After a morning preparing for today's funeral in the church office and lunch at home for a change, I drove up to Mijas, having found a signpost in that direction just up the hill from where I'm staying. It took me on some very steep, narrow and winding back roads, challenging enough to make me feel quite nervous, even though all were stable and well metaled. The route wound up through a series of urbanizacions, clinging to steep hillsides. It must be quite difficult if not impossible to access some of these roads if it rains, or if conditions ever become icy. Anyway, I stopped to park at the west end of the town and walked in through the barrio de Sta Ana, with its little church and fountain of seven spouts in its courtyard.
The place was just starting to wake up for the afternoon, as tourists finished lunch and began their walkabout. This place was probably first settled in the Bronze Age, and continuously inhabited since, but not on its present scale. Its present size and density of buildings in Andalusian style speaks of the huge expansion that has taken place since 1960. It looks traditional, but that's largely due to planners and architects keeping faith with their tradition, to good effect.
The Parish church, sits on a promontory opposite the small Plaza de Toros and the gardens beyond overlook Fuengirola, 450 metres down below.
The 16th century church is dedicated to the Immaculate Conception, although the Parish dedication to Our Lady of the Rocks/Crags dates from earlier I suspect. The tower is 14th century and started life as a refuge from invading Barbary pirates, before conversion to a belfry.
The south aisle of the church was being made ready for a nativity tableau, with dark painted scenery and staging already in place. It's difficult to imagine how this will look when dedicated, but I won't see it this side of Christmas. With my return proposed within the Octave of the Epiphany, I may be in a position to see it then. More photos of Mijas can be found here
After a brisk three quarters of an hour walk around the village, I drove to Alhaurin Golf village to join the funeral cortege which started from home. I was glad not to have to navigate there on my own. The cemetery chapel in Coín, is a great barn of a place built in 2001. Despite its mock traditional facade, it's not nearly as pleasing to the eye as the chapel in Alhaurin. This is how it looked after the service.
The dozen close family and friends were joined here by another fifty. The woman who died was known locally as a singer in clubs and bars. I imagine many of those who came to say goodbye were fans if not friends. The service went as planned and intended by the two sons. One surprise was the announcement by the younger son of his engagement to the young lady who'd just sung a song as a tribute to her deceased mother in law to be. It was dusk by the time the service finished, and once the coffin was loaded up for an journey to the crematorium unaccompanied by mourners, as is common custom here, the congregation gathered around and escorted the hearse out of the gates.
Although the road I took for the return journey was the top class one, I found it quite difficult to drive, as it's unlit outside of town. There are not nearly as many reflective surfaces to warn of changes as I'm used to in Britain. The hills are steep and the curves sharp, so a great deal of extra concentration is needed to avoid raising the pulse level. I cooked chicken with fuet spicy sausage, peppers and broccoli for supper, a welcome consolation after some challenging hours behind the steering wheel.
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