Postcard from Malaga, Spain: High season for spotlighting cemeteries

In Memory of Julia and William, Twin Children of James and Ann Simpson, Born at Malaga, October 17, 1859. Died. Julia December 3, 1859. William September 6, 1860. No sin. No sorrow. No complaints our pleasure here destroy. We live with God and all his saints….

Body disposal for non-Catholics in Malaga in the 19th century was a problem. Interment of Protestants was not permitted in the existing graveyards. By law, non-Catholics could only be buried during the night on the beach in a non-restful upright position, hardly comforting to relatives left behind to envision them exposed by tidal fluctuations, easy prey for soothing the hunger pangs of dogs on the prowl.

In 1829, the British Consul succeeded in gaining permission for a cemetery for Protestants on land that was then on the outskirts of town – the first Protestant cemetery in all of Spain.

Among its early residents was Robert Boyd, an Irish-American. Boyd came under the influence of Jose Maria Torrijos y Uriarte (1791-1831), and it is no coincidence they died on the same date. Following his exile in England, Torrijos launched a group of 60 liberals from Gibraltar to deliver a manifesto supporting the constitution of 1812 in opposition to the absolute monarchist Ferdinand VII (1784-1833).

The idealists thought they would land to spread the words that would immediately inspire an uprising. Unfortunately, the king’s men were expecting them. Forty-nine men were executed on San Andres Beach of Malaga. Forty-eight of the men regarded as heroes after the unpopular King Ferdinand VII’s death were interred under a landmark obelisk in the middle of Plaza Merced. Boyd, the Protestant, instead was bound for Cementerio Ingles.

Eight crew members of the SMS Gneisenau found permanent harbor there in December 1900. The Bismarck-class corvette of the German Imperial Navy had full sails to supplement its steam engines and bore a battery of 14 15-centimeter guns, all of which were useless when a fierce storm drove the ship into a stone breakwater at Malaga.

The nonprofit operating the English Cemetery struggles to maintain it. Much of the small graveyard is crumbling. It is far from the elevated aristocratic monumental cemeteries Protestant dead luxuriate in elsewhere in Europe.

But I’ll leave you with the words inscribed on my favorite headstone, that of Joseph Bertram Griffin (1920-1968), who died in Torremolinos. We think his wife, three children and little Zizi (a dog?) missed him, but the inscribed double negative made their feelings unclear. Typos carved in stone:

May God have your soul (in French).

Also with the love of your 3 children and your little Zizi which cannot never forget the wonderfull Daddy and for me husband you was.

Rest in peace. You too, Zizi, whatever and wherever you might be.

Postcard from Malaga, Spain: Joining the flock grazing through art at the Pompidou

Homage to Amnesty International

“Flock of Sheep,” Francois-Xavier Lalanne, 1965/1979, and “Model to the Third International,” a reconstruction of Vladimir Tatlin’s 1919-1920 monument made by Les Ateliers Longepe (Chatillon) in 1979 

The remodeled port area in Malaga is pristine. Probably particularly appealing to the crowds regurgitated from cruise ships who feel comforted by the familiar upscale chains that populate the waterfront mall.

Until 2015.

The City Council of Malaga took an incredibly bold step to enter into a contract with the Pompidou Center in Paris to open its first branch outside of France – Centre Pompidou Malaga. I have no idea whether the investment is paying off, but it’s a beautiful facility that mounts major exhibitions further enhancing Malaga’s strong reputation as a city of internationally important museums.

Of course, Malaga had a head start. It is the birthplace of Pablo Picasso (1881-1973). And you cannot take many steps through the city without bumping into a reminder of the fact.

The museum is reputed to often attract crowds packed like sardines in a tin (apologies to Frank Scurti’s sardine-tin bed above). But we totally lucked out on our timing. Could relax and graze slowly gazing at the art (apologies also to Francois-Xavier Lalanne’s “Flock of Sheep,” evidently possessing good taste).

Truly felt like visiting a miniature Parisian Pompidou. Except luxuriously private and intimate.

Postcard from Malaga, Spain: The Alcazaba and Castillo protected Malaga for centuries

The Teatro Romano at the base of the Alcazaba

Built in the 1st century BC during the reign of Emperor Augustus (63 BC-19 AD), the ruins of the Teatro Romano served as a convenient quarry for the Moorish fortress being constructed above in the 700s. Some of the amphitheatre’s columns and capitals were recycled and can be picked out in the Alcazaba.

As for the Teatro Romano, through the centuries it was filled with rubble and forgotten until “rediscovered” during a construction project in 1951. Excavation and restoration did not begin until 1995, and it reopened for outdoor performances in 2011.

Entrances to the Alcazaba were angled advantageously on the hillside to protect the Moorish fortress. Most of the Alcazaba’s remaining palatial structures were erected between the 11th and 14th centuries.

The security of the Alcazaba was eroded with the advent of artillery usage in warfare. So in the 14th century, Yusuf I (1318-1354) built a hilltop castle, Castillo de Gibralfaro, to protect Alcazaba down below.

The ascent to the castle was a climb. Upon arrival at the top, of course, we observed a shuttle bus that approached it from the other side. The climb did, however, make one appreciate its topographic advantage with commanding view on all sides, particularly of the harbor.

The descent was somewhat challenging as the soles of my shoes bore a seemingly impenetrable layer of wax from weeks of wandering around Andalusian streets coated in wax from candlelit Holy Week processions. It has taken several hundred more miles of walking to finally render the rubber soles safe again.

Following the expulsion of Moorish rulers in 1487, the Castillo remained a military garrison until 1925.