We were outside work in the car park, three of us enjoying the fresh air and sunshine and Angry Man kicking the wall and smoking a cigarette. "Malaga" he said authoritatively "is a dump." This was a view I was to hear echoed from the minute I booked the flight to Malaga and decided to stop overnight before we travelled further into Spain, right up to getting the train from Malaga Airport. Even as a kindly English lady helped us work the ticket machine, our decision was under question.

The hotel itself is an imposing corner tower, a little more dilapidated on the outside than the website would have you believe, but with a reception area that wouldn't be out of place in the United Nations. The staff at the desk spoke no English on check-in and The Boyfriend wasn't ready to use his Spanish, so we settled for sign language and eventually got our keys. Weary and probably a little dirty, we attracted some stares from the suited and booted business guests and sheepishly headed straight for our room to change.

The bathroom had soft white matching towels, a black marble counter with a white basin set into it, and a huge mirror. The whole plate glass and marble thing was fantastic, but so was the selection of free gifts; shampoo, bath gel, body milk. Toothbrush, toothpaste, shoe shine kit, nail files, sewing kit, cotton buds, comb and more - the kind of selection that makes you wonder why you bothered to pack.

After soaking up the deliciously warm Spanish evening for a while, we changed and headed out for some more. The hotel is right next to shopping streets and popular restaurants, but still quiet in the evening. After a gorgeous (black pig for The Boyfriend and vegetable Ratatouille for me) and very reasonably priced dinner, we wandered around. The advantage of Malaga is that it's not touristy enough to serve egg and chips and charge the earth. It's a functional city, with building work going on and people going about their uncontrived daily business.

After a comfortable night, we tried out the shower. This was good and powerful with no unexpected temperature variations, The Boyfriend emerging with a scrubbed look. I blasted my hair with the hairdryer for a minute, before deciding the Spanish heat would dry it just fine and pulled on a clean t-shirt before we headed for breakfast. The lifts took an eternity (they always did in this hotel) which gave us time to realise we had no idea where we were going. Luckily, the combination of the friendly maid and the sign in the lift gave it away that breakfast was on the second floor.

Checkout was easy and swift (once we'd been ignored for five minutes), and we were able to put our clinking suitcases (I'd taken the remaining Fanta, Coke, Diet Coke from the mini bar) into the luggage room. The luggage man was very pleasant and helpful, as was the English speaking man who'd suddenly appeared at the front desk. We could have done with him the previous evening to find out which floor our room was on, or when breakfast was, but here was here now with his paper map and good directions and that was enough. The location really came into play at this point. We discovered that the hotel was barely two streets from the Alcazabar, the Roman theatre, the Gibalfaro castle, the internet café and numerous small shops and we went on to have an amazing day of sightseeing (complete with the lunch I made at breakfast and the plastic bottles of water from the mini-bar) without leaving the immediate area.

It's worth bearing in mind that access may be an issue as the lifts are narrow and the entrance and reception desk are up stairs with no alternative route. You won't get a great deal of swimming done in the paddling size pool, but for a good night's sleep this is comfy, quiet and central. Like Malaga itself, this hotel is no disappointment.