The Mystery of the Bagpipes That Play Every Sunday on a Hill in Benalmádena

Carlos Zamarriego

I found out there's a place in Benalmádena, a small green hill similar to the Highlands, where a Scot has been playing the bagpipes every Sunday for 20 years. So, one Sunday I show up there, next to Arroyo Hondo avenue, with the International Cemetery on one side and views of the Mediterranean on the other, minutes before 11, waiting to meet him. On a wooden bench, Beli, a friend and percussionist in his band, also waits and tells me: "He's quite a character. And he has a big heart..."

"My surname is Thomson and it's without a 'p'," Leslie warns me when he arrives a few minutes later with a large case in his arm, "not like Thompson and Williams, there are more Thomsons without a 'p' than with, but most people write it with a 'p'." At 73, he has gray hair, a calm look, and offers a friendly smile. And, first surprise, an Argentine accent. "My maternal grandparents emigrated to Buenos Aires to electrify the railway. And on my father's side to Ushuaia to bring Berlin Angus," the famous cattle breed.

But make no mistake, Leslie Thomson is and feels thoroughly Scottish, "I have eight Scottish surnames." His father, born in Argentina, was sent to study in Scotland and fought in World War II with the British army. "When he returned from the war, he stayed to live in Buenos Aires. That was when he met my mother." Although born in the Argentine capital in 1953, Thomson says he did not speak Spanish until he was five years old. "At home, we always spoke English. That was my first language." A language that would soon be joined by another: music.

He plays in this spot next to the cemetery so as not to disturb his neighbors. "The dead never complain," he jokes.

"A famous Scottish bagpiper used to say that the bagpipe, more than an instrument, is like the symbolic and musical representation of the Scottish spirit," explains Thomson, recalling his beginnings with the instrument. "The first time I heard a bagpipe I was about eight years old. I have no ear for music, I'm terrible, even worse at singing, but as soon as I heard the bagpipe I said, 'this is for me'. It's like a call of the race, so to speak, that comes through the blood."

So, when in 1990 he emigrated to Benalmádena with his family, the Scottish bagpipe flew with them. "I believe those of us with Scottish blood are natural emigrants. Going to another place is always an adventure." And he finds he is the only bagpiper on the Costa del Sol. "When there are events like Burns Night, an important part is having a bagpiper. As soon as they found out I was here, everyone who organized these events started to plan them around my availability."

The Spirit of William Wallace

Thomson says that the bagpipe is not an instrument that makes his neighbors happy, so he had to find a place to practice. While working for a funeral home at the international cemetery in Benalmádena, he noticed a small piece of land next to the road, with no houses nearby. "The closest neighbors, my clients, weren't going to complain," he jokes, "the dead never complain." And he began to go there every week for the last 20 years, letting the sounds of the pipes connected to the bag of the bagpipe fly every Sunday through the Benalmádena hills as if calling the spirit of William Wallace. "Some people stop and leave me a couple of euros for a coffee," he says amused, "and for me, it's a compliment, they're showing their appreciation for something they've enjoyed, right?"

So much so that the neighbors already know this place, Thomson points out, as 'the piper's hill'. "The other day a friend was looking for me and couldn't remember how to get here, so he calls me on the phone from the gas station and says, 'hey, look, what's the name of the park where you are?'. And I answer: 'I don't know the official name, I call it the piper's hill'. And I hear a voice in the background saying: 'ah, where Leslie practices?'"

In 2019, Thomson took a further step and created his own Scottish bagpipe band, Sur Pipes Band. "It was never in my plans. That is, it's people who approached me," he confesses. Scots? "No, no, the strange thing is that there are Scots." And it's that in the band, Spaniards, Russians, Uruguayans, Welsh, or Germans coincide. Everyone wears the famous Scottish tartan fabric kilt to cheer from St. Patrick's Day to Douglas' Days in Teba. Another band member who has come to practice approaches. Beli already has the drum ready. Thomson takes out his Scottish bagpipe from a huge case, which he assembles delicately. It's time for the music to speak. As I walk away, on the piper's hill, 'Scotland the Brave' can be heard.

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• Benalmádena
• Costa del Sol
• Music