A Wine and Culture Day

We made a late start yesterday morning, with Owain needing to relax, and feeling the tiredness of a week's work plus Thursday's late evening arrival. It was gone midday when too the number 3 bus to the Alameda and set out to find the Museo de Vino, which we agreed would be less demanding of energy on travel to reach the bodega Hidalgo in Álora. I knew roughly where it was, having found the place on my exploratory wanderings early on in my stay this time, but couldn't quite recall the exact location, so we had to resort to Google Maps for the last two hundred metres.

On our way there, passing through Calle Pozos Dulces, we found open to visit the imposing chapel of the casa cofradia del Hermandad de la Santa Caridad de Nuestro Señor Jesucristo y Nuestra Señora de la Peña, built in 2008. It's in a quiet area slowly undergoing a mixture of restoration and redevelopment of its residential properties. This is the first and only time it's been open when I've passed by. The long title is a product of the adoption of a title belonging to an older but now defunct cofradia of Christ and a newer one of Nuestra Señora de la Peña, established in 1938. What makes this building special is the remarkable ceiling frescos, completed in 2014 by the Malagueño painter Raúl Berzosa Fernández.

And here's the rest of the chapel, dedicated to Our Lady, Queen and Mother.

The cofradia has 1200 members, and it's hard to estimate the investment of energy and finance into creating this traditional yet contemporary place of worship. Looking around the city, however, it's apparent that many of the casas cofradias are kept in good order, and others have also been built or rebuilt in recent decades. The church in Spain generally may have suffered decline as has occurred in many part of Western Europe, but there's still a vital core which not only meets religious need but also social need in local communities.

The small Plaza de los Viñeros we were looking for, is in La Goleta barrio, on the river bank side of via Carretera. The Plaza contains the casa cofradia de los Viñeros, dating back to 1605, the home of the Hermandad Sacramental de Viñeros. Not only is this one of the early Malagueño confraternities, but it was one founded by the producers of Malaga's world renowned and widely used communion wine. The museum opposite is housed in a building whose purpose was the regulation of standards for wine production. Whether this is still the case today I don't know.

We had just enough time to complete the tour before it closed for lunch at two, consisting of an exhibition of wine label art, and well designed information panels describing all aspects of wine production and the unique history and role of the diverse terrains in producing the array of sweet white through to dry red wines of Málaga Province, from the sierras to the coastal plain.

At the end of the tour there's the inevitable tourist shop, with a huge collection of the region's wines. Included in the ticket price are a couple of 'try before you buy' taster glasses. We came away with a red from the Sierras de Malága DOC region, around Ronda made of the Shyra grape (aka elsewhere Shiraz, Sirah). On our walk back to the apartment, we stopped at a bar in the Mercado Atarazanas for a beer and tapa of freshly cooked Boquerones a la Victoriana,  anchovies fried with a covering of

flour, like whitebait back home, but twice the size. I remember being introduced to this tasty snack when staying in Rincon de la Victoria eighteen months ago. It's the Victorianos local way of cooking what's caught there off-shore.

When we got back to the apartment, I had a siesta while Owain went for a swim. Then, early in the evening we walked to Chirunguito Tropicana at the edge of La Malagueta beach for a fish supper. This time we shared two espetos of fish barbecueued over a wood fire, Sardinas, and Jurelas, a name which translates into English as Horse Mackerel. They are slightly fatter and larger than sardinas, and look nothing like a baby mackerel, and taste much the same to me, smoky and over salted. I've had better, but Owain was happy enough, as this was an experience from last time that he wanted to repeat.

After dark, we headed out again into the Old Town, having been alerted to an event called La Noche Blanca 2018, when all the city's museums and art galleries remain open until the small hours, and an assortment of events happen on the street as well. There was a white painted, rather tinny sounding baby grand piano in the Plaza del Obispo in front of the Cathedral, being played by succession of people, but not exactly in concert performance. How players were selected wasn't evident, and most of what we heard over ten minutes was musical pastiche, but at least it was open air night music for an audience of passers-by, at a time when the city was particularly busy with hunters after free culture. 

We were both tired, too tired really to be out at midnight. Owain had hoped to hear more  free music performed, but we didn't track any down. Some venues had queues outside waiting to get in, with people clutching free tickets acquired from goodness knows where, perhaps the tourist office or its website. We walked the streets for a while and enjoyed the night life, and as we headed back, we discovered there was no queue outside the Museo Revello de Toro, and we were able to talk straight in. It was busy in comparison to the day I last visited, but I was glad of the opportunity to introduce Owain to the work of another remarkable Malagueño artist who is not Picasso.

Another late night to bed, but thankfully a late Sunday start with a trip to Salinas for the Eucharist at midday.

   

A day of food and art

Needless to say, we rose and breakfasted late, after getting to bed at two thirty in the morning on Ascension night. Owain went for his first swim of the day, while I said Morning Prayer, and tidied up after breakfast. Then, we walked along the Paseo Maritime into the port to get to the Old Town, and made our way to Mercado Atarazanas where Owain was keen to stock up on olives stuffed with garlic, pickled sweet garlic and early season cherries, nibbles he loves.

Laden with bags of our special purchases, we crossed the road to 'La Martina Gastrotienda', a place whose website I found while looking for a local supplier of a red wine called 'Vega del Geva' from Álora, a town at the head of the Guadalhorce Valley to the west of Malaga. We discussed going to the bodega is there, not far from the terminus of the C2 metro. Reviewers have given this Sierras de Malaga DOC product the status of a Spanish 'Superwine', presumably ticking all the boxes on a sommelier's checklist, so it's something we were both determined to find and try.

Step one, identify the wine label on the Gastrotienda shelf, and check the price (€14). Step two, take a look in an assortment of small delis across town to see if they stock it. Step three, compare prices. There were two shops at the top end of Calle Granada which had it in the window at about €10, and at Crespillo Innova deli in nearby Calle Cervantes €11 where eventually for convenience we bought a bottle. Apparently it's €9 in the Álora Mercadona.

Even so, La Martina Gastrotienda is an Aladdin's cave of cold meats, pates and local cheeses, and it offers each weekday a different gourmet sample and a beer for €5, so we stopped here and ate cold roast pork, thinly sliced, to sustain us before heading for the Museo Carmen Thyssen, to see both the permanent collection and temporary 'Mediterraneo' exhibitions, which Clare and I saw last month.

The permanent collection is two floors of mainly Spanish 17-19th century paintings in different styles, plus a small collection of sacred art from 14-18th century, and a temporary exhibition of the engravings of Gustav Doré. Just as Doré's Spanish engravings are documentary in character, so the paintings exhibited give an accurate and vivid account of Andalusian life and culture in that era. It took us a couple of hours to see everything, and we were grateful for a coffee in the café afterwards, before heading back to the apartment for Owain to take his second swim of the day, followed by a bowl of the cazuelo I'd prepared earlier. 

Hearing the sound of fiesta music somewhere in the barrio, we ventured out again at half past ten and found that the local casa cofradia del Descendimiento was open for a social event in the same way that the casa cofradia de los Estudiantes was partying last weekend. The crowd of revellers was not as big, but the same mix of ages, with a bar set up in the place where the trona Clare and I saw carried on Good Friday is stored.

We then walked down to the port, bought an ice cream, and went to Muello Uno. There was nothing happening there, as Artsenal was closed. Not surprisingly, as it's still quite cool at night which tends to drive people indoors earlier, and then most of the beach restaurants close.

The space on the quay occupied with retail stalls in wooden huts for six weeks from Easter was cleared the week before last, to make room for a succession of one off events. Tonight it hosts a quite mysterious installation, consisting of a long scaffolding framework holding a rainbow array of veils, forming a long pleasingly colourful corridor, either to walk through or look at. It's unclear.

A work in progress tonight, for sure, and it's associated with the media hashtag #ladamadeaciero - the Lady of Steel (not quite the Iron Lady), but quite why this is so, it's impossible to say. Maybe tomorrow we'll find out.

Old town shopping expedition

We were half a dozen for Wednesday morning's midweek Eucharist at St George's, thanks to Clare being there and two passing visitors. We did some food shopping in Mercadona afterwards, then walked into the Old Town via the pedestrian tunnel which takes you to the Plaza de la Merced. This was basically a general briefing for Clare on what there is to see, and where the main streets are. It was also an opportunity for her to get used to walking about in the heat, although today hasn't been as hot as it was in my first month here.

After an hour or so of walking around, we returned to the apartment for lunch and a siesta, before another evening swim for Clare. I noticed an ocean-going rowing eight with cox and trainer on board a kilometre offshore, and wondered if it was the same crew I watched from the headland at Rincon de la Victoria last autumn. Then, after supper, a walk in the dark along the Paseo Maritime, before early bed for both of us.

Today it was overcast, relatively cool, though humid, and it spitted a little rain. It's the first day of its kind since I arrived here. Much refreshed by a good night's sleep, we went into the Old Town to look around the wonderful Mercado de Atarazanas, such a special place celebrating the rich beauty and variety of Andalusia's fresh food products, proudly displayed, and by some amazing characters among the traders. We bought marinaded Rosada pescado to cook for lunch, and half a kilo of fresh strawberries. Next time we'll return to get freshly caught fish, once we can decide which variety to buy!

Clare was pleased to find a small lightweight hair dryer at a bargain price in Chinese supermercado next to Atarazanas, and I found a wire basket which could be used for vegetable steaming. The flat is quite well equipped, considering that it's only a few months since it was re-claimed for use as a chaplain's apartment. Each occupant has their own minor equipment requirements, as well as food preferences to suit their way of life. Meeting these needs is part of the pleasure of sojourning in a new place.

We also walked across the 'German' footbridge over the rio Guadalmedina to reach El Corte Inglez, so that Clare could inspect special offers in the summer sale. She travelled light, hoping to find some lightweight clothes for the extreme heat which are not so easy to find in the UK, but there was nothing of interest. Organisation of the clothes layout for the summer sale reminded her of a jumble sale, she said. We had an over priced drink in the top floor cafeteria, then walked slowly back across the Old Town to the apartment to cook and eat half the Rosada pescado from the market for lunch. We now have a better idea of how little cooking it actually needs, for next time.

Once again, a siesta, a swim for Clare, an evening walk into the port after supper, just as the huge Valetta registered TUI Discovery cruise ship was going to sea from terminal one. Several new ships have docked in recent days. Large private luxury motor yachts, a much smaller cruise ship to carry a couple of hundred rather than thousands of passengers, a large bulk carrier, a vehicle transport ship. Proximity to North Africa makes Malaga quite a busy port, for both commerce and leisure. I find it fascinating to observe, and try to understand.

    

Malaga on foot III

I took the bus to Malaga today, fully intent on taking a ride on the Cercania 2 metro line, to Alora, up the Guadalhorce valley past Cartama.  As I waited at the nearest stop, first a MAPFRE branded maintenance van parked on the zig zag yellow lined exclusion zone for all but buses. No sooner than this went away an armoured cash in transit van occupied the same space, and two security personnel took several bags of money, into the Santander premises twenty metres away. It remained until five minutes after the bus arrived.

The bus had to park at an angle in the remainder of the space, and this was fine for the two dozen passengers getting on, except one. A woman with crutches and a small mobility scooter, of a size that could be taken on the bus if it had not been parked away from the kerb. The driver was patient and understanding. She honked the horn and only after several minutes more did the cash men emerge and depart, so that the bus could reposition itself for the lady to get on. Nobody on board seemed bothered by the delay. Kindness prevails thankfully.

Incidents like this can be an everyday occurrence wherever wheel chairs and mobility scooters are used. Urban bus stops are planned with access for disabled people in mind. It simply isn't fair that gun toting civilians with bags of cash, in armoured vans are not required to think twice before obstructing a stop. There is no reason why everyday secure route planning for deliveries shouldn't take this into account, rather than disrupt other people's travel, and make it difficult for a disabled traveller to be accommodated without causing needless embarrassment. No cash truck should ever be allowed to presume the privileges that all would naturally accord to an emergency services vehicle. But money influences how everyone behaves one way or another.

I went from the last bus stop in town to Maria Zambrano station, checked the Cercania timetable and realised I had forty minutes to wait. I walked over to the Larios shopping centre. It's huge and on three storeys with every posh designer brand imaginable selling their wares. I saw a demonstrator at a stall carefully flying a toy sized drone quadrocopter, making an effort to do so safely at a junction of the thoroughfare. Concentration immobilised her face in a stare. Her movements, such as they were, made her look robotic, drained of natural liveliness. Why are we doing these things to ourselves? I wondered.

The shopping centre is so big that I became disoriented and exited on the opposite side of the building. Then I had lost sight of the railway station, and by the time I had discovered where I was, there was not enough time to catch the train. Ah well, another couple of hours on foot in Malaga finding new places would do instead.

I walked back to the old town's Atarazanas market, busy with stall holders and others chatting animatedly, eating and drinking after the majority had ceased trading for the day. A marvellous buzz of conviviality around the bars and eateries open. I settled for a tuna and tomato empanadilla from a stall I've bought from before. Delicious.

From there, I wove me way through a collection of narrow streets with shops at the base of five storey buildings in a rich mix of decorative styles. I discovered a Parish Church dedicated to St John Baptist dating from the 1487 reconquista of Malaga, but rebuilt after the 17th century earthquake. It has a tall brick tower, and it's such a surprise to round a street corner and see a few hundred yards away down a winding narrow street this tall edifice illuminated by the afternoon sun.

A curious feature of this church is to be seen on the west wall of the church adjacent to the porch. Five differently coloured hemispheres, each about the size of a cannon ball arranged in a cruciform pattern. No single explanation for this has gained currency, but the symbol is found in Aztec and in far Eastern cultures. There's an interesting article about it here.

A few blocks away, I found another large brick built church in a narrow street. A walk around the block revealed this to be part of a large school complex behind the shops and apartments, a religious community foundation no doubt at least once upon a time, but how old it's hard to tell. Neither church was open during siesta. The Cathedral can be visited 10.00 till 20.00 (€5.00) and a nearby church is open for perpetual adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. Others open for morning and evening Masses for the most part. A really good church crawl would rely on being out and about early or late, rather than during the day. Maybe another time.

Another good city walkabout, then back on the bus to Rincon by five, to purchase some frozen fish to see me through the weekend and my last few evening meals before heading back home to Cardiff.

   

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.

 

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.