Málaga’s Loudest Guiris: The Green Parrots and Their Secrets

Today I’d like to introduce you to Málaga’s loudest guiris (= foreigners). And no, I’m not referring to a group of Northern Europeans stumbling home from a night at the club. I’m talking about the parakeets, Málaga’s beautiful green parrots, the Monk parakeet and the Rose-ringed parakeet that have made this city their home.

You’ve probably stopped to watch them at least once. Tourists do all the time, phones lifted, fascinated by the bright green feathers against the Mediterranean sky. They’re pretty, exotic, photogenic, small living symbols of the city’s charm. But here’s the plot twist: they’re guiris too. They’re not from here. The Monk parakeets come from South America; the Rose-ringed parakeets from Africa and Asia. And yet, they have fully colonized southern Spain.

What fascinates me is that the same bird can hold two completely different realities at once. Where a visitor sees a cheerful, tropical curiosity, a local often sees an invasive species. Monk parakeets build massive communal nests on palm trees and even electric towers, structures so large and heavy that authorities occasionally have to remove them for safety reasons. Where tourists hear playful sounds, residents hear constant, high-pitched calls. They are loud, social, bold, perpetually caffeintaed. They take what they need even if it disrupts the local ecosystem.

And still, there’s something admirable about them. Parakeets understand community in a way we’ve forgotten. They build shared structures without disappearing into them: nests like small apartment blocks, separate chambers, multiple entrances. Autonomy and protection. When one section weakens, the others reinforce it. The whole grows stronger because everyone contributes. In a world that glorifies doing everything alone, parrot logic feels almost rebellious: I’ve got you. Let’s reinforce each other’s walls.

Their collective intelligence extends beyond architecture. In a flock, not everyone eats at once: some forage while others stay alert, and if one bird senses danger, the whole group responds. Safety becomes distributed rather than carried by a single hypervigilant individual. Humans used to live like this too. Now we carry what was never meant to be carried alone: financial fear, relational uncertainty, creative risk, existential doubt. One nervous system holding the weight of an entire tribe.

In real community, the load shifts. Someone steadies you when you spiral, someone sees possibility when you can’t, someone reminds you who you are. Safety multiplies.

Even their screeches have meaning. What sounds like noise is often just a contact call: I’m here. Where are you? Stay close. We’re moving.

When they fly, they vocalize more, not less, because movement increases the need for connection. We’ve learned to do the opposite. When life shifts, we go quiet. When shame hits, we disappear. When we’re overwhelmed, we isolate. We don’t want to burden anyone and stop asking for help.

Instead, we schedule “catch-ups” to summarize our lives and trade updates like headlines. Researchers call these catch-up friendships: relationships that turn into recap sessions, where we feel informed about each other’s lives but no longer truly woven into them. The conversation becomes a compressed download. Connection starts to feel performed instead of lived. It’s like we’re doing Instagram offline.

Parakeets remind us of something simpler: life is constant movement and movement asks for more connection, not less. Change is easier when someone is flying beside you. Our experience isn’t meant to be reduced to a highlight reel or an executive summary. While the zeitgeist urges us to curate stories about life, parrot logic says: live it together and let the stories emerge on their own.

A gentle twist

Like the green parrots, you and I are guiris here. We arrive with foreign habits, foreign expectations, and sometimes foreign privilege. We can unintentionally disrupt the local ecosystem.

The parrots didn’t ask permission to flourish here. But we can choose how we flourish. We can build community that is inclusive and respectful, rooted in honoring the essence of this place. We can contribute instead of merely consume. We can learn the rhythms of the city we chose to call home instead of hovering at its edges.

The first step is simple: participate.

That’s what this newsletter hopes to do, offer a small window into the culture of this city, and a reminder that culture isn’t something we observe from the outside. It’s something we build, together, every day.

May we create shared walls without overpowering the tree that holds them.

Love from Málaga,
Val