Happy family celebration

I was glad of a quiet uneventful Friday to prepare a short homily for the wedding, and an order of service in booklet format, which I could handle unobtrusively during the ceremony. It took a while to figure out the page print layout, as it's ages since I last did an odd booklet without recourse to the publishing tools  I keep on my office desktop PC at home. All good exercise for a lazy brain.

This afternoon I left with plenty of time to spare in order to arrive early enough in Benahavis to take a stroll around the village, and take a few photos. The original village was established by the Moors in the 11th century with Montemayor Castle, which I didn't see. It's expanded greatly as an exclusive holiday resort in the twentieth century, boasting nine golf courses and several hotels, and a reputation for some of the region's best restaurants. 

Not surprisingly, it's said to have the highest per capita income of any municipality in Andalusia. As ever with rural areas in this part of the world, new buildings are constructed in traditional styles. Interestingly, the parish church built only seven years ago, stands free on a terrace at rooftop level, with a parking garage and a parish social centre beneath at street level. A good use of space, and in a place like this I imagine land sells at premium prices.

The wedding blessing was a real family affair in the sense that the couple had been together 29 years, with children and grandchildren to show for it. It took place before a gathering of sixty guests on the upper terrace of a Granh Hotel function suite under a canopy that was only partly successful at shielding us from the afternoon sun. The service wasn't too long however, with no hymns and only background recorded music to enter and leave by. 

During the pre-dinner drinks reception after the service, a guitarist played a rich mix of traditional solo flamenco and latino fusion music with a recorded backing track. There was also a DeeJay for the disco after the meal. I struggled to chat with the guitarist in Spanish, and he was most gracious. I enquired about his instrument, which turned out to have been made in Valencia, designed to be as good for classical repertoire as flamenco. My first Spanish guitar, now fifty years old was also made in Valencia, so this was a source of delight for me. He invited me to have a go, a most generous gesture, while he was setting up. It was quite an effort to play, as my left hand had become quite stiff from holding on to a Bible and a service sheet during the ceremony. No time to revive the fingers for such an unexpected invitation.

I was relieved to find that my name hadn't been included on the guests' dining table list. Sometimes it happens because the hosts presume the welcome they wish to extend. You don't find out, until it's too awkward and ungracious to decline. At the end of the drinks reception in the heat, I was tired and only too glad to get away and make the hour's return drive in a cool air-conditioned car, to arrive home before sunset, leaving to their celebration, not just a happy couple, but also a happy extended family and friends.
 

A Eucharist, a Funeral and a Wedding

Given the location of the Chaplain's house, it makes sense to take the back road up to Mijas pueblo and follow the slow road above the town towards Alhaurin, rather than drive through slow urban traffic and pick up the new highway the other side of town to reach to same junction for the road to Coin. Today, I timed myself, and found the journey times equal by either route. For me, the back road wins, as it's less dependent on variations in urban traffic flow. It's more varied, slower to drive, but overall, it takes the same time to get to the evangelical chapel on the outskirts of Coin where Anglican services are held twice a month. There were nine of us this morning.

After coffee and a chat, I drove back to Fuengirola, but instead of going back to the house, I found my way to the municipal cemetery chapel (aka funeral centre) for the first time. A few decades ago, the public cemetery was located near Fuengirola Zoo, but forty years of urban expansion compelled the re-location of the town's necropolis further out, on the edge of town. This required relocating 'columbaria', (if it's the right word to apply, not only to cremated remains, but to the honeycomb walls of niche tombs for coffins), and the building of a new chapel and mourners' assembly rooms.

Reflecting a pragmatic approach to dealing with death, the new municipal funeral facility is situated in a pleasingly quiet corner of an industrial zone in the rio Fuengirola valley, with a vetinerary centre and municipal sewage works for near neighbours, not far from the local horse race course. It even has its own built-in bar and restaurant, reflecting the social value given to bereavement events, in a way that British local authorities would fight shy of in their facility design. Anyway, I arrived an hours early and was grateful for the opportunity to eat and drink something before the service I was due to conduct.

As the deceased 'guest of honour' on this occasion was a renowned local entertainer and musician, the funeral chapel was full. I'd guess over 200 people. Quiet remarkable for a nongenarian. The public address system worked, but wasn't good. The sound reproduction system had died, so we had to make use of an imported portable music player to relay recorded music through the public address system. It was inadequate, but the congregation took it all in good spirit and the singing, despite the recorded accompaniment, was a worthy tribute to the one whose life was being celebrated. 

I was handed an electric bell push by the funeral directors, to summon them to bring on and remove the coffin. It worked fine, except that during the tributes it got dashed to pieces on the floor. I picked up the bits and reassembled them during the final hymn, and when the congregation had taken their leave, I hit the button hopefully, and to my relief the funeral assistants appeared, as summoned.

The reception after was in Fuengirola's 'Salon de Varietes', a former cinema, rescued from oblivion by British ex-pats, the deceased being a key actor in this enterprise. The English language theatre, since that's what it now is, is right in the heart of the town, obviously busy, active any time, but today packed with mourners remembering someone who was, in every respect, the reason for being there together. It said a lot about community. It also said a lot about the value of inspiration and leadership.

I slipped away after an hour of interesting conversations, went home to freshen up and prepare to drive down the N340/A7 to the edge of Estepona, before turning inland to find the hill village of Benahavis, developed as a holiday resort, with an extensive spa hotel, catering for hundreds in a quiet place away from the coast in a cool secluded place. Here I met Linda and Bill, their family and friends, to prepare for a wedding blessing celebration this coming Saturday. 

I'd been asked by the Chaplaincy of Costa del Sol West to help them out with this, as their own (locum) chaplain was unwell. I reached the village on time, but as there were few signs, and I had no idea of what the hotel looked like, it took me an extra ten minutes to find it. A modern complex, with palacial moorish features and lots of swimming pools next to a dryish river bed in a remarkable valley setting.

I understand why a couple wanting to tie the knot, but without attachment to any church building (as is often the case nowadays) should choose such a quiet secluded and beautiful place. Making a lifelong mutual commitment remains an important expression of love for some people, and it's worthy of being taken seriously, whatever else may have happened in their lives before. Getting wed takes as much courage as staying wed. That's what I'll tell them on Saturday.