Following the Arroyo Real

I finally woke up following a spell of dreams and light sleep when the alarm sounded. Nothing memorable but slightly bewildering, because in each I was much younger than my present age. More than that I can't remember. I was driving to Calahonda by ten to nine, in good time to prepare for the Eucharist and greet people. There were just ten of us this morning. Churchwarden Jen wasn't there as she felt unwell John her husband was due to officiate later at Alharuin.

I got back to Los Boliches for the Eucharist at a quarter past eleven. We were thirty five of us altogether. After the service I met a lady from Bargoed in the Rhymney Valley back home, near Pengam, where I attended Grammar School. I chatted with the Finnish dad who comes with his wife and two children, and got him to teach me how to say 'The Body of Christ' in Finnish, so I can give the family Communion in their mother tongue. It's 'Kristkusen Roomis'.

It was quarter to two by the time I reached home and started cooking lunch, and getting on for four by the time I went out for my daily walk. I went up the hill behind the house and down a lane which goes down to the road that leads up to Mijas Pueblo. Nine years ago, this was a route I'd take if I was going up there. Now there's a new dual carriageway link road from the entrance of our urbanizacion to the Mijas Road and over the hill a new urbanizacion. On the roundabout at the road junction is a statue of someone in working clothes, of indeterminate gender I think.

The inscription on each side of the base reads 'A los sanitarios / A las Sanitarias'. Google translate could only offer a literal translation, but a web search revealed that the statue, dating from August last years honours all those health workers who clean and make safe places we inhabit, both public and private, in particular acknowledging their contribution during the pandemic. I like that.

On the far side of the roundabout run an arroyo, called the Arrroyo Real. It's been built up to serve as a storm drain to take rain water from the sierras above to the sea. It crosses under the main road and where it emerges there's a footpath that follows the watercourse for a kilometre, running past a strip of green parkland, under the N340 and then through a long broad culvert beneath the recinto ferial and railway line down to the sea. 

There were hundreds of people gathered at the top end of the recinto ferial socialising, family groups and individuals. It seems there was a bikers' rally going on, to judge by the number of leather jacketed bearded men and a considerable number and variety of motor bikes in beautiful condition with gleaming chrome and polished leather seats. Most of the area of the recinto ferial, which translates as fairground, was quiet. It's really a huge outdoor gathering place, where the weekly market happens, where camper vans may park legally, either overnight for for an idle season, where fun fairs, circuses and fiestas may happen. The streets running the length and breath of this multi-purpose zone are lined with club houses belonging to professional, sporting and social organisations, and interesting showcase for Fuengirola's range of community organisations.

I made my way down to the sea front, where strong wind makes its presence felt though it's 18C today. All this week sand has blown off the beach on to the paseo maritime, on times requiring a machine with an earth moving bucket on the front to reduce the volume of accumulated sand. Beach entrances have been cordoned off, maybe to deter people from going closer to breaking waves, maybe also because the accumulated sand would make access difficult for someone on wheels or unsteady on their feet. It won't deter those agile enough to climb over the low retaining wall, but it's a way of flagging up that things are not as normal as they usually are. 

This afternoon is the first time I've seen council workers out with brooms and shovels, accompanied by a truck. Not only is there sand to shift, but loads of vegetation torn from palm trees and grasses, littering the road and pavements. As it's a Sunday and the wind isn't as fierce as it was earlier in the week, more people are out taking their paseo and the public realm needs to be as clean and safe as possible, even if it is a losing battle until the wind dies down. In our urbanizacion the wind has torn down some branches and scores of unripe carob pods from the algorrobo tree half way down. It struck me the pods resemble the judia plana I wrote about yesterday. I don't know if there's any direct relationship between the tree and the bean plants, which grow on a vine. The pod device is a means for both to propagate their seeds.

This evening after supper and a chat with Clare, a couple of hours reading before bed. Not watching any telly is quite relaxing really, no matter what I miss.