Malagueta meeting

A pleasant night's sleep, as the house cooled very little during the hours of darkness, remaining at 18C. I put another load of washing through the machine at breakfast time, and left it hanging on the line while I went up to Málaga on the train to meet Fr Louis St George's Chaplain for lunch at Cafe Flor in the Plaza de Toro. It took me twenty five minutes brisk walking from the Alameda station to reach there on time, and I was pleased that my ankle didn't give any trouble to slow me down. It noticed work has now just started on erecting Semana Santa spectator seating opposite the entrance of Calle Larios.

We chatted about the city which he loves as much as I do. It's attracting a new generation of in-comers as a developing digital technology enterprise hub, and for its cultural creativity and lifestyle. He's been chaplain here for two and a half years, since the Costa Azahar chaplaincy closed early in the pandemic. In this job as in the previous one, he subsists on half time pay, as it's all that can be afforded, but he sees it as a unique opportunity for mission, and is willing to take the risk. I admire him for this. While he relishes the big challenge of working in a situation equally hard hit by covid, he's exploring possibilities without rushing to formulate grand strategy. I think it's important in the face of a diminishing established congregation and demographic change which could make the difference between life and death for this historic anglophone  pastorate. 

I was quite surprised to learn that almost all the Nigerian church members have left since they were such a strong group a decade ago. Some attend a local Catholic church instead closer to where they live, but more have migrated in search of work to Finland, following others settled there over the years. It was great that Fr. Louis could put them in touch with Fr. Tuomas, the chaplain in Helsinki. I believe there's an African priest assisting in the chaplaincy there.

After nearly two hours talking we parted company. I returned to the Alameda station through the old town, and the Plaza de la Constitucion. There was a big stage up for the Carnaval fiesta when I passed through here last time. This has now been replaced by a smaller stage and a complete outside broadcast studio enclosed in a glass plated cube. It's all to do with the nine day 26th Festival de Málaga, on at the moment, a film festival that's also a ritzy fashion showcase.

I wasn't curious about this, and took the next train back to Los Boliches. The train had been quite full on the way up and even more crowded on the way back. Tourism traffic is building up as the weather gets warmer, but it's mostly older people at the moment. It's hard to imagine how crowded it will be when family holidaymakers start arriving in big numbers, and others come as Semana Santa pilgrims.

I went straight back to the house as I was feeling hungry. I'd not eaten at Cafe Flor as diary free options vegetarian options are few and far between apart from uninteresting salad. I knew there was a cooked meal from Saturday waiting for me in the fridge, so I just had a couple of non-alcoholic beers and some crisps, with a vegan empanada from a posh panaderia in the old town to keep me going en route.

Then Clare and I chatted while she was walking in Bute Park. She stopped for a tea at 'The Summer House' and bumped into our friend Mark, so the two of us exchanged surprise greetings over What'sApp video. The evening slipped by again, uploading new photos and downloading old ones for archiving, until it was time for bed.