Malaga is the gateway to the Costa del Sol for most of us. But stop in Antonio Banderas's home city and you'll find it's one of the few places in the area where you feel you're in Spain, writes Mary Boland
SPAIN’S SOUTHERN city of Malaga has two favourite sons. The name of the first, Pablo Picasso, is proudly brandished everywhere. It matters little that the artist lived there only for the first 10 years of his life: hotels, cafes, shops and even schools bear his moniker as though he never left. A cheeky promotional ploy, perhaps, but one that might be justified. After all, what tourism destination wouldn’t avail of the marketing opportunity, particularly one so overlooked and underestimated as Malaga, one of the few places on the Costa del Sol where you can still believe you’re in Spain?
You won’t see the name of the city’s other claim to fame, not yet at least, fronting sandwich bars and sweet shops. And yet, one tourism official whispered, “he’s doing far more to promote his native city than Picasso ever did when he was alive”. Málagueños get all misty-eyed at the mention of Antonio Banderas, who was not only born in their city but comes back regularly, never forgetting his Andalusian roots.
While Picasso’s self-imposed exile in France during Franco’s reign was hardly conducive to trips back home, “Antonio,” enthuses our tour guide, “is known in Hollywood for throwing flamenco parties, and he tells everyone about Malaga and why they should visit our great city, this unrecognised jewel on the Costa del Sol. We couldn’t have a better representative.”
We are sitting in the charming but slightly touristy Bodega El Pimpi, formerly a flamenco bar, beside Museo Picasso. Plates of jamón ibérico and sweet moscatel are being passed around, and there is just enough light to make out some of the celebrity signatures on the hundreds of dark oak barrels that line the walls.
Photographs of familiar faces abound, among them a young Tony Blair, all jug ears and toothy grin, and, of course, Banderas with Melanie Griffith, whom Malaga appears to have adopted as an honorary citizen.
The couple visit, religiously you might say, every Easter, always reserving the same corner suite at Hotel Larios, on the pedestrianised Calle Marqués de Larios.
When they’re not waving from their balcony to the crowds below during Holy Week processions, they’re taking part in the events themselves. How to distinguish Griffith amid the holy sea of women in black lace mantillas? “Easy. She’s the only really tall and skinny one,” we are reliably informed.
Malaga is known as the gateway to the Costa del Sol, and for decades it has been treated as so: a place for hurried landings and departures, the pit stop that must be made before rushing up or down the coast to Marbella, Puerto Banus, Torremolinos or Fuengirola.
But if it’s an authentic Andalusian experience you’re after, if you’d rather not be greeted in restaurants by waiters who assume you’ve no interest in speaking Spanish and who thrust into your hands English menus featuring photographs of fry-ups, best stay put to discover the under-rated treasures of this vibrant, unassuming city.
The lopsided, unfinished cathedral, with its single tower and mishmash of Gothic, renaissance, baroque and neoclassical styles, looks out over Malaga like an architectural amputee. Known affectionately as La Manquita (the One-armed Woman), this is the city’s landmark. The money allocated to build the second tower was given away by a bishop in 1780 to help fund the battle against the British in the American War of Independence. As with several cathedrals in Andalusia – a thriving hub of culture and learning under Arab rule in the Middle Ages – La Manquita was plonked, on the orders of Ferdinand and Isabella, on the site of a mosque.
The Alcazaba Muslim fortress, dating from 1057, looks down over the city from its perch above the ruins of a Roman theatre. The ramparts of Gibralfaro Castle, begun in the late eighth century, lie slightly higher on the crest. A walkway leads around the ramparts, and the views are spectacular.
Back to Picasso. There is just enough time for a caña (small beer on tap) before visiting the Picasso museum, housed in a 16th-century Andalusian palace with a sleek modern extension. Opened in 2003, it may not be as impressive as its counterparts in Paris or Barcelona, but it does house some interesting works, not least the piercing Portrait of Paulo with a White Cap, and Mother and Child, a touching interpretation of Olga Kokhlova, Picasso’s first wife, with Paulo as a baby. The museum’s 155 pieces were donated by Christine and Bernard Ruiz-Picasso, the artist’s daughter-in-law and grandson.
On Saturday night and into Sunday morning, the city centre’s old quarter is heaving with locals spilling out of bars and cafes. News of the smoking ban doesn’t seem to have hit these narrow streets. Many of the smaller bars prove to be smoke-wreathed culinary treasure troves, with counters weighed down by jamón, anchovies and olives, not forgetting the local speciality of fino, dry sherry. Spanish nightlife extends until at least 4am. No wonder the afternoon siesta lives on.
Sunday lunch is at El Pedregal, a coastal village about half an hour’s walk along the seafront, east of the city centre, in the Pedregalejo district. The beach is lined with restaurant terraces crammed with chattering Málagueños, who spend the afternoon devouring platters of local seafood washed down with chilled rosé or white wine.
At Maricuchi’s our waiter loudly relays an order for fresh sardines to a cook on the beach, who registers each shout with a wave while busily tending to a wood fire and turning and checking dozens of the shiny fish on a grill above. Soon a plate piled high with succulent, sweetly charred sardines is placed in front of us, along with a similar quantity of tender deep-fried calamares, spicy patatas bravas and a simple but copious salad of crisp lettuce, beef tomatoes and sweet onions drizzled in fruity olive oil. Paired with a cheap but very cheerful local white wine, the meal is a testament to simplicity and to the Spanish way of interfering as little as possible with fine, fresh ingredients.
Málaguños might well be mystified at foreigners who jump into the sea in late winter and early spring, but with average highs hitting almost 19 degrees in March and 21 in April, the temptation can be strong. The beauty of Malaga’s location means you can spend an hour at the beach, then quickly revert to city mode. Rainfall remains low year round.
Mary Bolandwas a guest of Kempinski Hotel Bahia Estepona
Go there
Ryanair (www.ryanair.com) flies to Malaga from Dublin and Shannon. Aer Lingus (www.aerlingus.com)
flies from Dublin, Cork and Belfast.
Where to stay in style, and where to eat and go if you're in Malaga
Where to stay
Golfers looking for a comfortable base along the costa, or tourists seeking a big-hotel experience set apart from the many busy resorts, may find solace at the five-star Kempinski Hotel Bahía Estepona (Estepona, 00-34- 952-809500, www.kempinski- spain.com), which I was a guest of. Its undulating, Moorish-style terracotta edifice is hard to miss on the A7 highway, about 70km from Malaga and a few minutes’ drive from the pretty white village of Estepona.
Service can be a bit slow in the hotel’s four restaurants, but the food is good, and many of the vegetables are grown in the hotel’s organic garden.
The jewel in the hotel’s crown is its two-storey Imperial Suite – the Royal and Presidential suites combined – which stretches over 750sq m and even includes a room for a live-in nanny. It comes with a butler, a luxury car and transfers by helicopter – all for €25,000 per night.
For the more price-conscious, double rooms cost from €175, including buffet breakfast, in winter.
The Kempinski is surrounded by dozens of golf courses. The hotel has reduced-rate deals with most courses. Green fees, however, can still be steep: at Valderrama, for example, they start at €275.
The village of Estepona – all cobbled, narrow streets, white buildings and tree-shaded squares – is not far, but to get there on foot involves walking along the highway. It takes a little more than five minutes in a taxi.
Where to eat
Bar Restaurante Maricuchi, Paseo Marítimo el Pedregal 14, 00-34-952-290412, www.restaurantemaricuchi.com. Beachfront restaurant that cooks your fish on the beach. Simple food that interferes as little as possible with fine, fresh ingredients.
Bodega El Pimpi, Calle Granada 62, 00-34-952-228990. Charming but slightly touristy restaurant that used to be a flamenco bar.
Where to go
Museo Picasso Málaga. Palacio de Buenavista, Calle San Agustín 8, 00-34-952- 127600, www.museopicasso malaga.org. Display of work donated by the artist’s daughter-in-law and grandson.
Hotel Larios, Calle Marqués de Larios 2, 00-34-952-222200. Drop by around Easter to see if you can catch a glimpse of Antonio Banderas and Melanie Griffith.