I arrived at St George's this morning in time to greet some of the regulars and have a quick chat with Rev Doreen about the adult Confirmation group, before taking the car and heading off to Salinas. As ever Sunday morning, traffic cones restricted flow on the Paseo de Reding. As it was unclear what this would mean for my planned exit route, and to avoid the confusion I experienced this time last month, I turned down on to the coast road, and wound my way around the streets in order to take the Avenida de Andalucia route out to the autovia. It's not as direct and takes a little more time and distance to reach the A45 junction turn for Granada this way, but it's straightforward, with less room for surprise deviations.
The weather was overcast, and as I climbed up the valley that brings the rio Guadalmedina down to the sea, started to rain and continued until I reached Salinas. There were ten in the congregation, somewhat less than usual, with several choir members absent. We sang the ordinary of the Mass to good old Merbecke, with the Peruvian Gloria, and used the Taize version of 'Nada te turbe', which touched me greatly, reminding me of inspirational visits there over decades past, both from Britain and from Geneva. Must return there one of these days, it's fifty three years since our first visit. Even so, it makes me feel young in spirit, just thinking about it.
After a drink and a good chat in Manolo's bar afterwards, I drove back to Malaga, and found my way through the back streets past Plaza de la Merced the most direct way to La Magueta and St George's.
Having lingered a little, I was glad that I'd prepared a pot of stew for a late lunch, as I needed to be out of the house and on my way to the airport to meet my old friend Geoff for an hour, before he left for his flight back to East Midlands airport. He was here overnight, and then taking a service in St Andrews Los Boliches before presiding over the chaplaincy AGM. It was good to catch up with him face to face, and see him looking well, despite his challenging role as 'Voluntary Archdeacon', over the past four years, two of these in retirement.
On the way there, my bus card malfunctioned, not for the first time lately, so I had to pay cash. Later I visited the Malaga public transport website to find help in troubleshooting the problem, and had a rather embarrassing surprise. The malfunction was due to the card running out of money. I thought I had more than enough to cover my journeys, but evidently not. When I bought the card to use during my first visit here eighteen months ago the single fare rate for an hour's trip was €1.07. The website told me that it had gone up to €1.30 in January this year, probably increasing from some rate in between last year.
So in effect, I'd not been putting enough money on the card, and had run it down faster than I realised. What an idiot! Malaga public transport information services are excellent, but there's nothing on the rolling information panels, or on the bus stop printed schedules to indicate the essential far rate, and you have to dig for it on the website. I suppose a rate increase would be all over the local news, and so most regular users would know. In fact, while I was trying to get the card to work and fumbling for my wallet once the bus driver demanded a fare in cash, a kindly fellow traveller aware of my plight pressed €1.30 into my hand to pay. But as I had cash on me, I thanked him and pressed it back into his hand. Ah los Malaguenos!
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