Food memory

A late and lazy start this morning, with just one service in Alcossebre at noon. I drove there using the new N340 by-pass road, which opened last year, and has taken the heavy long distance traffic away from the existing arterial road, what may have been a by-pass road in its day, but since then, has acquired along most of its length through town, a succession of supermarkets warehouses and business premises. 

Nowadays this road has, for the most part just light local traffic, and is far less dangerous to use than it was last time I was here. Indeed, I notice a difference at night, as there's no longer the sound of heavy lorries slowing down to respect urban speed limits, half a kilometre away from the house. The new by-pass runs three kilometres inland across the coastal plain.

There were two dozen at the Eucharist and unusually, a third were non-communicants. Summer months are the quietest for church attendance here too, despite the influx of visitors. Afterwards we gathered in the 'El Camino' church shop just a couple of doors up from the church, a dozen of us, for drinks and a chat, and some of Doreen's special cheesy nibbles. Then I drove back for lunch via Lidl's, as I needed bottled water, fruit and some fish (merluza) for lunch.

I was a bit haphazard in timing the cooking, and started the rice too early, so it was ready before the veg and the fish. By this time I was hungry, and served the redondo rice - like an Italian risotto rice, to eat just with lemon squeezed over it. Not only was it delicious, but eating this awakened a lovely memory from nearly fifty years ago.

Clare and I spent the summers of '67 and '68 backpacking in Greece. Much of our time on both occasions was spent in Crete, where we were befriended by an olive farmer, and taken around to be shown village life in the mountains, and to attend festas attached to betrothals and baptisms. The first occasion, we were in a hill village, and served mezes to start with, then a large plate of rice with lemon juice squeezed over it. We were conscious of being welcomed by people who were far from prosperous, and blissfully unaware of local custom. (I should add, there were no guidebooks at that time. They had yet to be written.) 

We were hungry and ate the rice heartily, thinking that was all they could afford to put in front of us. Then the roasted lamb appeared, and piece by piece, the whole animal was consumed by guests and villagers. We ended that night so full of food, and no amount of wine music and dancing could help us digest, and we lay awake groaning, regretting our enthusiasm. We still laugh about it today.

  

Pastoralia in Alcossebre and la Sierra d'Irta

This morning, I took another look at the non-functional Epson printer and found this time that it was recognising the legitimacy of all its ink cartridges, and was no longer complaining of a paper jam. It's a real puzzle, which I can only attribute to several months of not being used. Just having a current running into on stand by could make a difference to the sensors, but then it could also be a matter of changed humidity levels. I don't believe in helpful gnomes or fairies. 

I drove to Alcossebre to visit the church shop and drop in centre 'El Camino'. When I was last there, the new premises was being refurbished by a crew of volunteers, and it opened just after I left, so I was keen to see it in action. There was tea or coffee and excellent home made cake on offer, and half a dozen people sitting and chatting. While I was there, another half a dozen came and went. The shop is on the street quite close to the Capilla San Cristobal where we hold Sunday services, after the local Catholic community have finished. It couldn't be better placed, and it's a credit to the hard work of those who established it and keep it running.

On the way back, I drove into Peñiscola, and met up with with churchwarden Ron Legg close to the harbour entrance. He then led the way by car along the beautiful coast road south into the Parque Natural de la Sierra d'Irta to the urbanizacion where he and his wife Jenny live. There's a wooded barranco running down the centre of the housing estate. Forty different kinds of birds have been identified as visiting this area. A family of eagles perches atop the electric pylons, and every now and then a hoopoe comes to drink out of the communal swimming pool. My sort of place!

Jenny is coping with a painful wait for a knee and a hip replacement, and is confined to bed on painkillers for much of the time. Hopefully it won't be too much longer before she gets a date. It was good to see them both again, and pray with them.

Then back for supper, and after struggling for ages to upload photos without the link crashing out, I went for a twilight walk around the perimeter of the urbanizacion to get some exercise and clear my head and summon patience before continuing. 

Ermita de VInaros re-visited

This morning, Michael drove me down to Alcocebre this morning to join a group of people rehearsing for next Friday's service of Nine Lessons and Carols. Michael and I have been assigned the task of singing a solo verse of 'We three Kings of Orient are.', a first for me this one. A few doors away from the parish church of St Cristobal, where Anglican services in Alcocebre are held, a former surf and internet shop is being renovated prior to occupation by 'El Camino', the chaplaincy's drop in centre and shop in this part of the world. It has three times as much space as the existing shop, a more versatile arrangement than the current place. It's a credit to the worshipping community here to have assessed the need and seized the opportunity to undertake this development. I'm sorry I won't be here to celebrate the opening of the new premises early in the New Year.

After weekend shopping this afternoon, I drove to the Ermita de Vinaros to the west inland from town. My last visit here was in the summer two years ago for the Chaplaincy united Eucharist. I also cycled there from the chaplaincy house, a round trip of twenty kilometres, and when Eddie and Ann and Clare came over to join me for a holiday, we had lunch there. Unfortunately, I've not had a bike to ride this time. 

Now the Ermita is only open in daylight hours, and there are few visitors to the bar, restaurant or church. There are few leaves on the plane trees that provide summer shade. If anything, the colours of the fields and orchards of the coastal plain are more vivid than in summer, due to the growth after autumn rains. It's been a cloudy day with a veil of lingering mist muting the colours somewhat, but making for an atmospheric landscape as the sun descended to the horizon.

Being there on my own, I had time to look around the entire domain, which I hadn't previously. There's a Via Crucis ascending to a hill with ten metres tall cross on top of it. Beyond this is a higher mound with a ruinous platform on it. It looks as if the Via Crucis once ended up there, as reinforced concrete remains of the base of a previous cross are still at the platform centre. The reason for the sorry state of the mound is evident from a walk around the perimeter. Excavation has revealed ancient building walls and foundations of an earlier settlement on this site. The platform for the original cross would have been constructed in the early twentieth century, and there may have been less awareness of or interest at that time in what was out of sight under the ground. 

I took photographs, and lingered in the fast cooling air to watch the setting sun throw shafts of golden light through the pine woods that cloak the hillside away from the dwellings facing the sea plain. It was a moment to savour. Photographs are here.
      

Francophone visitors

Michael collected me and took me to his garage mechanic yesterday morning, to arrange a replacement wing mirror. We left the car, and he dropped me off at 'El Portico' the church centre close to the port, where I spent the morning chatting with people. He returned later unexpectedly to lock up, as nobody the had the necessary key. So I got a lift home as well, instead of a walk. 

As I was awaiting Michael to return to the garage for the second time in the day, two ladies of a certain age rang the doorbell, and asked if if spoke French. Well many French holidaymakers come to Vinaros, and there are resident expats as well, so this wasn't all that unusual. They were Jehovah's Witnesses. To my surprise, I conversed with them fluently in French for about half an hour before Michael arrived. One thing about being chaplain in Geneva for eight years was that I acquired the necessary vocabulary for theological discourse! And, it was nice to chat while I was waiting. We returned to the garage at the to find that there were going to be difficulties sourcing a spare mirror, so we should return manana a la manana. 

Before supper, I walked a little way along the coast path as the sun was setting in a cloudy sky, making spectacular show. It's very quiet now. Most of the holiday homes are shut up until New Year/Three Kings, if not until spring. The only bars and restaurants open are those serving local clientele.

This morning, another trip to the garage, again fruitless. It will take until Monday if not longer to obtain a new part, as there's no local Ford dealer in town. It's legal to drive without a right side mirror here, so I was able to take myself to Alcocebre to visit 'El Camino' the church drop in centre cum charity shop, to chat with people and get a briefing from Moira on Sunday's Act of Remembrance before the Eucharist. I learned that plans are afoot to re-locate to larger premises nearer San Cristobel church, which the Anglican congregation uses. This will provide space for small meetings, and storage space to support the cafe and charity shop side of things. Being without an incumbent chaplain is no bar to initiative to grow the church, and that's highly commendable.