Choice removal enforced in effect

I slept well, and am no worse for wear. The pollen count isn't high by any count, so something specific and localised is causing a strong allergic reaction. At the end of the morning we drove to La Cala de Mijas, for Peter and Linda's 30th anniversary party of settling on the Costa del Sol, and we gave Di a lift there. There were about a dozen guests all told. Clare and Ann swam in their pool, with Peter's great grandchildren. I wonder what they thought of that!

Mid afternoon we returned and dropped off Clare at Casa de la Esperanza for a rest, while I took Ann for a drive up to Mijas Pueblo. We parked on a lower level of a ten story car park set into the hillside. There was no public information on display about parking charges in any language, though I didn't think it would be much. At the entrance gate our number plate was scanned and a ticket issued with the number printed on it. Just like the car park system in Sabanillas encountered during my summer locum in Estepona.

We walked up the hill into the village, visited the Virgen de la Peña shrine, went up to the bull ring and into the church square, marvelled at the views, and then, tired by the effort, headed downhill back to the car. When we reached the payment machine I discovered it was con tarjeta only, and was told by the car park attendant that there was a coin plus card machine on the tenth storey. 

I was determined to get rid of the small change acquired in yesterday's display of passive aggression at the restaurant on the Palmeria  de Sorpresas in Malaga, so I decided to go up to the tenth floor. The lift was so slow or else stuck in transit so I had to climb the stairs to reach the machine and get rid of a euro's worth of change. It took me ages, as I wasted time waiting for the non existent lift, and Ann phoned me from the car to check on me, worried my ankle had given me trouble. 

Having paid, the barrier recognises the car's approach, the ticket is no longer needed. It's a smart system, but hardly user friendly when there is no explanation or advice available in an almost deserted large building. Smart but impersonal and dystopian. People serve the machine that takes away not just your money, but your choices, putting you at a disadvantage, punishing if you wish to use old fashioned cash. What if I'd not been able to climb those stairs to pay cash?

Between us we cooked supper, and afterwards I uploaded photos to share with Ann. I had an email from the church warden in Costa del Sol West, announcing the licensing of their new chaplain at last, telling about his licensing service in Sotogrande, and thanking me along with other locums, for the support given during the past two years of vacancy. That was a small kindness I've not experienced before. A human note on which to end this day

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.
 

Tales of droppings

I fell asleep in front of the Semana Santa TV broadcast l
ast night and woke up at three thirty to retire to bed. It was nearly ten by the time we were all up and eating breakfast. I had a rendezvous at the office at eleven to pick up a cheque and then go and cash it at the bank. On the way back I noticed that the Casa Hermanidad of the local Parish cofradia was open to the public to view its treasures, and returned on foot to visit and take photos.

You can see the rest of them here It was great to see children there welcoming visitors as well as adults. These are real community places.

By midday we were all re-united for an hour on the beach in Los Boliches. Then I drove everyone up to Mijas for lunch at Pepe Mauros restaurant where I took Eddie and Ann a couple of weeks ago, and had a great meal together. A brief introductory tour of the main sights and shops of Mijas followed, then we drove back down the hill to Los Boliches RENFE station, so that I could take the train into Malage for the Tuesday evening Semana Santa processions. This time I positioned myself at the other end of the Alameda Principal, where processions turn into Larios, the main shopping street. I wonder if this central retailing thoroughfare does any business at all during Semana Santa.

What caught my attention this evening was the activity of children, not in the processions themselves (and there are many hundreds of children participating), but out with parents and grandparents occupying a hired seat in one of the stands. They play around, for the most part unhindered. I noticed that several had what looked like a multi coloured lollypop on a stick. It looked as if it would taste horrible. After I while I realised that I was correct in this because what was on the stick being carried by the children was a ball of candle wax, which each had acquired by collecting the drips from candles being burned by passing Nazarenos.

There was an element of competition to see who could grow the largest ball of wax. I observed small children moving through the processions entreating candle bearers to drip some wax for them. I observed that the children dressed up as Nazarenos (of whom there are many), who were most willing to join in the game and tip their candles.

As soon as dark descended, the temperature dropped so I headed for the train, and benefited from the extra services scheduled for Holy Week. I was back in the house by ten to eleven with another ninety photos to look at and upload. Not only that, there's such a lot to think about - so many people making so much effort to pull together in a public act of witness. The Police and the Fire Service (Los Bomberos) turned out their leaders in full dress uniform, half a dozen of them were riding magnificent horses. They were followed by a Council workman in his Cleansing Department fatigues with a bright new green brush and a red bin, there to collect up the horse droppings, and marching proudly to do so. Talking of which, in the afternoon up in Mijas I noticed that donkeys and horses wear canvas bags over their tails and rear ends to catch any droppings and keep the streets clean. An interesting contrast.

Mijas pueblo stroll and Obsequies in Coin

After a morning preparing for today's funeral in the church office and lunch at home for a change, I drove up to Mijas, having found a signpost in that direction just up the hill from where I'm staying. It took me on some very steep, narrow and winding back roads, challenging enough to make me feel quite nervous, even though all were stable and well metaled. The route wound up through a series of urbanizacions, clinging to steep hillsides. It must be quite difficult if not impossible to access some of these roads if it rains, or if conditions ever become icy. Anyway, I stopped to park at the west end of the town and walked in through the barrio de Sta Ana, with its little church and fountain of seven spouts in its courtyard.

 

The place was just starting to wake up for the afternoon, as tourists finished lunch and began their walkabout. This place was probably first settled in the Bronze Age, and continuously inhabited since, but not on its present scale. Its present size and density of buildings in Andalusian style speaks of the huge expansion that has taken place since 1960. It looks traditional, but that's largely due to planners and architects keeping faith with their tradition, to good effect. 

The Parish church, sits on a promontory opposite the small Plaza de Toros and the gardens beyond overlook Fuengirola, 450 metres down below. 

The 16th century church is dedicated to the Immaculate Conception, although the Parish dedication to Our Lady of the Rocks/Crags dates from earlier I suspect. The tower is 14th century and started life as a refuge from invading Barbary pirates, before conversion to a belfry.

The south aisle of the church was being made ready for a nativity tableau, with dark painted scenery and staging already in place. It's difficult to imagine how this will look when dedicated, but I won't see it this side of Christmas. With my return proposed within the Octave of the Epiphany, I may be in a position to see it then.  More photos of Mijas can be found here

After a brisk three quarters of an hour walk around the village, I drove to Alhaurin Golf village to join the funeral cortege which started from home. I was glad not to have to navigate there on my own. The cemetery chapel in Coín, is a great barn of a place built in 2001. Despite its mock traditional facade, it's not nearly as pleasing to the eye as the chapel in Alhaurin. This is how it looked after the service.

The dozen close family and friends were joined here by another fifty. The woman who died was known locally as a singer in clubs and bars. I imagine many of those who came to say goodbye were fans if not friends. The service went as planned and intended by the two sons. One surprise was the announcement by the younger son of his engagement to the young lady who'd just sung a song as a tribute to her deceased mother in law to be. It was dusk by the time the service finished, and once the coffin was loaded up for an journey to the crematorium unaccompanied by mourners, as is common custom here, the congregation gathered around and escorted the hearse out of the gates.

Although the road I took for the return journey was the top class one, I found it quite difficult to drive, as it's unlit outside of town. There are not nearly as many reflective surfaces to warn of changes as I'm used to in Britain. The hills are steep and the curves sharp, so a great deal of extra concentration is needed to avoid raising the pulse level. I cooked chicken with fuet spicy sausage, peppers and broccoli for supper, a welcome consolation after some challenging hours behind the steering wheel.