An original solution to wear and tear

After a morning of routine domestic and office tasks, I took myself and my camera out to the port on my usual itinerary. Overnight there'd been a changeover of ships berthed, and the ferry to Melilla was busy being loaded with freight lorries bound for Morocco, or elsewhere in North Africa. I think it makes a couple of runs a week, but this is the first time I've seen it this year. 

Parked in the open area near the Pompidu Centre was a large mobile exhibition vehicle, branded with Google's name and colours, with a minimal hospitality suit and presentation area in front of it. A promotional road show is out and about visiting sites in different parts of the city, aimed at getting entrepreneurs to buy specialised Google digital services and training to use them. It didn't seem all that  busy, perhaps because it had only just arrived, or because few local people were out and about, but still enjoying a lunch break indoors, given the uncertain weather.

On my way back from a circuit of the old town, I used the route which passes through a pedestrian tunnel on the hillside above the road tunnel underneath the Alcabaza fortress at the base of the Gibralfaro mountain. Close to the entrance I noticed an open gate in the fence which forms the Old Town-side enclosure of this historic edifice. It opened on to a pathway around half of the base of the walls, driven through dense ground covering shrubs. What I found unusual was that the pathway was paved and lined on both sides with sheet iron, rather than a fence. From afar the path is an unusual rust-red gash through green shrubs covering the hillside. Once I started walking along it, I realised the ingenuity of the idea.

Visitors can walk along the hillside to the point where it overlooks the 1st century Roman theatre, and there are iron viewing platforms for those who want to take pictures of the Old Town from up at  rooftop level. With a potentially high volume of visitors, maintaining a path through such vigorous and thick shrubbery and enclosing it for safety's sake with low chain link fence would be costly to maintain. Vegetation would encroach on the path, and the pedestrian wear and tear would make a path, whether paved or unpaved, subject to erosion at the edges. 

Constructing a stylish iron trough as a hillside walkway provides safe access for abled and disabled visitors alike, and helps conserve the fortress grounds. Clever. I didn't notice this last summer, as the gate was always closed when I was passing this way, possibly something to do with the conversion of the theatre ruins into an open air auditorium for a summer season of world classic dramas, and not needing there to be a crowd of people overlooking the stage from a distance and watching for free. At least, that was my conclusion.

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.

   

Malaga centre on foot - again

There was nothing to impede a visit to Malaga today, so I caught the 160 bus at a stop nearby on the main street for the half hour journey along the coast road. I was impressed by how quickly the bus filled with passengers, also on the return trip, mid afternoon. The round trip cost €2.14, so it's no wonder buses are well used throughout the coastal urban area.

The bus stops opposite the giant ferris wheel by the port, that offers tourists a view of the city from on high. It goes on from there to the bus station, next to estación Maria Zambrano for rail travel, which is very convenient for getting out of town. The ferris wheel stop gives quick access to the Alameda Principal, the old town and the prestigious retail street, Molina Lario. 

Along this street, crowded with Saturday shoppers as well as tourists, there were several living statue performers, imaginatively presented and well kitted out of their role. Some has an element of eye catching gravity defying illusion about them, but the one that caught my eye was a man dressed as a miner, totally black, wielding a pickaxe, standing on what looked like a mound of coal. The contrast with the bright sunlit colours of the shops behind him was vivid. As I passed, a lady said to her companion in a distinctive Welsh Valleys accent, "Coal is for good luck, see."

I had no specific aim in wandering about, other than photographing things old and new that caught my eye. I also wanted to see how well I could remember the town layout and navigate my way around, although it is only ten weeks since I was last here. My curiosity about the city's cofradias is as strong as ever, and whichever way I went, there were new cofradia buildings to take in. I crossed the river and went to El Corte Ingles to look around. There's a stylish gourmet restaurant and expensive delicatessen on the top floor, with great cityscape views from its rooftop terrace. Always worth a visit, if only to look.

At the river end of the Alameda one of the twin bridges across the river - it's a wide dual carriageway beyond, is being demolished. Construction site notices all over the area either side of the river announce the coming of new metro lines, so I can only assume the loss of a bridge has something to do with this. 

Even so, with views from one side of the remaining bridge obscured by heras fencing and opaque reinforced plastic to shield pedestrians from work below, the length of the bridge on the opposite side was richly decorated with baskets of flowers. Such a nice malagueño touch of cheer.

I returned to the old town, by way of the Atarazana covered market, alive with colour, almost every stall open for trade, people standing at the several bars drinking and eating freshly cooked tapas, buzzing with conviviality. I wanted a spinach and cheese empañada, but could see none on display n any of the pastelerias, perhaps a little too late in the day. Never mind, next time. Then I walked over to the Cathedral and around its exterior, and on to Alcazaba. By this time, having walked two and a half hours in the heat, I thought it was time to find the return stop for a 160 bus. There was one waiting to leave from just outside the ferris wheel, and after half an hour's air conditioned ride, I was back in Rincon, eating a late lunch.

Then, after a brief supermarket visit for water and beer, supper and a slow paseo before bed. Now I feel I've properly arrived.

 

Luxurious respite

For the first time since I've been here, I drove the car into town and parked a some distance from the Church shop, so that after celebrating the midweek Eucharist, Clare and I could leave without delay for Malaga. We'd booked in to the Gibralfaro Parador hotel for the night, to give us a romantic 24 hour break before Clare flight back to Cardiff. It's situated a hundred metres above the city plain, just beneath the old military outpost, form where you can see in every direction for miles. The view from the Parador's terraces and rooms across the city is also spectacular, or would be in this occasion if it weren't for the dreadful heat haze. At least it's that much cooler on high, and the roar of the city is muted a little, if not suppressed behind triple glazed windows. Here's the view through the haze, with the daily ferry to the Spanish enclave of Mellila on the Moroccan coast, down there in port.

We had a light lunch in the bar, then caught the 35 bus down to the Ajuntamiento, to make our way to the modern entrance to the Alcazaba Palace, through a tunnel and a lift up to the top level of rooms and gardens. It's a delightful place for a hot afternoon, with its fountains and runnng water. Not nearly as spectacular as the Alhambra in Granada, but with many treasures to glimpse in a smaller area, and not nearly as crowded. 

It's my second visit, and I was pleased that Clare liked it as much as I did. We had to wait ages for a 35 bus to take us back up the hill. We could have taken the steep footpath up through the hillside gardens, but waiting in the shady gardens adjacent to the waterfront seemed like a better idea.

Clare then had a swim in the roof-top pool, while I attempted to take photos of big gray and black backed gulls cruising the thermals all around us, but without much success as the sun got in the way of the best shots. We dined on the outdoor terrace of the Parador restaurant, using the Spanish menu and as much Spanish as we could, and the waitress joined in with good humour. It slightly backfired however as I ended up with a beef steak instead of the pork steak I was hoping for, but the roasted green peppers which went with it made it tolerable, along with a very nice red Rioja. Down below at city street level, we could see there was a horse riding in the ring of the town's Plaza de Toros. Music and applause drifted up on the evening breeze, and a succession of diners edged their ways past our table to get the best place to take a photo. I'd not taken my camera along to dinner, wanting to be free to savour the romance of the moment and the company.

The Parador experience is consistently good, and the settings most varied. Staff work very hard, but seem to enjoy what they do. One thing surprised me however, the hotel wifi was unsecured, and no registration was required. It was certainly convenient, but what of the risk of hacking or unsavoury abuse of the system? All I can conclude is that any device logging on is going to be traceable. The bookng system will in any case have the registered email address of service purchacer, and maybe it's all that's needed in the event of mischief. Maybe there's been a change of policy. I recall needing a wi-fi password when we stayed in Ronda Parador last year.

   

Alcazaba

As the weather had taken a turn for the better, providing a blue sky mild sunny day, I took the train into Malaga at the end of the morning for some more sightseeing. I made my way through the old town to visit the Roman amphitheatre and the Alcazaba Palace, both of which I missed out on in my visit last November. 

There's a stylish new interpretation centre at one end giving easy access to the site for people on wheels, both at the lower and upper viewing levels. Impressive, also free entry!

The Alcazaba Palace dates from the time of the Moors, and is built into the hillside adjacent to the old town centre, with the Gibralfaro fortress on top of the hill above it.

Whilst it's not as large or majestic as the Alhambra Palace in Granada, it has many of the same environmental features - views out over the city, simple but elegant gateways, courtyard gardens, and running water at every level, pleasing the ear as well as the eye.

It's a place of tranquility and beauty, with a variety of beautiful ornate archways, tiled friezes and ceilings 

Best of all, as a pensioner, I paid just 60 centesimos for admission!

It's the kind of place worth re-visiting for a couple of relaxing hours with a picnic, as it contrasts so happily with the noise and bustle of the streets, crowded with people eating lunch outdoors even in mid winter.

On the way to Alcazaba I discovered a small plaza in which there was a traditional Adalusian courtyard building resembling an urban convent, but advertising itself as dedicated to the work of the Order of Hospitallers of St John of God.

In modern jargon it's a church social services centre, offering family care, crisis counselling, showers and clean clothes distribution. According to the banner on the building facade, recently a big group of martyrs belonging to the Order were beatified in Tarragona Cathedral in Catalunya.

I looked up St John of God and the Order when I got back to Fuengirola, and discovered a fragment of Christian history of which I was previously unaware. John of God died in 1550. His story is remarkable. He was born in Portugal, abducted from home at the age of eight, then abandoned, and lived by his wits until he was taken in by a Spanish farmer. In his late teens he became a soldier, and remained so until he was converted while he was in Granada in his forties. His vocation was to care for the sick and the poor and he established hospices in which this ministry could be exercised. After his death the Order was formed by people inspired by his example and since then its activities have multiplied and spread all over the world. 

The group of martyrs seventy one members of the Hospitaller community were all murdered during the Spanish Civil War. There's a church nearby which is dedicated to their memory. At this stage in my discovery I don't even know which side in the conflict made them victims, Republican or Royalist. It hardly matters, because their community's priorities are unequivocally clear - caring for the poor and suffering. Whoever shoots the gun at, or strings up the noose on such as these is pretty sick in soul and spirit, however they seek to justify their action. There's no way back to healing and reconciliation however, unless their courageous faith in times of conflict is honoured by all.

On my way back to the RENFE station, I hunted for the indoor Mercado Atarazanas, which I discovered back in November, hoping to re-acquaint myself with the delicious empañadas sold on a bakery stall therein. I couldn't recall how I'd reached it. I could navigate back to the station without a street map, but had no idea how to locate the market in relation to the station. Just after I'd given up looking, I caught sight of the distinctive Moorish ironwork decorative design covering the market exterior, and got to the stall in time to buy the last empañada on display. Next time I'll remember how near the market is to the arroyo close to the station. There are photos of Alcazaba and some other places of interest here.