November 6, 2026

Malaga, Spain is the birthplace of Pablo Picasso, and I have to believe it is one of the reasons why this vibrant city has extraordinary street art.

If you wonder how Chongae and I get around in cities around the world we do it the old fashion way. We walk and take buses.

Now I must confess I do not walk as well as I used to and the steep hills in Italy run havoc on my knees. But when I complain Chongae reminds me (as she always does) very clearly and succinctly: “Thank God you can still walk.” She has a point.

Well, Malaga is a great city to walk in.

In certain neighbourhoods, entire buildings have become enormous canvases. Colourful faces, imaginative characters, abstract designs and spectacular murals transform ordinary streets into an outdoor art exhibition.

Walking through Málaga is like visiting an art gallery without walls – and the best part is that admission is free!

One moment you are walking past traditional Spanish balconies and beautiful old buildings; the next, you are standing in front of a gigantic modern painting covering an entire wall.

My favorite was this photo that I captured from the bus window. A typical Spanish gaucho so eloquently drawn in a park sitting area,

This was not, however, my first visit to Malaga. That occurred over 50 years ago when as a college student I backpacked throughout Europe during the summer. In those days you could buy a plane ticket on Icelandic Airways and fly from New York to Luxembourg with a stopover in Reykjavík, the capital city of Iceland. The cost $99.00. Then you could purchase a 3-month student EuroPass to travel on all the trains throughout Europe. The cost $99.00. My plan was to travel as far south in Europe as possible, take a ferry over into Northern Africa and then spend the summer working my way back up through Europe. My southern European destination: Malaga, Spain.

In 1972 Tangiers you were confronted with shady street guides who would persistently try and misguide you through the confusing maze of alleyways in the Kasbah and then try and force you to pay them to find your way out of the walled enclave before dark. Much rougher than today’s Tangier. It was not necessarily dangerous everywhere, but it could be unpredictable, uncomfortable and rather edgy. Not somewhere you necessarily felt completely at ease after dark. I do not have any photos, but this is what the Kasbah would have looked like in 1972.

I did find one photo of when I returned from my summer adventures and was greeted by my mom. To be fair, almost everyone had long hair in those days. Maybe you recognize this conservative television personality.

By the way, that’s my college buddy, Bill O’Reilly.

Who would have guessed?

Thanks for traveling with us.