Pepito the Little Perote Sparrow, Chickens, Cheeses and Characters.

Yippee! We're off to Álora tomorrow. I've given the Ryanair website my best shot. I've printed off the boarding passes and everything is spelt correctly (I double-double checked). I've  avoided paying for a seat on the plane, priority boarding, insurance, extra bags, a hire car, a hotel and refused the invitation to sign an anti-trade union petition( Stop the Strikes. Sign now!). I would have been happy to pay a couple of euros for a little net on the back of the seat in front to hold  my book and sandwiches but that wasn't an option. They will have to rest on my knee along with my bottle of vastly expensive spring water,(at £1.50 a litre it's much dearer than petrol), a sheaf of crossword puzzles, my iPod and Mrs. Sanchez's Hello! magazine. Mind you, where could you buy a bottle of petrol in Birmingham International Airport?
I  don't find a trip on an aeroplane half as much fun as it used to be. Everyone says that the meals you got in the old days were rubbish but I liked them.

                                                      Mmmmmmmmmm.

I don't expect Álora will have changed much apart from having a big Santander Bank plonked in the Fuentearriba. The earthquake which shook the town a bit a couple of weeks ago didn't cause any damage as far as I know. Our back wall would be the first to go if a terremoto struck. We'll find out tomorrow.

I'm happy and relieved to report that Desirée Cortés has reappeared on Ayuntamiento photo shots. Here she is during the 'Carnaval' events yesterday (trust me to miss all the fun). I was going to quip something about her frightening the children but there's something about the sprog on the right (La Reina de Corazones/ The Queen of Hearts) which is more than a little disturbing. (She won the first prize in the children's section).  Desireé ,Councillor in Charge of Fiestas (parties and holidays) is on the left, beaming.

Our distinguished Alcalde Jose Sánchez Moreno (no relation) seems to be managing without his crutches now. I must remember to ask him what that was all about when I see him tomorrow.
 I thought Mardi Gras was supposed to be on a Tuesday, like its originator, Pancake Tuesday. They call it 'Carnaval' in Spain and the French don't even have a word for it. Anyway, we missed it and everybody seems to have had a good time.

The Fuentearriba  (top square) was packed with fun loving fiesta-goers all day.

 To be continued from sunny Spain.......

Álora. Thursday..............
It's raining. Mrs. Sánchez and I are happy about this because it's 'good for the olives'.
We were a little late (1 hour) arriving at Málaga (no fanfare from Ryanair this time). Here's why.
The 'Priority Boarding' queue had just made it past the boarding gate and into the draughty corridor (storm 'Imogen' was in full blow)  when it was discovered that our plane was not certified to carry the enormous weight of passengers and baggage about to board it. Luckily Ryanair found us another plane pretty smartish (they have them parked all over the place, just in case there's a 'Weightwatchers' hen party booked in). It took  a bit of time to swop the planes  over and reload the bags, but in my opinion that's a small price to pay for the confidence that your plane might  get off the ground. 

After a struggle with a violent sociopath/employee at the Niza (a misspelling if ever I saw one) car hire office, off we headed to The 'Valle del Sol'.

The new Santander bank which used to be Cafe Central isn't open yet. The sunny doorway has been occupied by Francisco, a colourful local character who is paid by the ayuntamiento to stroll around town wth a sprig of rosemary in his top pocket, posing for photographs and looking colourful.

                                                   Francisco (looking colourful)

 After checking that Francisco ('Don't call me Paco') was alive and well I headed for the Barbería Hermanos Cid for a  long overdue corte de pelo (haircut)
The brothers Paco and Pepe Cid spotted me 100 metres away and welcomed me back like an old friend. You won't get a better haircut anywhere in Spain. You get the full works here. They even cut the hairs in your ears and nose and trim your eyebrows. 
A haircut here can take anything between 15 minutes and half an hour depending on Pepe or Paco's interest  in the discussions and arguments that go on all the time in their shop doorway. Paco or Pepe (I can never remember who is which) can  be in full slash with the cut-throat  when  called to adjudicate in a heated dispute. All this for 8€ plus tip.


                                                  Barbería  Hermanos Cid 

 We bumped into our much loved alcalde (mayor) Jose Sánchez Moreno (Call me 'Epi') (no relation) in Casa Abilio last night. He came over to say 'Holá'. I told him I was very pleased to see him without the muletas (crutches) and asked if he had sustained the injury whilst playing football. This tickled him no end and he confided in me that he had sprained an ankle whilst chasing his wife or running away from her or away from a woman or chasing a woman (mujer means wife AND woman). I really must get down to some serious Spanish revision.

 

        Jose Sánchez Moreno (Epi) and others  presenting the Chicken Show poster.

 We may have missed Carnaval but we are just in time for the 1X Exposición de Gallinas Andaluzas Sureñas ( Ninth Exhibition of South Andalusian Chickens). Here is Epi presenting the poster for this ever popular show. There wll be  400 examples  of these fine birds on show and there are prizes for the best plumage etc. I wish every bird the best of cluck.

Incredible but true!  At the same time and in the same building we also have the annual Mercado del Queso Tradicional Andalus (Local Cheese Fair). What a double treat! Chickens and Cheeses.
(I'm thinking 'Chicken Kiev').
 

                                                          A double delight.

Rain was forecast yesterday so off we went with Graham and Mary to visit one of Málaga's many museums. We were headed for the Museo Interactivo de la Música which seemed as good a place as any to spend a wet afternoon. 
As it turned out the sun was shining as we emerged from Central Station so  we went for a coffee and replanned the day. Shopping for Mary and Mrs. S. and a few beers at La Cueva for Graham and me. 
La Cueva is not the most atmospheric of Málaga bars but they do give you a free selection of pork products to nibble at (served on a sheet of greaseproof paper) whilst knocking back a few Alhambra beers and fighting off beggars and lottery ticket sellers. 'The ladies' appeared after an hour or so which meant more beer and more chacina. That was when the sound of a flamenco guitar approached. 'Here come the buskers!' we groaned. A familiar diminutive figure then came into view. It was Pepito el Gorrión and his guitar accompanist.

                                                           Pepito El Gorrión



Pepito is from Álora and sings flamenco and he's not bad at it either and he dances too. He used to be a familiar sight in the 'old quarter' of Málaga but I hadn't seen him for a few years. I presumed he had gone to the great peña flamenca in the sky but no! I was so pleased to see him I gave him all my loose change. In return he pretended he knew me, which impressed Graham and Mary no end, and sang me a song about meeting an old friend. What fun!

The rest of the day was a blur. What a great place Málaga is. 

Juanito Sánchez
February 12th. 2016