Malaga – ARKS, ADAM AND AXARQUIA

AND OTHER INTERESTING THINGS ABOUT MY WIFE’S NAME

Many winters ago, Dido and I found ourselves sheltering from a -10°c Prague night in a cozy, smokey jazz club just off Wenceslas Square. The place was full and we had to share a table with a Viennese couple who fortunately turned out to be more interesting than the hapless wannabe Charlie Parker murdering his sax on the stage.

The fact that the couple were a similar age to ourselves, and both handsome and charming, with perfect English was pleasant enough, but it was when we exchanged names that we all almost fell off our seats. We introduced ourselves first with the customary, “I’m Dido”, “and I’m Adam”, to which they replied through wide-eyed grins, “and I’m Eve”, and after a short dramatic pause, “and I’m Aeneas…”

*A Phoenician ivory of a noblewoman looking over a balcony from Sidon, very close in date to the historical Queen Elissa / Dido*

Not only was this a delightful and highly amusing coincidence (it was the only time we ever joked with another couple about the concept of partner swapping – purely in the interests of onomastic correction of course!!) it was also the diametric opposite to the normal response of people upon first hearing Dido’s name.

For one glorious instance no explanations were required, nor any brief lessons in classical mythology and ancient history, nor having to smile away the increasingly tedious “Ah! Like the singer?” (actually born Florian Cloud de Bounevialle Armstrong eleven years after “my” Dido). Instead, just an interesting exchange about why Aeneas, and why Dido: The former, it transpired, because his father was a classics professor in Vienna who specialized in the Roman poet Virgil, and the latter; because her parents had been expecting a boy (long before the days of ultrasound), they had no girl’s name prepared. As they were listening to Henry Purcell’s opera, Dido and Aeneas when her mum’s water broke, the name seemed apposite.

I repeat this story here because it is sweet and pleasant to recollect, but also to hopefully encourage all our friends and acquaintance, past, present and future, who may be ignorant of the facts behind the name to take five minutes and click on this link to learn about Dido (mythic and historic). It’s not only informative, it’s also genuinely fascinating with contemporary resonance (like much myth and history).

For instance, how many of the people reading this, including my Spanish readers. know that the city of Malaga was founded by Queen Dido’s Phoenician compatriots (and probable subjects) about 2,800 years ago as Málaka (the same time as the founding of Carthage itself). Phoenician was a Semitic sister language of ancient Hebrew, with many close similarities (see this earlier post). Málaka could mean a place where fish was preserved in salt , or it could have something to do with “sailors”. However, given that the Phoenician for queen, is Malgah/Malkah, a more likely meaning is the Queen’s city. And if so, the most likely queen to have a new colony dedicated to her by Phoenician settlers would be their-then queen and sponsor, Dido (more properly, Elissa in her Phoenician form).

In other words, it is quite possible, that my wife Dido, has a home in the province titled for her ancient namesake, and I at least, find that possibility pretty damn cool.

*Modern day Malaga, some 2800 years after its founding by Phoenicians, who knew a good harbour when they saw one.*

a postcard from a normal day in malaga…

Whenever people ask us about our commercial crops on our little Andalusian farm, we always mention olives and our almonds. Grapes were once a commercial crop for us – in the form of our Malaga-style wine – but that was many years ago. And, while it’s true we also once sold a bushel of pink grapefruit to a greengrocer in our local village, the only other crop we ever used to sell regularly was carob (algaroba in Spanish). Known as boxer in Britain, carob was best known as a chocolate substitute, especially during wartime, when supplies of the real stuff were sparse, and these days, it’s popular as candy (in the States), ground for flour, eaten as a dried fruit and made into syrups and even alcoholic drinks. But, in the 90’s it’s popularity seriously waned, and the price for the brown pods and seeds fell so low, it cost us more in diesel to get the carob to the factory than we got paid for it.

However, the emergence of veganism has seen a massive spike in the demand for carob, and a corresponding rise in its value, making it a worthwhile crop once again. And, in the event we were paid a handsome €60.00 for our modest three sacks, giving us in turn, a pleasant excuse to continue along the road, to spend our earnings – somewhat ironically – on some delicious, decidedly non-vegan Malagueño cuisine…

Adding our 50kilos (highlighted) to the mountain of carob at our local depot/factory.

Then off to Malaga to spend our not-so-hard earned pocket money – firstly on these delicious caracoles (snails) in a spicy, cumin-infused sauce (a recipe from Córdoba)...

…Then down to the beach, for a few espetos (wooden skewers) of sardines , roast against smouldering olive wood. This shot, taken through a Perspex windshield, gives the scene a slightly wobbly look!