After cleaning up and tidying the house, ready to welcome Geoff and Carol back tonight, we drove up into the Sierras National Park once again, to visit the hill town of Competa, high up at 1100m above sea level, with a view through the fertile valleys down to the coast at Torrox. As we set out from Nerja we saw a wheeled plough drawn by two heifers making its way at a stately two miles an hour down the main road past the petrol station, attracting attention, not from other road users, but from us visitors, amazed to glimpse this image of traditional local agriculture in the middle of an otherwise modern town.
The last time I was struck by the incongruous juxtaposition of the rural and urban was about ten years back in Geneva, when I saw queuing among the buses and posh cars crossing the Pont du Mont Blanc over the Rhone, a tractor towing a large high sided trailer as full as it could be with grapes being taken from vineyards on the south side of the lake to a winery at the west end of the Canton. No question of using the by-pass - straight through the town centre, as ever. Who could possibly complain when the genevois are so proud to drink their own wine that none is exported?
On the narrow winding road to Competa we encountered a tethered mule contendedly grazing daisy filled grass, a herd of goats being shepherded to new pastures, and a large handsome green chameleon crossing the road at such a measured pace that we could stop and take a photo before it reached the verge. I've never seen such a creature in the wild before, let alone in the middle of the road I was driving on.
Competa is a fine well managed town, spread along a steep south facing hillside. It's larger than Frigiliana, and still working at tidying public services out of view. A large new underground car park close to the centre is under construction, enabling visitors to get closer to places worth seeing. It's cooler climate attracts expatriate settlers less comfortable with the torrid summer heat of the coastal plain.
There's a small Anglican congregation here. Like Nerja, it was planted by outreach from Malaga two decades ago in days when the monthly journey (pre motorway) for a service took two and a half hours.It still takes an hour and a half from the city, but now retired clerics living nearer take services. It's less than an hour from Nerja, and Fr Geoff gets asked to conduct occasional offices up here occasionally.
The seventeenth century Parish Church is dedicated to our Lady's Assumption. Its exterior has had a visitor-friendly makeover recently that integrates it with the adjacent main square The church's external south wall is decorated with large tiled panels telling the history of the town over the past millennium. There's a south promenade area for post-liturgical socialising, plus public toilets. The square is accessed through an imposing open brick portal. Refurbishment is almost finished. A mason was busy laying out the shield of the municipality in coloured paving blocks in one corner of the square opposite the church entrance.
We found ourselves a small bar-restaurant with a moorish theme, and lunched on a local recipe soup and tostado. It was hot, and the sun was a lot brighter at this altitude than it is usually down on the coast. For once I wished I had some sun glasses. We set off at a leisurely pace and went down to the sea at Torrox, so that Clare could have a final paddle. Then we did some last minute shopping and cooked some espadon for a final mediterranean supper. What a fine time we've had.
More photos can be seen here.
No comments:
Post a Comment