Post utopian retail

I woke up earlier than usual, posted today's link to Morning Prayer and said the office in bed for a change before breakfast. Before starting work on a biblical reflection and the service for next week's prayer video, I finished another Patricia Cornwell crimmie I've been reading in recent days. For my taste her stories feel over detailed and long with phrases and images repeated without moving the story forward or  leaving any space for the imagination. Worse, however is the absence of punctuation in her sentence structure making it hard sometimes to catch the actual rhythm within her story-telling. With dozens of hit best sellers behind her, perhaps publishing editors are reluctant to call her to task for this.  I don't understand why. 

After a cooking a veggie pasta dish for lunch, I decided to walk to Las Lagunas and explore what El Corte Ingles has done with their vast building, now that several floors of it are closed, and the ground floor has become a 'designer outlet' discount clothes store. I hate that word 'outlet'. In my book it belongs to a large enclosed channel for water borne sewage off shore. I wonder if marketing and PR gurus ever thought of this, or do the live in such a rarified atmosphere that it didn't occur to them? Fuengirola now has several small tiendas de ropa which are also selling discount branded fashions left over from previous years. 

I walked the length and breadth of El Corte Ingles' mega-outlet without seeing anything I'd want to wear. It's all very smart and makes good use of a big and spacious environment. All I wanted to buy was a tee shirt or a vest however. It's not exactly a dystopian environment, but definitely a post utopian product of the pandemic when scaling business down in the absence of mass tourism was vital for survival.

When I went down to the basement to inspect the hypermarket however, I was pleased to discover that as well as food and drink, it also stocks the same range of digital devices as the store in Malaga, and a section with bed linen, bed clothes and underwear, so I was able to buy a pack two of vests, which made my visit worthwhile. This underground section is so huge and confusingly laid out, that returning to the exit was a bit like getting out of a maze for a first time visitor. 

While I was surfacing from the maze, Owain rang me with a query about a file sent to his conveyancing solicitors, and then told me that progress on putting forward the deposit money and closing the purchase is now immanent. After consultation with Clare, we agreed she would transfer the deposit money from our joint account when she visits the bank in person tomorrow. Neither of us are entirely comfortable with the idea of transferring a large sum of savings via internet banking, even if it's as secure as we trust it really is. Our age, I suppose.

I returned to the house, had tea and chatted with Clare before listening to 'The Archers'. Then I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer and Reflection audio, before turning in for the night.

Free ride

The torrential rain began to ease by the time I had breakfast and got myself ready for church this morning. I was grateful for a large black brolly in the hall stand when I left as it was still doing more than drizzle. The streets were awash as I walked down the hill, but I arrived without being soaked through. There were six of us for the Eucharist, and we prayed for Joan whose funeral as being attended by some regulars just as our service ended. Three others turned up as well, for coffee and a chat afterwards, defying the extreme weather. I bought a card with a photo of St Andrew's stained glass east window in the sanctuary to send to Marion with a message of condolence. I wrote this when I got back for lunch, and posted it on my way out afterwards.

I took the train into Malaga for the sheer pleasure of a free ride and went to El Corte Ingles to find out if the covid years had changed the vast department store in any significant way, bearing in mind that the one in Fuengirola's Las Lagunas has been downgraded to a 'designer outlet' discount store with hypermarket in the basement and all but the supermarket of the much smaller store in Los Boliches has been closed down. But no, the flagship city centre store is as glamorous and well stocked as it ever was. Moreover, all the surrounding road works are now complete, so it's easier to negotiate, even if the vast paved area is an empty desert of roads, pedestrian crossings little else.

Having completed my inspection of the area, I returned to Los Boliches. It was dark by the time I arrived. There was just time to get a few grocery items in Mercadona on my way up the hill and reach the house before supper, 'The Archers' and my evening WhatsApp call to Clare. Then an hour working on next week's biblical reflection, and already it's time for bed.

Shopping mission

Despite occasional rain and clouds, there's little wind now, daytime temperatures are around 18-20C, and there's the scent of orange blossom in the air, here and there. I had a lie-in and de-stressed after the craziness of yesterday's journey to Salinas. After lunch, I walked through the road tunnel to the Plaza de la Merced, aiming to see if I could trace on foot the proper route for getting out to the autovia following the rio Guadalmedina. 

I wandered briefly around the Mercado de La Merced. It's had a modern makeover, with half of it now being dedicated to specialist bars and restaurants and the other to traditional food stalls. I have yet to visit and find it bustling with activity, and I've been there at several different times. Once I'd walked in the right direction, I was able to join the dots in my mental road map. I then wandered up side streets, and discovered where some of the modern university buildings are. 

I called in a Chinese store near the much busier Mercado Atarazana to buy some replacement light bulbs, then crossed the river to reach El Corte Ingles, to see if could get a motion activated light to install above the door outside the apartment. It's terribly dark there, as the landing light has a time switch. The switches are hard to see in the dark because of their positioning, and the tell-tale light in one of them by the stairwell doesn't work. It's irritating and just a little risky, so I decided the best thing to do was find and install something suitable. Better to light a candle than curse the darkness, as the saying goes. First, I had to work out the right thing to ask for - una luz con interruptor de detección de movimiento would do the job, in the absence of a slang term or brand name to quote. Before I had a chance to ask someone, I found the shelf in a corner of the hardware basement, and instantly identified what I needed. And reasonably priced too.

From there, I went up to the computer department and bought a Devolo wi-fi network booster plug for the apartment. I meant to do this on my last visit but didn't. Given the L shaped layout, and the amount of steel in the apartment framework, it's no wonder that kitchen, hallway and side room have no signal at all.  I just hoped it would be the simple solution needed.

Setting up the booster for use later on, I didn't succeed using the router's WPS button to broadcast the access code to handshake with the plug's WPS. There are no instructions for the the route to tell how long the WPS button has to be pressed for its signal to be picked up - if it works at all. I was, however, able to use the manual setup option, and key in the passcode. I used the office Windows 7 computer to do this, as I couldn't find out how to access the setup routine using my Chromebook. In the course of trial and error obtaining a WPS signal, the router lost its internet connection. I had to switch it on and off several times before connection was re-established, and each time the reboot was slow. Never mind. It took half an hour instead of five minutes, but it makes such a difference being able to listen to Radio Four news on a phone while I cook or eat a meal in the small dining room next door to the kitchen. NOw I need to borrow a drill and install that light!

Ministry in a familiar place

This morning, we rose later than usual. I had preparations for today's funeral to complete, and some photocopies of the order of service to get done. Conveniently, there's a well equipped print shop just a few doors down from the apartment block. It's often busy, but on this occasion, I walked in and had the job done within a couple of minutes, quicker and cheaper than I could have done it in the chaplain's office if there'd been a copier or a printer to use for this purpose. That was a relief as it spared me time queuing, or delivering and collecting later.

Then I went with Clare to the beach for her daily swim, and on the return trip we did some food shopping at Mercadona, prior to lunch and an siesta, before driving to Fuengirola for the funeral. I dropped Clare off in Los Boliches, so that she could visit the small 'El Corte Ingles', to look for a few items of summer clothing she'd not been able to find in the giant store in Malaga city centre.

There were about eighty people present for the service. As ever there were problems with the chapel sound system only being able to play standard CDs, and burned CDs being the the wrong format, but one of the mourners brought an all-format player from home which worked, although it was not something I could control and conduct the service smoothly, so a member of the family helped out with this.

These days it's quite normal to have a photo of the deceased on the coffin. On this occasion, the one produced was somewhat unusual, a large A3 print of a picture taken when the man had landed a small part in a movie being made while he was working as a football coach in Alexandria, Egypt.  It was a part of the story of his life which I hadn't heard about until the photo was produced before the service, and the problem was how to display it without a frame. It ended up being Blu-tacked to the catafalque. The family would have known the story. I hope they told people about it afterwards at the wake.

As I had to collect Clare from Los Boliches, I declined the invitation to go back to Puebla Blanca to join them for a drink. Two branches of family, one from Bristol, the other from Tyneside were being united by this bereavement, some meeting again for the first time in decades. Having given them of my best, it was better to let them continue without me. On my way out several people stopped me to express their appreciation for the service. There was nothing more to be said.

Clare's shopping mission was fruitful, and she was pleased with her several purchases. I missed the entrance to the A7 autovia, leaving Los Boliches, so we followed the N340 all the way along the coast back to Malaga. The traffic wasn't too heavy, and it was relaxing to cruise through familiar places, passed through during the eight months of 2013-14 spent on locum duty for the Costa del Sol East Chaplaincy and remember good times past.

  

Unusual port visitor

With nothing planned to do today, I started work on next Sunday's sermon, wrote a few emails and did domestic chores until well into the afternoon. When I finally set my mind on walking over to El Corte Ingles, I noticed from the end of the street the five masts of a big sailing ship above the trees along the sea front, so climbed the steep path up the Gibralfaro for a better view and a photograph. It's a luxury cruise liner which supplements its ship's engines with sails when weather permits, the largest of a series built in France for Club Med in the late 1980s, but now run by Windstar Cruises.

I then continued walking to El Corte Ingles, through the back streets of the Old Town. Much of this is now quite familiar from spending time here last autumn. It takes under half an hour on foot to reach here from the apartment, which is what Clare wanted me to find out.

I visited the store's electronic gadget department, and was mildly disappointed to see very little that was different from what's on offer in John Lewis and PC World back home. Sometimes in the past I've seen new products brought to market in Spain well before the UK, and things brought to market there which are never seen in a British High Street. Demand for new domestic computers, whether desktop or portable, has levelled off in recent years with the rise of tablets and smartphones, and with the latest arrival of voice activated devices delivering information services into the home. It's no something which interests me much. 

No matter how clever it all is, it's potentially intrusive, and may prevent users from making an effort to find out things for themselves rather than wait for the helpful suggestion from a worktop device. I feel the same about SatNavs too. I'd rather learn for myself how to find my way around a place or around a map, by observation, and only use a location sensing device in support, if needed.

The return trip took me to the Palmeria de las Sorpresas quay to inspect the ship I'd seen from afar. It's the MVY Wind Surf, with room for over 300 passengers in spacious accommodation. There are cruise ships which take 5-10 times that number of passengers, catering for the mass market with high standards, in not so much private space, and these are extremely popular for those who cannot afford premium prices. These ships are all interesting from an architectural perspective, but for my own needs, I happy with river cruising on an altogether much smaller scale.

While I was there, I took photographs of the fourteen 'Caminantes en el Puerto' sculptures by Elena Laverón on display as part of the 200th anniversary celebrations for La Farola, now destined to become a maritime museum, walking past them in both directions. The results are here.

It's unlikely I'll be about when Wind Surf leaves harbour, or that I'll see it with its sails unfurled. That would just be too lucky on my part.

   

  

Malaga centre on foot - again

There was nothing to impede a visit to Malaga today, so I caught the 160 bus at a stop nearby on the main street for the half hour journey along the coast road. I was impressed by how quickly the bus filled with passengers, also on the return trip, mid afternoon. The round trip cost €2.14, so it's no wonder buses are well used throughout the coastal urban area.

The bus stops opposite the giant ferris wheel by the port, that offers tourists a view of the city from on high. It goes on from there to the bus station, next to estación Maria Zambrano for rail travel, which is very convenient for getting out of town. The ferris wheel stop gives quick access to the Alameda Principal, the old town and the prestigious retail street, Molina Lario. 

Along this street, crowded with Saturday shoppers as well as tourists, there were several living statue performers, imaginatively presented and well kitted out of their role. Some has an element of eye catching gravity defying illusion about them, but the one that caught my eye was a man dressed as a miner, totally black, wielding a pickaxe, standing on what looked like a mound of coal. The contrast with the bright sunlit colours of the shops behind him was vivid. As I passed, a lady said to her companion in a distinctive Welsh Valleys accent, "Coal is for good luck, see."

I had no specific aim in wandering about, other than photographing things old and new that caught my eye. I also wanted to see how well I could remember the town layout and navigate my way around, although it is only ten weeks since I was last here. My curiosity about the city's cofradias is as strong as ever, and whichever way I went, there were new cofradia buildings to take in. I crossed the river and went to El Corte Ingles to look around. There's a stylish gourmet restaurant and expensive delicatessen on the top floor, with great cityscape views from its rooftop terrace. Always worth a visit, if only to look.

At the river end of the Alameda one of the twin bridges across the river - it's a wide dual carriageway beyond, is being demolished. Construction site notices all over the area either side of the river announce the coming of new metro lines, so I can only assume the loss of a bridge has something to do with this. 

Even so, with views from one side of the remaining bridge obscured by heras fencing and opaque reinforced plastic to shield pedestrians from work below, the length of the bridge on the opposite side was richly decorated with baskets of flowers. Such a nice malagueño touch of cheer.

I returned to the old town, by way of the Atarazana covered market, alive with colour, almost every stall open for trade, people standing at the several bars drinking and eating freshly cooked tapas, buzzing with conviviality. I wanted a spinach and cheese empañada, but could see none on display n any of the pastelerias, perhaps a little too late in the day. Never mind, next time. Then I walked over to the Cathedral and around its exterior, and on to Alcazaba. By this time, having walked two and a half hours in the heat, I thought it was time to find the return stop for a 160 bus. There was one waiting to leave from just outside the ferris wheel, and after half an hour's air conditioned ride, I was back in Rincon, eating a late lunch.

Then, after a brief supermarket visit for water and beer, supper and a slow paseo before bed. Now I feel I've properly arrived.

 

Malaga outing, and the man on the bus

I took the coach into Malaga this morning to go and book by train for Friday. I could have booked on the internet, but with euros to spare, it was a good excuse for an outing to the city. The return fare was €8.18. Bus travel in Spain is cheap and pretty punctual. The main bus station is opposite Maria Zambrano station, and the booking hall a short walk a way. I was pleased with myself for being able to buy my ticket entirely in Spanish.

Not far from the station is the barrio Mercado del Carmen, and I found my way there for a visit to the wonderful market bar, which does an impressive range of fresh cooked fish tapas. There were cockles on the counter, alive and moving. That's how fresh they were. I chose a racion of baby merluza to have with a glass of Alhambra beer, and they were cooked while I drank. So fresh, hot and crispy with the lightest of coatings of olive oil and flour. This alone was worth the journey.

I walked around for an hour or so, along the road next to the harbour, as far as the Alameda, then did a brief inspection of El Corte Ingles technology department, always a favourite, then return to the station to take the metro out to the airport, to see if I could change my flight bookings face to face, rather than struggle with finding out how to on-line. Again I was successful doing it all in Spanish. All I have to do now is acquire a new boarding pass on line. I hope it's worked!

I had to queue for ages to change my open ticket to catch the five o'clock coach back to Nerja. At one of the two places at the counter a young woman was arguing loudly and aggressively with the booking clerk. So much so I wondered when the long arm of the law would turn up. The coach on which I was booked was destined for Almeria, another 250km from Malaga, and it had come from Algeceiras, down west beyond Gibraltar.

I sat next to a man of my age destined for Almuñécar. He asked if I was German, and when I said British he laughed and chanted "Shall I stay or shall I go?", saying how crazy he thought the brexit vote had been, dividing the country like that. I could only agree and say that 48% of us didn't vote Leave. Well, if the man on the bus thinks that, what are the politicians and bankers of Europe thinking? I would like Mr Cameron to have been in my set instead of peddling ridiculous optimism in front of a divided House of Commons consuming itself with in-fighting.

Shopping in Castello(n)

Today, I took the train to Castello(n) la Plana - the 'n' is in brackets since that's the Castilian spelling, but it's dropped in Valencian and Catlaunyan. This is one of the provincial centres of the Valencian area of government - the 'Generalitat' as it's known, so many of the public buildings are given over to civil administration. The town has a long history having been founded in 1251, eighteen years after the reconquista. The Moors had established a town and castle in the mountains behind, but permission was granted to relocate to the plain. 

Its Cathedral has been there since the thirteenth century, but only acquired cathedral status in the seventeenth. It has a sixteenth century bell tower separate from the church, tall enough to have been used as a look-out post in the days when Barbary pirates were busy on the Mediterranean coast, and there were no high rise blocks. The church was re-built in the twentieth century in a simplified Valencian gothic style, after its demolition had been ordered in 1936, following damage during the Civil War. The old town centre is several kilometres from the sea, where there are holiday beaches. There's a long avenue linking the centre with the sea, along which I believe an electric trolley bus called a 'tram' runs.

With the modern development of the town, the path coastal railway line was diverted inland by half a kilometre. A grand new transport hub was constructed, catering for long/middle distance services, plus suburban 'Rodalies' lines linking it with Valencia. Outside there's a coach station. The former railway station building has been preserved and transformed into a local police station. Behind it stands a huge monumental modern multi-storey 'El Corte Ingles', my shopping destination after I'd toured the town to take photos. I was impressed by the amount and variety of modern sculpture in the streets typical of the effort to give prestige a provincial capital city.

I bought one gift in the Christmas market in the Cathedral Plaza and another in El Corte Ingles, but that was all I could manage in the time available. There's just too much choice. 

Back to life

I got Owain to the airport by six, in good time for his flight, and was back in the house by six fifteen. It was still pitch dark, so I went back to bed for a few hours. It didn't seem to make much difference, however, as later in the day I kept nodding off, and had to surrender to a siesta after an afternoon visit to El Corte Ingles for a new battery for my Lumix DMS-LX5 camera. After a couple of months of non-use, sitting in my suitcase while I got used to my new Sony HX50, it was re-chargeable no longer. I've only had the camera ten months, but got it at a third of its list price because it had been a display model. I daresay the battery was worked very hard and not looked after properly in the year or so it was on show, so I'm not surprised really. A new battery cost €31.80 and after charging, the camera is as beautiful to use as it ever was.

Bill and Susanna came around for supper. I cooked a paella to honour the occasion. It's only my second effort using the largest frying pan the kitchen has to offer, something of a challenge catering for four. The state of the art cooker top with touch controls has only three hobs, one of which is too large for any of the existing cooking pots. Clearly it was designed with a big skillet or paella pan in mind. I must put this on the wish list for the house. It's one of the few things that's lacking in a marvellously equipped residence for a soon to be appointed chaplain (we hope). I'm due to return at the end of August to cover the time until the new priest is ready to move in and take over. At the moment there's no idea as to whether that's going to be a couple of weeks or months.

 

Home making, Quiet Day and getting connected

A second day with rain, yesterday, albeit more intermittent. I spent several hours finishing off the preparation for the planned Quiet Day at Cortijo Carranque tomorrow. Then, after lunch, we went to the big El Corte Ingles to look for a few small kitchen items, a sieve, some wooden spoons, a peeler, plus a plastic spatula, a fish slice. We have some excellent stainless steel pans spatulas and fish slice. We also have two fine non-stick frying pans. These would be ruined very quickly if used with any metallic implements. We were't all that successful, but we had tea there to make a fruitless search seem more worthwhile. We would have been better off going to one of the many Chinese hardware supermarkets, which seem to stock everything you can think of, even if the quality may sometimes leave something to be desired. I was amazed to receive a phone call from the Telefonica engineer enquiring if we'd yet acquired a key to the local telecoms distribution box. Sadly the answer was no. Tracking one down is the problem and contacting the keyholder is the problem. 

Today started with driving Clare down to Mogens Dahl, the chiropracter who has worked wonders on my back this past month. She fell and hurt her shoulder a couple of days ago. We were fairly certain it wasn't broken, but out of alignment in its socket. I succeeded in getting an emergency appointment, and the delay wasn't a disadvantage as the initial injury trauma subsided, making the joint a little easier to work on. It meant I had delay departure for Cortijo Carranque for an hour and arrive late, after dropping Clare off in Los Boliches to go on a Chinese supermarket shopping expedition. 

Being late hardly mattered however. It turned out nobody had booked in to attend the quiet day. I enjoyed doing the preparation for this as well as the poorly attended Lent Course. It kept my mind active and focussed on things that matter to me. If few were interested in the offer to share these things, inshallah. I still made the hour's trip up into the Rio Grande Valley for lunch in the open air, with a warm breeze fragrant with orange blossom, and enjoyed good conversation with Angela and Martin, followed by a siesta. We then strolled down through the orchards to the river, plucked some roots of wild mint from the water's edge, to carry back for potting and eventual installation in the yet to be created chaplaincy house garden. Angela picked some orange blossom and half a dozen oranges for me to take home to Clare. The fragrance of the spring sierras now fills our dining room, and fresh oranges were served up for pudding.

And yes, the Telefonica man, bless him, phoned again in the morning to ask about the key. I had to tell him that I expected to obtain a contact number later in day, but couldn't say when that would mean I'd have a key. I hope he understood my careful slow English. Indeed when I got back to Los Boliches, just before six, I tried ringing the contact numbers received during the day, but only found office answering machine messages, barely decipherable. The resident key holder's house, just down the street still appears as if the occupants are away. 

Ah well, the world still has the Chaplaincy mobile phone number, but few callers seem to let it ring for long enough for me to find and unlock it to take the call. Then the auto answering service cuts in with a series of nags and a robotic voice in Spanish which is simply too fast (and often too crackly) for a learner to decipher. Still, I am much comforted by the diligence of the engineer who calls daily for a progress report so that he can get on with hooking us up. I can't imagine getting that quality of service from British Telecom.