Amigos de Málaga

 Judy.  We always talk about how important the people we meet are to us, and this fourth trip to Málaga, has no exceptions. People in the suburb of El Palo seem to be friendlier. Maybe it's because they're not inundated with tourists, or maybe just because it's more relaxed here, but there are definitely those who have made our stay more enjoyable. And there are some whose names we don't even know.

I practice yoga at a very small studio two blocks from our place. Ana, the teacher, speaks no English, and is very patient when I don't quite get what she said. (I finally learned triangulo means "down dog".) She is small, kind, and tough as nails, and the women in the class have welcomed me with hugs and kind words I don't understand. At least I assume they're kind!

Ana is on the far right, but all of these yogis are special!

Ted plays pickleball in a nearby town. It's a popular sport here, and he's lucky when he can get a spot on the courts. Many of the players chat with him in Spanish and help in English when he struggles. He has learned to shout "Afuera!" when the ball is out.

We may not even know their names, but there are vendors and waiters who always have a smile and remember us.

This lady sells dried fruits and nuts and lets me ask in Spanish while she replies in English. We both practice.

 

At the best fruteria, this sweet owner picks out the best fruits and vegetables for us and always waves when we walk by.

There is a fabulous Argentine restaurant here, which is always busy, but the waiter stays cool and smiling, and makes us feel we're the only ones there.

I always take the stairs down from our sixth floor apartment, but one day my neighbor José was at the elevator when I entered the hall, so I joined him. AND-- the elevator stalled between floors. José called the company, and ten minutes later, the repairman arrived. Meanwhile, we spent some time getting to know each other. I'm not sure he remembers my name, but he always waves and calls me his fellow sobrevivor, or survivor. 

My fellow sobrevivor, José

About a year ago, we took part in a zoom book study, led by Hilary, a priest in a nearby town. He and his wife were in South America when we arrived, but as soon as they returned, he contacted us about having lunch and finally meeting in person. I forgot to take a photo, but he kindly sent one of him in Uruguay with his wife Marijke.

Hilary and Marijke in Uruguay

And of course there are the usual suspects, Fr. Louis from St. George's Anglican Church,

looking unusually serious

and Harvey and Colin, from England, who always seem to be here when we are. We visit them when we're in England.

Harvey expounds while Colin listens, their usual modus operandi

Needless to say, there are others--the man in the wheelchair on the third floor who takes his tiny dog Toby out several times a day and always speaks, Rosella, the warden at church, who goes out of her way to involve us, and many more.

We keep saying we won't come back, but we also keep changing our minds. And these folks are why.