Alcazaba

As the weather had taken a turn for the better, providing a blue sky mild sunny day, I took the train into Malaga at the end of the morning for some more sightseeing. I made my way through the old town to visit the Roman amphitheatre and the Alcazaba Palace, both of which I missed out on in my visit last November. 

There's a stylish new interpretation centre at one end giving easy access to the site for people on wheels, both at the lower and upper viewing levels. Impressive, also free entry!

The Alcazaba Palace dates from the time of the Moors, and is built into the hillside adjacent to the old town centre, with the Gibralfaro fortress on top of the hill above it.

Whilst it's not as large or majestic as the Alhambra Palace in Granada, it has many of the same environmental features - views out over the city, simple but elegant gateways, courtyard gardens, and running water at every level, pleasing the ear as well as the eye.

It's a place of tranquility and beauty, with a variety of beautiful ornate archways, tiled friezes and ceilings 

Best of all, as a pensioner, I paid just 60 centesimos for admission!

It's the kind of place worth re-visiting for a couple of relaxing hours with a picnic, as it contrasts so happily with the noise and bustle of the streets, crowded with people eating lunch outdoors even in mid winter.

On the way to Alcazaba I discovered a small plaza in which there was a traditional Adalusian courtyard building resembling an urban convent, but advertising itself as dedicated to the work of the Order of Hospitallers of St John of God.

In modern jargon it's a church social services centre, offering family care, crisis counselling, showers and clean clothes distribution. According to the banner on the building facade, recently a big group of martyrs belonging to the Order were beatified in Tarragona Cathedral in Catalunya.

I looked up St John of God and the Order when I got back to Fuengirola, and discovered a fragment of Christian history of which I was previously unaware. John of God died in 1550. His story is remarkable. He was born in Portugal, abducted from home at the age of eight, then abandoned, and lived by his wits until he was taken in by a Spanish farmer. In his late teens he became a soldier, and remained so until he was converted while he was in Granada in his forties. His vocation was to care for the sick and the poor and he established hospices in which this ministry could be exercised. After his death the Order was formed by people inspired by his example and since then its activities have multiplied and spread all over the world. 

The group of martyrs seventy one members of the Hospitaller community were all murdered during the Spanish Civil War. There's a church nearby which is dedicated to their memory. At this stage in my discovery I don't even know which side in the conflict made them victims, Republican or Royalist. It hardly matters, because their community's priorities are unequivocally clear - caring for the poor and suffering. Whoever shoots the gun at, or strings up the noose on such as these is pretty sick in soul and spirit, however they seek to justify their action. There's no way back to healing and reconciliation however, unless their courageous faith in times of conflict is honoured by all.

On my way back to the RENFE station, I hunted for the indoor Mercado Atarazanas, which I discovered back in November, hoping to re-acquaint myself with the delicious empañadas sold on a bakery stall therein. I couldn't recall how I'd reached it. I could navigate back to the station without a street map, but had no idea how to locate the market in relation to the station. Just after I'd given up looking, I caught sight of the distinctive Moorish ironwork decorative design covering the market exterior, and got to the stall in time to buy the last empañada on display. Next time I'll remember how near the market is to the arroyo close to the station. There are photos of Alcazaba and some other places of interest here.