I find myself in Malaga. Well, it isn't exactly surprising; I planned it. But I'm on my way to other things, and overnighting in Malaga was part of the plan. Doing damn near nothing here was less of a plan. There's a Picasso Museum that might be worth a look. But it's raining. Not grab-an-umbrella-and-suck-it-up rain, but phone-screaming-an-extreme-weather-alert raining. The alert itself is in Spanish, which is of limited use to me. (My phone is buzzing so annoyingly loud about it, I want to "accept" it off my screen before I think to screenshot it and run it through Google Translate. But I eventually hunt down the text - they're expecting 120 mm (4.75 inches) of rain over 12 hours. Add in the winds which were pushing me up the block (conveniently, I was headed that way anyway) and this is no time to explore. This is time to grab some food at the restaurant next to the hotel and hunker down. (Yeah, we all know my Spanish is not up to the challenge. As an Angeleno, I come here with the ability to count to 10, ask for another beer, seek out the library, and understand my soft taco options at that stand that used to be at the Music Center. Oh, and some swears. Hello, Google Translate.) So, my taxi driver (with very little English) and I (with un poquito Espanol) made it to my hotel in friendly silence. Once I settled in, I went for a walk around the block to get my bearings. Was pleased to pass a local comic book shop - didn't go in, but I felt like I knew where my nerds were. Spied a few places that were worth further exploration, but the winds really started kicking up on the third leg of the square and I decided to indefinitely postpone further exploration and instead slip into the highly-rated tapas fusion joint next to my hotel. It was mostly empty, but set up for two massive parties, so I got crammed in a tiny table in the corner. I'll be honest, I'd researched menus of nearby places earlier, and while it isn't exactly a traditional Spanish dish, I'd kind of been wanting the mushroom and duck breast risotto here. OMG, yes. Soooo tasty. But I also have a rule about stepping a smidge out of my comfort zone. Not TOO far, but I've got to try something a bit more localish. So, my risotto was on preceded by some chicharron de Cadiz, which was extremely flavorful and I sucked it down as though I'd actually intended what I'd ordered and hadn't just took a wild shot at the local pork thing. Had a hard time getting my bill and paying. I made all gone with my food and politely declined a coffee, but the bill - she didn't come. By this time, the massive parties had arrived and the wait staff was going crazy serving then both many plates of tasty goodies and the bartender was working double time too. I had put on my jacket, held my wallet in my hand, asked Google Translate how to ask for the bill (and had done a deep dive into Spanish tipping practices while waiting) and still couldn't catch anyone's attention to get la cuenta. Eventually, I managed eye contact with the bartender and successfully completed the transaction. Popped over to my hotel just as the rain started falling. My hotel is home to a little bakery/cafe, so I grabbed a tea and dessert for later, took it up to my room, and settled in to watch the one English-language channel while the storm raged.