MALAGA, 24 July 2003 — Nearly everyone is dancing, joyously, copiously, good- naturedly. Music pumps out from every direction, from marquees and from street corner bars. Women, in particular, dance happily and un-selfconsciously in the street, most of them wearing flamenco dresses — all frills, flounces and polka dots — with a matching flower behind the ear. Boy, these people know how to let rip — but then this is the Feria de Malaga, billed as Europe’s biggest street party. It is also one of its oldest, having been instituted to celebrate the retaking of this part of Andalusia from the Moors in 1487. For nine days in August, Malaguenos spend the afternoons partying in the streets of the old town then.

We Brits fly in to Malaga in our millions every year, but we tend to head straight out again, for Torremolinos, Fuengirola and Marbella, or take the bypass around Malaga, for easterly resorts such as Nerja, or the road north to Granada. Which is jolly good news for those of us who venture into the warm-hearted, historic city itself. Feria or no, Malaguenos are rightly regarded as some of the friendliest people in Spain.

Europe’s oldest continually inhabited city is Cadiz, founded by the Phoenicians in 1100 BC, but those wily Phoenicians, with an eye for a good setting, founded ‘Malaka’ further along the Andalusian coast a few hundred years later in 800 BC. Nearly 3,000 years later, the availability of budget flights to Malaga tempted us to follow in the Phoenician explorers’ footsteps just for a weekend. Out of season you can hop on a plane after work on a Friday and be enjoying dinner at a beachside fish restaurant long before Spain has thought about going to bed.

We caught the cheap and fast electric train (cercanias de ferrocarril) from the airport: the last stop, Centro-Alameda, disgorged us in the happening centre of Malaga at the Alameda Principal, a long narrow square that links the old town (centro historico) with the main shopping area (just called the ‘centro’). The centro historico is a delightful mass of winding streets and interesting shops and is thronged each evening with Malaguenos enjoying their paseo (evening stroll). But it was not always like this: Malaga was a bit of a dive until four or five years ago. The Gibralfaro castle, for example, built in the fourteenth century on the site of the original Phoenician settlement and last used in anger during the civil war, used to be one of the city’s no-go areas — unless you wanted to buy illegal substances or get mugged. A few years and a lot of EU money later, it is restored to its former austere glory and one of Malaga’s main tourist draws.

Many old buildings received the same sensitive treatment — and the cleaner, safer town center has drawn Malaga’s young professionals back to characterful apartments in the center from the coastal suburbs. We took in stupendous views of this marvel of regeneration, and many kilometers of coast in both directions, from the Gibralfaro castle, then wandered down a bougainvillea-lined footpath to the eleventh-century moorish citadel, or Alcazaba. This is a much smaller, but no less perfectly formed version of Granada’s Alhambra — without the queues.

For a few euros admission, we had the flowery terraces, fountains, fruit trees and scented arbours almost to ourselves. You can also have a beach almost to yourself if you get your timing right. Malaga’s climate is delightful: hot summers and warm sunny beach-worthy weather for all but a few cold days in winter.

A short air-conditioned bus ride from the Alameda takes you to the former fishing villages of Pedregalejo and El Palo, now absorbed into suburbs. The former is prettier and less built up; the latter has better sand. Fishermen’s cottages line the sea fronts, and rocky breakwaters form numerous cozy bays.

Every evening in the summer, and weekends throughout the year, restaurants all along both promenades cater for Malaguenos’ other great love besides partying — fish. Outside each of the establishments a weatherbeaten man stands over a wood fire, grilling espetos (skewers) of fresh sardines. To these we added coquinas (tiny clams) gambas (prawns), tiny red mullet served whole and the Malaguenos’ obsession — boquerones, white anchovies boned, opened out and fried in flour.

Back in town the next day we took in Malaga’s impressive, ornate but rather unlovely cathedral and a roman amphitheatre just below the citadel. But the chief pleasure lies in wandering the narrow streets and intriguing alleyways. To avoid getting completely lost, a good ploy is to follow the winding Calle Granada. This useful street, home to much of the city’s nightlife, leads from Plaza de la Constitucion at one end of the old town round several corners and small squares to Plaza de la Merced and the birthplace of Malaga’s most famous son, Pablo Picasso. Frustratingly, Picasso is everywhere and nowhere in his native town: the main coast road is Paseo Pablo Picasso, there are cafes, restaurants and a painting school named after him, and across the river the Picasso gardens.

But where is the art? A dismal gallery in the municipal Aduana building contains a couple of very unspecial drawings, and there is no mention of him at the beautiful new gallery of modern art just outside the center. We pinned our hopes on the house where he was born, on the northern side of Plaza de la Merced. It contains photographs and artifacts aplenty, and two lovely drawings, touching in their genius and simplicity, but that’s it. Picasso’s daughter-in-law, Christine Ruiz Picasso, let the city buy 182 major works at a bargain price several years ago, and a beautiful sixteenth-century building, the Palacio Buenavista, is being restored to become the collection’s permanent home but, in the meantime, the paintings remain maddeningly out of view. Picasso junkies must content themselves with the square outside his home (where, guidebooks fondly tell you, the youngster may have made his first drawings, in the sand) and the art school where his father taught.

NOTE: The Feria de Malaga will take place from August 15-24, 2003.

Factfile:

— Hotels: For cheap and central, try the atmospheric Hostal Avenida (00 34 95 221 7729) right on the Alameda Principal for Euros 35 for a double with shower. The two-star Hotel Carlos V (95 221 5120) near the cathedral is Euros 59 for a double. The cheap and friendly Hostal Capri (95 222 3003), Euros 60, is a short bus ride from the Alameda, but close to the beach. The three-star Hotel Las Vegas (95 221 7712) brash and modern, but with sea views and pool for Euros 92 a double.

— Public Transport: Malaga’s buses are cheap, air-conditioned and reliable — even locals speak well of them — and most leave from the Alameda Principal. No 11 will take you east along the coast past several beaches and on to Pedregalejo and El Palo, for just 80 cents (centimos).

— Eating: By the beach, try El Lirio at the western end of Pedregalejo’s promenade. In town, the Cafe Gambrinus, on Calle Granada is unpretentious and good for local specialities.

— Tip: Buy your train ticket from the machine on the platform at the airport. You’ll pay almost double if you buy it on the train, so have a few euro coins handy.