End of Summer days

Early in the day as Summer draws to an end, the Sierra de Mijas is for a while wreathed in cloud, if not the coastal plain. Either way, it's still hot and uncomfortably humid, which slows us down and saps the motivation to do much. I'm thankful the parish car has air conditioning. Sometimes when I get in it, the surface temperature is over forty degrees, but after a short drive the system gets the interior temperature below thirty. 

We're not used to managing air conditioning in the house. Fresh air is more essential, so we cool the bedroom down to get to sleep, shut it off and leave the window open. We have yet to get the lounge air conditioning to work satisfactorily, and believe it's out fault for not understanding the operating manual properly, as it's different from the one upstairs.

Clare decided to auto-clean our high tech oven, and succeeded by guessing the operating manual in Spanish. I was set the task of translation into suitable English for inclusion in the Chaplain's house user guide with the use of a dictionary. It was an interesting experience which taught me a lot about how different languages express themselves when giving advice. 

On Monday, I had a call about officiating a funeral in Benalmadena, which I was unable to accept as it was to take place this coming Thursday, on which day Anglicans in Andalusia and Portugal will be gathering in Gibraltar Cathedral for the Enthronement of Bishop Robert Innes as our new diocesan Bishop of Gibraltar in Europe.

Clare and I went out for a meal at 'La Vieja Scuela' restaurant, where my last birthday banquet was held back at Easter. It's a lovely homely experience, and the food and wine are great, some dishes are cooked before your eyes on health and safety nightmare stoves in a space among tables where clientele can smell progress and watch the amazing art of a laid-back master chef at work in public. We shared the postres which adorned my last meal here, strawberries stewed in a black pepper sauce - just glorious. I started off with something different - black pudding, scrambled egg, raisins and pine nuts, followed by chicken in saffron sauce. Talk about a feast!

On Tuesday, I had a call about another funeral which I was able to accept, as the date proposed is a week Thursday. This will take place at Fuengirola cemetery chapel. It'll be my first visit there. I spent half an hour queuing to cash an expenses cheque in a bank in town at lunchtime. There were ten people on front of me and two cashiers working. At least it was cool inside. Afterwards, Bill and I met for a beer and tapas lunch and a long talk at the Central Cafe near the bus station, one of my favourite places to hang out in the town centre.

Wednesday morning I celebrated the midweek Eucharist for ten people. Next week, I was told, regular coffee mornings recommence, as more regulars return from Summer vacations in cooler climes. I was lazy this morning because of the heat, and took the cooler option of taking the car to church, in the hope of finding a parking place in the gated compound to which the church has access rights. I had a choice of several places. It's the first concrete evidence that transient visitors are no longer taking parking slots they're not entitled to because another family member has key access. Some at least have gone back home and to work elsewhere. Apart from this parking around town remains a residents' nightmare. There's never enough spare capacity around peak holiday seasons.

A wet non-bank holiday

It's not a bank holiday here, but a normal working day today, and time for Kath, Anto and Rhiannon to leave us. After a long slow breakfast I took them to Malaga Airport to pick up their holiday hire car from Goldcar at noon. I was there and back again in half an hour, despite the rain. Unexpectedly, they had to queue for two hours to collect the car before setting out north on the A7/N340 in the direction of Almeria, and then inland to Lorca, where they were due to spend the night at the Parador hotel. Mid afternoon we had a photo of them enjoying a picnic lunch on the Balcon de Europa in Nerja, a place well familiar to Clare and I from previous locum stints. Early evening we had a photo of the wonderful view from the hotel room at their destination. Tomorrow they travel to Sta Pola for their second week.

Despite the rain and heavy cloud, we drove with Owain up to Mijas pueblo, enjoyed a tapas lunch at the Secret Garden Restaurant, and did the obligatory tour of the shops and viewpoints. It was quite cold up there because of the rain. I was disappointed it wasn't conducive to a longer stroll, but Owain was glad to have been there. After our return, I went down to church to meet up with Jim and then we took Peachy her Easter Communion. As we left, the rain poured on us, so we dashed up the street and caught a bus back to Los Boliches to save getting any wetter. Fortunately I'd driven down to church and succeeded in finding a parking space close by the church, so I didn't get went tramping back up the hill to the house.

Owain cooked us some delicious fresh filleted sardinas for supper, with a tomato salad, washed down with a bottle of Ribera del Duero, a wine for which he has enquired a fresh enthusiasm. It originates in the region south of the Rioja zone in northern Spain and has a fine character of its own. It's the vino de casa at la Vieja Escuela restaurant, and I've noticed a lot more of it on sale around here than I've seen in other areas.

There was no alternative to early bed, as Owain's early return to Cardiff with Vueling tomorrow demands a five o'clock wake up call.
 

Hallelujah anyhow - Christ is risen indeed!

I woke up early, buzzing gently with the prospect of the day's celebrations, then got up and went out to watch the Easter sunrise with clouds promising a rainy day to follow.

Val ferried me to Benalmadena for the nine thirty Eucharist, then back to Los Boliches for the second service, to ensure I could arrive and not have time wasting parking hassles. It was wonderfully relaxing to be driven in such a situation of potential pressure. There were twenty five of us at Benalmadena, and we sang the service unaccompanied, as the organist was in the UK attending the christening of his grandson. Then there were eighty of us at St Andrews, almost a full house. 

It rained during most of the service and for several hours afterwards, and afterwards the family gathered and we dodged showers all the way to La Vieja Escuela restaurant where we were booked in for a festive lunch. It was an amazing meal, accompanied by excellent Ribera de Duero red wine, and a starter of air dried jamon cut from the bone. I had a dish containing three different kinds of tomatoes, flavored with black rock salt, followed by rice and  chicken fillets cooked in a subtle cream and saffron sauce, with strawberries to follow, poached in a black pepper sauce. All new and memorable tastes to savour. The others were equally delighted with their choices too, and afterwards we walked along the still wet promenade to Torreblanca for a drink, before strolling home.

Sadly the rain meant the curtailment of the local processions of the image of Cristo resucitado so the streets were extra quiet where one would have expected them to be full of people waiting for the procession to pass. Late in the evening I happened on a Fuengirola TV broadcast, which showed the bedraggled procession arriving at the Parish Church of our Lady in Plaza del Carmen, where all the processionistas, civic officials took refuge, along with the trono of Cristo resucitado and its bearers.

Thanks to this excellent broadcast service I was also able to capture a few inside views which timing and location would have otherwise denied me.

The band reassembled in the gallery and played, and the trono moved around in a restricted area that had been hastily cleared of its bench pews to create a space. Every now and then, at a signal, all the hand bells used in procession to signal between the different sections of walkers would be rung together and the trono exalted up at arms length by its bearers in celebration - women as well as men included, I noted.

Rain must have been a disappointment for those who'd put so much time and effort into preparing for this crowning event of such a remarkable week in the life of the Andalusian faithful, but even so they made the best they could of a very damp occasion. As they say in the Caribbean - Hallelujah anyhow.