Night music

I didn't sleep much. Clare's alarm went off well before mine, so I cancelled it. We left the apartment to retrieve the car from the cemetery at four fifteen, and by twenty to five, after driving through empty streets with most traffic lights showing green, we were hastily kissing goodbye, whilst coping with new drop off parking arrangements I wasn't prepared for. 

Very short stay cars must now take a ticket and get corralled into the multi storey parking complex, level with the departure hall, and you get fifteen minutes for free, though the system isn't clear as to whether you must validate your ticket before leaving within the free time, as you must when you need to pay. I was able to drop Clare off as close as possible to the entry where Terminals Two and Three meet. This is convenient, as Vueling check-in desks are opposite this entrance. She had all the time to spare she needed, and texted me progress reports until she arrived in Cardiff.

As I drove back, still two hours before dawn, the new moon was rising over the horizon, an orange sliver of light in dust laden darkness, hanging above the Avenida de Andalusia as I drove eastwards back into the city centre. A wondrous sight. I went back to bed and made up some of the sleep I'd lost, though not enough, and passed the day pottering about until it was cool enough in the evening to do some food shopping, and then go far a stroll along the Palmeria de las Sopresas.

A bassist and a singing electric guitar player were busking at the start of the open air sculpture display. I think they were singing in Portuguese. On the open air stage of the 'Artsenal' art-space, a jazz quartet was busy re-creating the music and ethos of Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grapelly in the 1930s Hot Club de Paris quintet. The violinist, apparently classically trained, learning how to swing, was using sheet music when she wasn't improvising. The two guitarists and bassist were using tablets showing chord sequences for tunes. It sounded pretty authentic, despite lacking the third guitarist. Each evening I go down there, something different is happening live. What a treat.
   

View from above

Looking out from the balcony window this morning, I could see market stalls being set up on the opposite side of the road on the tree covered pavement. When I went out to do the weekend grocery shopping I discovered it's a Bio market - organic farmers selling their produce direct to the public. There were mostly fruit and vegetable stalls, with one bread and one cheese and one herb stall, almost a dozen altogether. The Asociación Guadalhorce Ecológico promotes a weekly farmers' market in a variety of locations in and around Malaga, advertising through its own Facebook page. I do hope the market returns to La Malagueta again while Clare is with me. She'll love it.

After lunch and a siesta, I walked up the steep winding well appointed footpath which mounts the hillside behind the Paseo de Reding to the summit of the Gibralfaro. The views across the city and port are glorious, and the path is constantly busy with tourists taking selfies, or athletes testing their stamina. It's a tough climb, but one which I'll be repeating when I run out of new places to satiate my curiosity and my camera.

Having taken photos from on high, I then walked down to the port to visit a large cruise ship stopping here this weekend. It's the Silver Spirit, registered in Nassau in the Bahamas, according to the Maritime Traffic website. It's docked, not out at Terminals A or B, but in the prestigious quay nearest the city, along which runs the Palmeria de Sopresas, rows of Palm trees enclosing the main cruise ship reception centre, several restaurants and gardens. The quayside is enclosed by glass walls, allowing for non cruising visitors to stand and stare safely at this giant of a seven story hotel afloat. I don't think I've been this close to such a huge ship since I was a child and visited HMS Vanguard with my father.

Then, back to the apartment for another quiet evening, writing and uploading photos. I am learning that Google Photos, though not as versatile as using desktop Picasa then uploading to the web,  now works better than Google Chromebook's basic photo editing function. This is prone to crash while editing large pictures, perhaps because it's under powered or lacking in usable spare memory. I am impressed by the upload speed for the chaplain's broadband connection, far quicker than anything I am used to in other places, or at home. It actually makes using on-line apps a congenial experience. I'd still prefer using a device that wasn't so totally dependent on internet connectivity. I fear that we may live to regret this strategic decision taken by the tech giants on our behalf.