Understanding San Geraldo

This morning at breakfast, San Geraldo tried to tell me about a Youtube video he had just seen. Someone had done a selection of songs.

"You know the show," he said. "Oh! I'm drawing a blank."

I stared vacantly. He wasn't giving me much to go on.

"The Hermit in the Cathedral!" he exclaimed.

I tilted my head and looked at him. I knew there would be more.

He held his hand vertically in front of his face, thumb toward his nose, and sliced downward curving his hand in an "S" as he did so.

"The Phantom of the Opera?" I asked.

"That's it!"

"The Hermit in the Cathedral?" I questioned.

"Well, it was close."

"Yeah," I said, "You got the word 'The' right."

At that moment, Tynan came walking by. San Geraldo, who has no shame, told Tynan what he had just said.

Tynan thought a moment and commented,"Well, it does take place in a cathedral."

I looked at him askance, "Are you maybe thinking of 'Hunchback of Notre Dame'?"

Before turning to walk away, he smiled sheepishly and said,"Carry on."

SAN GERALDO ORIGINATING THE ROLE OF "'THE HERMIT" (IN THE CATHEDRAL).

Grandma and Grandpa Go to the Beach

I didn't know my paternal grandparents at all well. My grandmother died before my second birthday. I remember that she was very kind, but I was shy (believe it or not) and would hide behind my mother while being coaxed out with raspberry-filled hard candies (hard candies are what we New Yorkers called "sucking candies"). I only ever had those candies at my grandparents' house, and I loved them. Interestingly, that's one of my earliest memories.

Unlike my maternal grandparents, who had seven children over the course of 18 years (a total of 13 pregnancies, I think), my father's parents had only three children over the course of seven years. I think it gave them a bit more time for fun when they were young, because there are plenty of pictures of them at the beach or dressed for a costume party.

My mother gave me an old photo album that belonged to my father. The album contains loads of pictures from my father's teen and army years, as well as some photos of his parents. I found several photos taken at Coney Island some time around 1920, either before or right after my grandparents were married (but clearly before there were kids). They look a little wild. Obviously, my family has always liked the beach.

GRANDPA.

MY GRANDFATHER ON LEFT.

IN FRONT OF ONE OF CONEY ISLAND'S HISTORIC BATH HOUSES.

MY GRANDMOTHER ON LEFT.

This Seat Taken

It's tough living in paradise. I bruised my leg last week (and, par for my course, I have no idea how; it might have happened one of the 17 times I slammed my shin into the corner of the bed frame). My thigh and calf were very sore to the touch and my ankle was swollen. There were a couple of black and blue marks. It's almost completely better now, but I tried to give it a couple day's rest. I thought I'd sit on the terrace in the sunshine and read. Dudo and Moose had been relaxing outside for some time. They have both amazingly learned the rules of the terrace and they even come inside when called (well mostly). On this particular day, Dudo saw me aiming for the chaise in the sun and he raced me to it. I was in shorts, so he wouldn't sit on my lap (nor would I want him to). I asked him to move. He wouldn't. The lounge chair around the corner was in the shade. I was forced to go down to the beach. Favoring my leg as I was, I ended up bruising the ball of my foot. Like I said, it's tough living in paradise.

"WHERE ARE YOU GONNA SIT?"

THE SHADEY SIDE.

I WAS EVENTUALLY EXILED TO THE BEACH.
(CLICK TO SEE HOW I SUFFERED, BIG-TIME.)

"GOOD VIEW FROM HERE."

LOOKS LIKE HE PLANS TO BE THERE A WHILE.

FULL BODY TREATMENT.

CLEARLY SETTLING IN. NAP TIME.

"OH, ARE YOU STILL HERE?"

THE GQ POSE.

TRYING TO GET A LITTLE COLOR IN HIS CHEEKS.

THIS IS WHEN I GAVE UP.

The Bus Tour

I should have known something was wrong as I pointed out Fuengirola's castle to San Geraldo. We were on the bus returning from the big shopping mall in town. The castle had at first been in the distance and was suddenly on the hill directly above us. I've walked to the castle a couple of times and knew it was further from home than the shopping mall. Even San Geraldo, who had never seen the castle, knew we were supposed to be heading away from it.

We had taken public transportation to the mall. Bus Line #4. For our return, without thinking, we hopped on Bus Line #1. The woman in front of us overheard our conversation. She turned around and said, "Not to worry. It goes this way first and then loops back around." She got off the bus at the next stop.

The bus got on the highway and headed west along the coast for quite some distance. Then, we turned off the highway and into the foothills. And then we took a very winding road. Fortunately, we only wound around a couple of minutes — just long enough for us to both think about the motion-sickness pill San Geraldo would have taken had we known we were going on a bus tour. We returned to the highway and headed back along the coast to Fuengirola. It turns out we weren't much more than 5 km (3 miles) from town. We now know we can take either Bus Line #4 or #1 to the shopping mall. And we got to ride on "new road" (for us). Our great adventure.

Speaking of Beaches

San Geraldo and I went for a 4-km (2.5-mile) walk along the paseo yesterday afternoon. All along the way are beach clubs of sorts where you can rent a lounge chair and an umbrella. The staff usually speak multiple languages (at some level) to cater to the international tourists. The international tourists quite often haven't even attempted to learn to say "thank you" in Spanish. But that's another story. 

The clubs are all pleasant and some are a bit more elegant than others. There are little boardwalks placed on the sand, landscaped entrances, archways, "services" (aka, toilets), and several of the clubs actually smooth the sand every morning using what looks like a giant, wooden, toothless rake. I'm sure it has a name, but I don't know it. Besides, I like the natural look better.

NOTE THE SMOOTH FLAT SAND ON THE LEFT. 

The languages spoken vary. Spanish, of course, and English are the most common. But, quite often staff speak some Finnish, German, and French, among others, as you'll soon see. One of the places we passed yesterday was Playa Ronda Paco. A very nice-looking beach, and the staff apparently speak three languages.

THAT'S MORE THAN I CAN CLAIM.