What would you be willing to do for love? Would you die? Would you give your body and soul? Would you hang from a tower to write the name of your beloved? That’s what José Carlos Selva must have thought when, in 1993, he decided that a bouquet of flowers was not enough.
At 15 years old, following a teenage argument with his girlfriend, Mónica Vallejo, he climbed the 96 metres of the chimney of the old lead factory in Los Guindos, an industrial relic in Málaga visible from the entire bay of Boquerón, to paint in large white letters a name that marked the city: Mónica.
This graffiti turned the structure into what the locals referred to as Torre Mónica, an urban legend that, three decades later, remains alive over two thousand kilometres away, in the south of Tenerife. There, in San Isidro, the couple settled, married, and raised three Canary Island children. From Granadilla de Abona, they have confirmed that Málaga’s memory does not fade, while they gaze at the Montaña Roja and compare the beach that witnessed their love, La Misericordia, with that of El Médano, where their daily lives are now written.
This tale originated from a fight “typical of that age,” they both recall. “I don’t know if we had broken up, but she was very angry,” Mónica admits.
José Carlos, a lover of extreme sports, sought to reconcile in a grand way. “The graffiti took me four hours; I was going to make it bigger. It was an act of love,” he describes.
After finishing his masterpiece, he went to pick up his partner. “She looked at it with indifference and nodded, as if I had put anything in front of her,” they now laugh.
As a result of this youthful story, the entire city renamed the chimney Torre Mónica, turning it into a local icon, part of Boquerón’s identity.
The romance with the tower of Los Guindos took a turn when the historic mayor, Francisco de la Torre, announced plans for its restoration. “It was said that those two kids wouldn’t be together anymore,” Mónica recalls. She herself dispelled the rumours on social media: “I am the real Mónica, the author was my husband… and we are still married.”
Since then, the couple has recounted their story to media and friends time and again, increasingly amazed by the echo that gesture, as reckless as it was filled with adrenaline, has become their most treasured memory as a couple.
In 2000, they decided to turn their lives around. They moved to Granadilla de Abona. It was their way of gaining independence together. Later, they got married. “There (in their hometown) there were jobs, but they were poorly paid. Here, with one job, it was like having two back there,” José Carlos explains.
In the Islands, they have put down roots, where their three children were born: Yeray, Carlos Airam, and Yaiza. “It’s a paradise. We don’t want to move,” he assures.
Eventually, the tower was restored, and the graffiti was erased. The Málaga City Council allocated over 500,000 euros in 2007 for the rehabilitation of the chimney and its surroundings, returning it to its original appearance. The decision was not without controversy: a heated debate arose in the city weighing the preservation of industrial heritage against popular memory. “It made me very sad,” confesses Mónica.
A Declaration
On their last trip to their city, they went with Canary Island friends who doubted the famous story. To test the legend, they made a bet: they would pretend to be tourists and would ask several young people on the promenade:
“Would you be so kind as to tell me what that tower by the beach is called?”
The result was unanimous: ten out of ten identified it.
More than three decades have passed since that climb. The echo of what was the greatest declaration of love in the southern peninsula still resonates in the middle of the Atlantic.
