Back again in the Old Town

When we woke up at sunrise, we were surprised to see a cumulus cloud bank along the Moroccan coast, not just the usual sea mist. Will this bring proper rain, or more dust and sand from North Africa? Depends on the prevailing wind I suppose.

I picked up Patricia at a quarter to eleven and we drove to the coffee morning at Sabinillas. Clare decided not to come with us. With people starting to return from holidays, there were eight of us altogether. After the session Patricia took me to an estanco where I could buy postage stamps, as Clare bought postcards to send yesterday. It was also a newsagent's and tobacconist's shop selling English newspapers, and I had to queue for five minutes to get into the shop before being served.

After returning, I accompanied Clare to the urbanizacion swimming pool for her daily dip, and then we prepared lunch together. The cloud was high and it was humid, and a siesta after eating essential. Later we cauight the bus to the town centre and walked the short distance from there into the Casco Viejo, as the old town on the hill is called, with the remains of its Saracen fortress and Roman octagonal tower, and the parish church of La Virgen de los Remedios. There was a big festive procession through the streets here on 15th August, but sadly I didn't know anything about what was happening.

The church dates from the 18th century and started life as a Franciscan tertiary order convent. Like San Pedro's church in San Pedro itself, the design of the building reflects Latin American colonial influence in its style. Unusually, the facade of its tall tower is painted yellow with red lines ostensibly marking where the corner stone building blocks are located. Because of its Franciscan history, buildings surrounding the church are still in use by the parish and its Marian cofradia. There's a statue outside in honour of a 20th century parish priest who served there for fifty years. The streets in the surrounding area are very much in the Andalusian pueblo blanco tradtiion, well looked after and full of flowers. At six, however, the streets were still empty and none of the hostelries were open. We had walk down to the sea front to get a drink and find a toilet, in an amusing styled retro '50's bar/cafe called 'Pit Stop'

We walked back from there to the port, and just missed a bus back to Beverly Hills. Rather than wait forty minutes for the next one, we walked back in twenty five, and were very tired because of the heat and humidity. After supper, I slumped in front of the telly for a while before turning in for the night.