I was greeted by Ian before this morning's Eucharist at Almuñecár with a guitar to try out, which I'll be hiring from a friend of his for the duration of my stay. It's a lovely classical instrument in good condition, with what I think is a walnut body and pine soundboard. Supplied with new strings, it sounds great, and seventy five euros for ten weeks is a price I'm happy to pay.
I didn't play much while I was home, as the change in climate gave me more stiffness and joint pain, always a deterrent to picking up and playing. Since I've been back in a warmer drier climate, my finger movement is less stiff. Getting my fingers fit again will take a while, and no doubt I will still get awful cramp in my hands when I've reached the limit of what I can tackle in any session - it's a bit like running used to be. I should still be running really, rather than just walking quickly. Not infirm but definitely lazy!
There were fewer people in Almuñecár this week but more in Nerja, with several visitors. Our start there was delayed five minutes, as another batch of first Communion children with families poured slowly out of San Miguel Church. Altogether there are six first comunion Sundays, two in April and four in May. So, when we Anglicans arrive there's a bustling festive atmosphere all around us. The long established residents cope with this more than they enjoy. I like to think it's something that visitors find a positive experience of lively local church in this barrio.
Some are cynical about the fact that few of the families attending will ever be more than occasional church attenders as a result of this rite of passage, but the children are getting basic catechesis in church, and maybe more in school if their is a church school. They're not uncomfortable and lost as they would with no instruction. It make sit easier for them to latch on to elements of community religious ceremonies and festivities, if that has any group appeal for them.
When we were having lunch after the church AGM two weeks ago, a lady and I were chatting about cake, lamenting the shortage of decent British fruit cake in shops here. To my amazement, this week she presented me with a loaf sized fruit cake she'd baked. This will go down very nicely with a cup of coffee for merienda. Such kindness!
After the service, an hours chat in the bar Cuñeo opposite the church. It was closed last time I was here, but has now re-opened with a German proprietor. The TV on the wall showed the Spanish Grand Prix Motor race in Barelona, and the commentary was in German, reflecting the requirements of more regular clientele. The staff are keen to speak English, I try to use Spanish. Today I spoke a little German as well. All part of the social pleasure of the place.
When I was shopping yesterday, I bought a box of what I thought were apricots. The word Níspero was on the lable. I thought it was a brand name. When I opened and examined them later, the fruit was not what I was expecting and they tasted different, hardly sweet at all, and with several stones at the core instead of a single one, so I resorted to the dictionary to discover they were medlar. Clare had heard of them from Shakespeare texts, but never tasted.
I experimented with them, cooking myself a lunch of marinaded tuna poached with medlars, accompanied by broccoli and spuds, and enjoyed the result. Than a happy afternoon spent getting to know the new guitar. So much so, that I forgot to go out for my evening paseo and I didn't get around to trying out the cake, either.
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