Short ride along the coast to Malaga

  Once again with rain predicted, I paid attention to when exactly what percentage chance.  Ducking out of fuengirola at 8:50, I had sunshine and a humane road to ride on.  At one point I dodged the highway by weaving around on a bike path for several kilometers.  The stop and ask approach proved much better than my gps.  Just keep the Mediterranean on my right and stay clear of the inland mountains. I pedaled thirty-two K, twenty miles, to Malaga.  The challenge began when I realized my reserved hostel was way out of town and I wanted to be central to everything.  My first two hostel choices were booked, my third try found me the last bed.  At first, I thought I would just find the place without reserving it but my better judgement grabbed by my throat and made me book the reservation then and there.  Good move as it turned out. Had I waited ten minutes, I would been out on the street again. The Lights Out hostel was jumping with youth and a few older youth like me.  It took no time to make friends with a several ‘Yoot’ comprising Germans, Northern Irish and Argentinian, two guys, six woman. One of which lived in Vietnam and gave me the inside scoop on the place,; perhaps my next adventure.  At 8:00 we all rendezvous-ed and headed out for beer and tapas.  A fun time was had by all.  Two nights alone in a hotel left me craving for some social interaction.  I folded my deck at 12:00 while the others rallied into the wee hours.  Beggars cannot be choosy, so I had a top bunk on a creaky bed.  My room was alive with five girls from Wisconsin, all of whom were well into a night of debauchery. Right off one wanted a hug so in my fatherly role, I obliged the girl. Tomorrow, the cathedral will get a look-see as well as the Picasso Museum. Picasso grew up in Malaga.  Perhaps I will stay a third night if I need to see more of the town.