Mass disappointment

Friday was sunny but cloudy with a few showers, a fresh day, and good for walking, so I climbed up to the Gibralfaro mirador in the afternoon before making a circuit of Old Town streets less familiar to me. Looking down from above, the port looked emptier than usual. An HGV ferry and a container ship which has been slowly discharging and adding to its cargo all week.

Then I walked down and into the old town to look for the Vega photographic shop I recalled from last time, not far from the Iglesia de Santiago where Picasso was baptized. As I was having trouble tracking it down, I googled for photography shops, identified the correct name and map location. The only trouble was that I had trouble making sense of what the map said on such a close up scale. at this point I was only couple of hundred metres away, so my phone said, but which direction wasn't clear, until I walked a while to establish my direction of travel. Sometimes, Google maps is very useful, and other times, it's just confusing. You really can't beat an old fashioned street map, so long as you can work out which way is north.

It started to rain, and as it was nearly seven, I set out for the apartment. Bells rang announcing the evening Mass at Santiago, so I decided to join the congregation at worship. There must have been a hundred there. Most took part in the service, though some just prayed privately before one of the side chapels containing a processional image of Christ or Our Lady. There was a young priest on duty. He spoke fast and had a thick accent, therefore little he said apart from the Mass itself did I understand, and likewise the man who read the lesson and Psalm. I couldn't even identify the piece of scripture being read. Most disappointing, bad for my linguistic self-esteem. Still, it was good to spend time praying a part of a congregation, and answering Mass in English, as I still haven't got around to memorising the Spanish responses.

Saturday, it rained all day, so I didn't go out of the apartment, but occupied myself sermon writing new reading and email answering. I don't know where the time went, how a day can just slip by with seemingly little to show for it.

   

St John Baptist's Day

I had to content myself with reading the office of the day on this fiesta, and not go looking for a Mass to attend at the Iglesia San Juan in the Old Town, as I had Owain to attend to. I wasn't sure if there's be anything out of the ordinary which would interest him, in the wake of last weekend's liturgical busyness in the ancient barrios. The place is so full of visitors from near and far away, as European school summer holidaymakers arrive, and there is only so much that local police and security services can handle. 

After Owain enjoyed another swim, mid-morning while it was still cool, with the promise of yet another spell of 35 degree C  heat later on, we went to the Alcazaba Palace, a first for him. As a visit to the Alhambra Palace in Granada is impossible on this visit, it's a fair consolation. Malaga's Alcazaba with its garden fountains, court yard pools and stream running down the main path, is a very pleasant place to be. 

Being early meant it wasn't crowded. Rather than climb to the Gibralfaro fortress with the sun high in the sky, we returned for lunch and a siesta, then made the ascent early evening before Owain's second swim of the day and supper at the Chirunguito Cachalote on the Playa la Malagueta. This was a pleasant place to eat, cooling down earlier along this stretch, as the sun gets masked by sea front high rise blocks. We drank a decent Rosado house wine and ate a dozen and a half grilled sardinas between us. plus a big bowl of salad. A good place to take Mum when she comes in ten days time, Owain remarked.