Walking the Old Town again

A humid night, waking up to thunder storms from six. We breakfasted at Cafe Flor across the Paseo de Reding from the hotel. Clare had tortilla and I have a huge bacon baguette. The heavens opened while we were eating, and I found the pavements very slippery thereafter. I didn't realise until I examined my shoes later how the tread had almost entirely worn off. I'd have been fine if I'd changed into sandals, but I didn't and as a result, our walk around the streets of the old town felt unnervingly precarious.

We went to see if 'La Casa Invisible' community project in the old town was still operational, and it seems it is, thought it's closed Mondays. We had coffee in 'Dulces Dreams' a gourmet coffee shop jut around the corner, opposite Dos Martires Church, then meandered back through the streets to the Cathedral. It was too crowded with tourists to be worth the effort of visiting, so we headed back to the hotel for a rest before lunch with Rosella at the same restaurant where were ate last night. It's four years since we last had a face to face chat. Just after we met at the hotel, we bumped into Fr Louis, the present chaplain of Malaga as we crossed the road. It was a pure chance meeting, and a welcome opportunity to make contact with him. He didn't join us for lunch as he was on his way to the gym.

After we parted company with Rosella, we rested for a while, then went for a walk along the port and into the Old Town for another walk around, with a drink and slice of delicious carrot cake to crown the day. All in all we walked over fourteen kilometres, before a picnic supper and even earlier than usual bed, given a five o'clock ride to the airport in the morning.

Convent discovery

This morning's news brought the announcement of Professor Stephen Hawking's death at 76, living longer and more creatively, thanks to modern medical medicine and technologies, than any other sufferer of motor neurone disease, fifty five years since diagnosis in fact. Truly one of the greatest creative minds of the twentieth century, trapped in a paralysed body, yet remaining capable to the end of his life of participation in scientific and social life, thanks to a high level of personal care and support. He has inspired several generations of young people to consider the universe with curiosity awe, wonder. There was no room for God in his world of theorisation, but he was never the kind of thinker to discourage others from being curious about the subject, and to think for themselves. What a wonderful legacy.

There were just four of us for the midweek Eucharist this morning, I prayed for Ken Dodd, conveyor of joy and laughter (a churchgoer apparently) and Stephen Hawking communicator of awe and wonder, ( yet an atheist), giving God thanks for two such remarkably different twentieth century lives. We were four for the bible study following the service, but the conversation still made it well worthwhile. When we finished, I went to the bank nearby to cash my cheque al portador for the locum duty fee. It comes in handy as I was just about to run out of the euros I brought with me. I had a long wait to be seen, not because there was a queue, as on other occasions there has been, but because the cajera disappeared with another client, so I had to wait until a colleague noticed my plight and came over to attend to me. As banks here shut at two, it was a relief to me as the hour was far approaching after my wait.

It was decided not to hold a bible study in Velez Malaga this afternoon, as too many of those hoping to come were away this week, or had other urgent duties to perform. I didn't mind, as took time to draft a Sunday sermon, and then take a walk around town with my camera, and see how much more work has been started to erect Semana Santa spectator ranks of seating. I found that work has also started on some sections of the Alameda, and that must be a complex segregation task, given that bus stops in both directions and still operational, not to mention the area cordoned off for Metro line construction.

Scaffolding topped by a platform has been erected in the narrow street between the Cathedral and the Bishop's Palace. It's not for spectator seating, as processions will have to pass beneath it, to enter through the north central doors. Most likely it's for television cameras, given that Semana Santa in Malaga is broadcasted live on a local TV channel.

In a side street between the Cathedral and the Alcazaba, I found open for the first time the 17th century Cistercian Abbey of Sta Ana. There's a Museum of Sacred Art, but the entrance was closed for building work, but the late 19th century church was open. It's a plain small building with grill enclosed west gallery and loft in the south wall above the chancel, for nuns keeping vigil over the Blessed Sacrament, when exposed for adoration. Above the aumbry lies the recumbent image of the dead Christ, before burial, and Mary looking down on him distraught. In its simplicity, it's a powerful image for contemplation. 

Sta Ana closed as a convent in 2009, but is still used as a place of worship. During restoration work, it was discovered that the Abbey had been built on top of the city's ancient Roman baths. Not surprising really, as the remains of the first century Roman theatre are nearby.

Since I've been here, I've put the telly on once to find out how it works. It's attached to a digi-box but I have yet to figure out if it does programmes in any other language than Spanish. Somehow the evenings slip by quickly, listening to or reading the news, editing photos, making a meal. There's no time to get bored.