I'm enjoying Malaga immensely, and Antonio Banderas looms ever larger in the collective minds of Malaguenos and tourists alike. More on that later. For now, some more images...

Because sometimes, just being a tourist isn't awkward enough.

8:30am at my new gym

Malaga has a great public garden just between the city center and the port

Malaga is the birthplace of Pablo Picasso, where he stayed until age 10.



This week marked the 6-month point of my departure from Canada. The last time I was abroad for this amount of time was at the age of 23, in New Zealand, post-university, pre-corporate life.

And I realize there are a few similarities in both instances - meeting new people from all over the world helps expand one's brain, seeing many things for the very first time never gets old, and getting utterly frustrated when lost in a new city still happens.

But there are some significant differences...

  • At 37, I've actually opted once or twice for a good night's sleep instead of a sure thing; at 23, I would have ridden two buses, a donkey, and walked 3 miles barefoot just for shot at a highly uncertain thing.

  • At 23, I was pretty concerned with how my hair looked; at 37, I am pretty concerned about how my ear hair looks. (FYI - not good. Ear hair. Seriously?)

  • At 23, I was a pretty healthy guy on the road, interested in eating regularly. At 37, I am just interested in being regular.
And I imagine some more differences will come to light in the next few months. Meanwhile, some more photos from Malaga below and a post about Antonio Banderas to come.

The new office. Note the concealing of ear hair.

How good is Malaga? Coffee, freshly-squeezed orange juice, and a fresh ham baguette for 4 Euros. Oh, and the view.

Dia Uno


In Malaga for the next two weeks. May never return. Lengthier posts to come. Me gusto.

A heated debate: "I'm paler! No, I'm paler"