I must have been tired to sleep eight and a half hours, and wake up in bright sunlight with the sun above the roof line of the terrace opposite the bedroom. By mid afternoon the temperature was 25C. All I did this morning was finish preparing for tomorrow, print out my sermon and cook lunch.
I walked down to Los Boliches after lunch and then went north east along the Paseo Maritime to Playa Carvahal. On my way I was passed one of the many tiendas selling clothes as well as beach supplies, and noticed a few gorras (gents' cloth caps) of interest. I need one big enough to tuck my ponytail into and stop my hair blowing into my face. There was one in cotton denim that was just the right size for me. I've hunted in many stores since I've been here and it's the first time I've come across one that wasn't too small. I can't believe that I've bought a shirt and a cap this week. I never shop for clothes on holiday, as my packed suitcase usually contains everything I need.
Carvahal at the far end of Fuengirola municipality has 1.2km of beach. The Sierra de Mijas peaks are 15-20km inland from here, but descend to a narrow coastal strip dedicated for the past forty years to high rise blocks of hotels and holiday apartments, on sites excavated from steep slopes behind the beach road. The original N340 highway runs 50m above the beach, the Cercania railway line 50m above that. The A7 autovia runs another 500m higher up. All of these in their day were massive civil engineering projects to improve access for the tourism industry.
The L1 free bus runs from here all the way to the Miramar shopping mall at the other end of the municipality, the longest route. I caught one on the return leg, and was impressed at how well used the service is. I got off at the stop opposite the Los Boliches market and walked up to Mercadona to get a few items I'd not been able to carry yesterday. My ankle hadn't been given me much trouble while I walked, but as soon as I stepped into the supermarket it hurt enough to make me limp, and I have no idea why. As I had a bag with several kilos of shopping in it, I crossed the road and sat on a bench waiting for the L3 bus to take me back up the hill. Fortunately I only had five minutes to wait, and was soon able to take off my shoes and walk around barefoot, which relieves the pain promptly.
While uploading and downloading photos after supper, I watched a cooking programme from a small town in Cordoba Province. The dialogue was difficult to follow, a bit fast for me. The news programme that followed was easier, and helped by on-screen headlines, thankfully.
Clare and I chatted for half an hour. She told me about the new Welsh opera she went to with Diana and Pete at the Millennium Centre last night. It was a story about a Welsh male voice choir, and as she said "Very culture specific, unlikely to travel well." The real life Dowlais Male Voice Choir performed on the stage in the foyer beforehand, and put in an appearance on-stage at the end of the opera, which featured an audience sing-along, in Welsh as well as English. Probably a reason why it wouldn't travel. I wonder if there'll be a video to circulate among ex-pat New World Welsh societies?
No comments:
Post a Comment