To get the best from the cultural melting pot that is Málaga, take a two-wheeled tour.
Knees freshly scabbed and moped bearing the scars of an unwon tussle with a sharp corner coated with black ice, I hobbled into Spanish. With one look at the clock, then my torn jeans, the teacher made the blood course upwards to my cheeks by demanding I recount every last little detail of my wintry mishap.
So you can understand my initial reluctance at willingly participating in any activity involving two wheels and Spain.
“You’re a bit tall,” was the welcome. “Can you pedal with your knees?”
It´s not just sparkling wit for which Malaga Bike Tours is renowned. Kay, Bill, Ingrid and Anastasia (who multitasks as office angel and cartographer, as you´ll see from her map on this page) have raced up the ratings on one of the internet´s best known trip planning websites and now enjoy top spot. Impressive enough from a company established less than two years ago; nothing short of a miracle when you consider La Alcazaba, the Roman fort and amphitheatre complex, has spent close to a millennia working its way up to second place.
Saddled up in an altogether more comfortable position than anticipated, I wobbled out of the bike store and into Calle Victoria with a trepidation customarily reserved for BASE jumping.
I needn´t have worried. The bikes, all six-speed Shimano and padding like marshmallow in all the important areas, turned on a sixpence and ran on rails. If that´s how it felt to me, you have nothing to worry about.
Julia, one of my fellow cyclists, admitted a 40-year hiatus since her last bike ride. Murmurs of agreement rang round our motley crew as we descended on Plaza del Merced for our first cultural lowdown from Bill.
Bill, dusky as a southern European with a birthplace in southern England, regaled us with tales of Picasso´s baptism in the church across the way. Throughout the trip straggler-friendly Ingrid stayed at the back of the pack to make sure no souls were lost by the sea. Ingrid is stunning, in keeping with the rest of the womenfolk of Venezuela, yet her tan wasn´t half as rich as Bill´s.
This was the start of an eight-kilometre romp that would be as magical as it was intellectually enriching. There´s something very Italian Job about cycling down anorexic alleyways while motorists can only look on enviously. And seeing Málaga´s myriad religious monuments and affectations from handlebar level somehow gave them even more gravitas. Not that it´s required for edifices so old and regal it feels they predate the Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Past churches of high renown, the tantalising scents of churros con chocolate y cafe at an endless range of restos and bistros, and into the retail nirvana of ··· and you can´t help but notice the evolution of this historic city.
Málaga, Andalucia´s second city, has provided the stage for a staggering mix of Phoenician, Roman, Arabian and Christian souls.
In the Seventies it was honoured as a ´City of Paradise´ by Nobel Peace Prize laureate Vicente Aleixandre. And it´s easy to understand why: wander Málaga and it quickly feels like a living museum, with 3,000 years of remarkable history at its core.
Even the wave of modern apartments costing a half-million Euros or more are built within the unharmed shells of ancient buildings.
It´s 125 years since Picasso was born here in Málaga. Yet another dead artist, Charlie Chaplin, was sharing the headlines and airwaves of the Moorish city on my visit.
And improvements to an already impressive metropolis abound. There´s a great amount of dinero sloshing about in the Malaga money system and the local authorities have set themselves the challenge of being declared European City of Culture for… 2016! Note to the London administration: that´s four years after our Olympic Games, but Málaga is nearly ready…
From the we go along the Paseo del Parque. It´s at this point I shiver with deja vu over the similarities between this never-ending boulevard connecting harbour and city with Las Ramblas in Barcelona. Magical both, yet the sun is certainly siding with the southern sister.
After a nose around the gardens, jam-packed with European flora and heady with the sounds of drum, viola and bells on sticks (it´s fiesta every day round here), we move on to la playa.
Literally, on to the beach. For anyone who´s tried manouevreing across soft ground on what is essentially a glorified butcher´s bike, you´ll understand why I freaked at the idea of gliding across golden sands.
But thankfully Malagueta beach offers up no reason for concern. Having almost lost the strand a few years ago through erosion, there´s a lovely stretch of compacted sand and the marine defences are being strengthened to stop it happening again.
A couple more kilometres and we´re enjoying the rewards of our endeavours with a complimentary vino dulce. Bill and Ingrid are a perfect partnership. Bill´s evocative, your Cockney everyman, who specialises in approximations. Ingrid is a stickler for detail and manifest are her subtle corrections to dates and pronunciations. Like Morecambe and Wise, but eminently prettier, the both.
As limbs tire and eyes glaze in the November heat (think perfect, not July-oppressive), there´s genuine relief in faces when we start peddling back to base. But first a spot of further explanation at the plaza de toros (58-metre circumference, rarely open for business), the two magnificent ··· of City Hall and the Banco de Espana, and a whistle-stop briefing at La Alcazaba – a respectful nod, perhaps to the pretender to the crown.
On the flight to Málaga my companion revealed how, despite having passed through the city a dozen times or more over recent years, she´d never taken time out to discover its riches. Many follow her lead.
Which is remarkable. For Málaga is the little city with big city style, and definitely deserves discovering. So take a ´brake´and get in gear with Malaga Bike Tours.
