I Don't Know What To Say, The Monkey Won't Do

Our friend Miguel, from Sevilla, (click here if you don't know him) was in town this week and we had the pleasure of spending some time together. He arrived with gifts for Christmas, among which was a box filled with traditional pastries. The nuns at the convents bake these delicious pastries for Christmas every year.

You may have noticed that I said there "was" a box. Well, there still is a box; it's just no longer filled with pastries. It's a mystery what happened to them. San Geraldo only had one (really and truly).

MYSTERIOUSLY EMPTY NOW...

I have a problem with the Spanish word for nuns. It's easy to say, but I seem to have a mental block. I remember telling Miguel a while back about a "nona" in our neighborhood. Miguel's eyebrows went a little crooked. He had no idea what I was talking about. So, I clarified with "una hermana de la iglesia" (a sister of the church).

Miguel laughed and said, "Monja." (which sounds a bit like MOAN-ha)

So, here I am two years later telling Miguel how much I always love the Christmas goodies baked by the "monas."

And there again went Miguel's eyebrows.

I speak (somewhat) Castilian Spanish, which is the standard for much of the country.

— In Castilian Spanish, "mono" is monkey.

In Catalonia (northeastern Spain), Catalan Spanish is common and the co-official language of the region.

— In Catalan Spanish, "mona" is monkey.

No offense intended to the monjas. I'm so pleased Miguel finds me entertaining.

I then learned from Miguel all about "mona de pascua" (Easter cake), adorned with whole eggs. (Click here if you're interested in learning more about that tradition. Once there, click on the words "See the full transcript.")

FROM THE WEB: AN EXAMPLE OF MONA DE PASCUA.

Speaking of Eggs
Our visiting neighbors, Jean and Ray, bought a dozen eggs in the supermarket the other day. Jean wanted to cook up a traditional English breakfast to include bacon and fried eggs. She cracked the first egg over the bowl this morning. To her shock, it was hard-boiled.

So, Jean grabbed another egg. But it was also hard-boiled. It wasn't until she tried the sixth egg that she realized the entire carton was filled with hard-boiled eggs. (I would have been more surprised if that hadn't been the case.)

Anyway, it's something we noticed while living in Sevilla (but San Geraldo has since forgotten). You can buy cartons of pre-boiled eggs in the supermarket. Now that's my idea of cooking. (Too bad you still have to remove the shells.)


And back to the monkey...

The Sun's In My Heart

Today was a glorious day. Although, San Geraldo doesn't agree. He and I had an appointment at the bank this morning and then stopped at Cafe Manila for coffee and a visit with some of our favorite people.

It rained overnight, heavily at times, and was raining lightly when we made our way to the bank. The rain was a little steadier when we left the bank a half hour later. We arrived on the terrace (the covered terrace) at Cafe Manila just as a downpour began.

The mostly English patrons turned their chairs to face the seaside. I was told that's what English people do in England — sit in rows and stare at the sea. Or maybe they sit in rows and stare at the rain. As one man came in, he muttered, "Och! Tis lik Scootlund in Augist!"

Sae noo, click ony photie fur th' muckle picture...
Oh, sorry! So now, click any image for the big picture.

WET FACES (AND FEET) ON THE FRONTLINE.

OF COURSE SOME HARDCORE STICK-WALKERS WERE STILL AT IT.

Tynan snapped pictures of me as I snapped pictures.

No matter what San Geraldo says about the rain, from where I stand or sit, the sun is shining all over the place. Besides, he and I sang all the way home.

A Blank Page

On our morning visits to Cafe El 90, we had often noticed a man having coffee at a nearby table — sometimes alone and sometimes with one friend or another. After a few times, he and I began to bid each other a quick "buenos días." It took me months to introduce myself; my less-than-perfect Spanish sometimes holding me back. Finally last week, we (Javier and I) were able to meet for a cup of coffee and some conversation. Javier, it turns out, has been an art gallery manager and curator for much of his professional life.

In the 1980s Javier began to carry around a little red book that he'd share with his artist friends and acquaintances, telling them to  create a work of art on the next available page. The results are astounding. Watercolor, mixed media, collage, pen and ink, pencil, oils, acrylics.

THE BOTTOM BOOK AWAITS...

Javier is now well into Book #2. He only invites "artists" to participate, so I was honored when he showed me my page and told me to create. OK, I was also nervous. But I've unpacked my art supplies and I'm already finding inspiration. I look forward to sharing my creation with Javier and, of course, with you. In the meantime, below is a small sampling of the talented company I'll be keeping. (Click any image for a closer look.)

JAVIER OUT FOR A SPIN WITH "THE KIDS."

So now all I have to do is — according to Georges Seurat — "bring order to the whole. Through design, composition, tension, balance, light, and harmony."

Shoo Fly

San Geraldo made a new friend while I was away. Her name is Patricia (pronounced Pah-TREE-thee-ah in these parts) and she was introduced by our neighbors Ray and Jean one morning in the cafe downstairs.

EVEN THE BOOK SHE'S READING COLOR-COORDINATES.

Patricia is not shy by any stretch of the imagination — check out the printing on her tote bag in the picture above. She told San Geraldo she notices him regularly at the cafe and wonders why he sits with a dish towel on his head. (And here I thought it was because of his good looks.) San Geraldo explained that he sometimes wears a dish towel to protect his head from the sun, but mostly he wears the dish towel to keep away those annoying flies.

SAN GERALDO SETTING THE FASHION WORLD ABUZZ.
(CLICK ANY IMAGE FOR AN ELECTRIFYING EXPERIENCE.) 

This morning, Patricia dropped by the cafe with a gift for San Geraldo — an electrified tennis racket to zap flies and mosquitos. Apparently, dish towels — like square-check fabrics and skyscraper heels — are so last year.

ANXIOUS TO START ZAPPING.

MAYBE THE LAST FLY (FAR LEFT) DUDO WILL SEE.  WHEN THAT ELECTRIFIED
ZAPPER IS UNLEASHED, BOTH CATS WILL PROBABLY GO INTO HIDING

Shoo Fly

For Shoo-Fly Pie Recipe, click here.
For Apple Pan Dowdy, click here.

A Cup, A Cup, A Cup, A Cup, A Cup

When not sleeping off the jet-lag this week (successfully!!!), I've been busy catching up on reading my favorite blogs. Not much time left for my own photo-editing and writing, but I have managed to find time to go out every day for morning coffee with San Geraldo. I have so much more to share, but today I'll simply share my coffee. Here's a view from above (over several days). No fancy pouring. Just the natural beauty of cafe con leche (made by someone else).

(CLICK THE IMAGE FOR MORE FOAM — AND CAFFEINE.)

The Ink Spots knew what they were talking about...

Rocking The Waves

Jet lag is the pits. Jet-lag-and-clinical-depression is even pittier. Fortunately, I'm fully aware (sometimes) of what brings on a bout of depression, so I wasn't too worried about how miserable I felt this past week. I knew the jet lag would pass and I would be my usual (sometimes) happy and always (sometimes) charming self.

Despite the jet lag, etc., I've had a wonderful week with San Geraldo, Dudo, and Moose, and some of our amazing friends here in Fuengirola. As for San Geraldo, my heart overflows with love every time I look at him.

(Click any image to enlarge.)

SAN GERALDO'S ALL-AMERICAN/SPANISH APPLE PIE.

ALL GONE!

SAN GERALDO'S DEFINITION OF A "SLIVER" OF BANANA BREAD.

Moose greeted me lovingly, coming to the door and rolling over for some petting the minute I arrived home. Dudo gave me attitude. He was on the bed in the far bedroom and stayed there. He allowed me to pet him for a moment, ears pointed to the sides, brow furrowed, staring directly into my eyes. After that moment, he stood up, stuck his nose right into my face, glared into my eyes, jumped off the bed, and left the room!

A few minutes later, I began to unpack. I took a little package containing three toy mice from my suitcase. Dudo recognized the sound and came running. All was forgiven. When he's not on my lap or sleeping by my side, he's following me around the house with one of the mice in his mouth. He's so easy.

ON MY WALK WEDNESDAY.

The other night at dinner, San Geraldo was trying to explain to some friends how he tends to behave in difficult situations. "I don't like to rock the waves," he said.

Later, I explained to him, "You said you don't like to 'rock the waves' which means, I guess, that you don't like to 'make boat' either."*

Oh, how I missed him.

WEDNESDAY: A BOAT NEARING THE ROCKS.

THURSDAY: A BOAT ROCKING THE WAVES.

The following video is an example of "Diva Tag." One singer tags the other to take over the song... at the most inopportune times. As confusing as a conversation with San Geraldo?


*The real expressions: 1) Don't rock the boat; and 2) Don't make waves.

Oh! Ma-Ma!

It's so good to be home with the incomparable San Geraldo and my boys the cats (Dudo and Moose). But I miss My Mother The Dowager Duchess. Here are some random photos from my visit to Brooklyn.

(Click any image to enlarge on the delicious fun.)

THE DUCHESS DIDN'T ONLY HAVE JUNK FOOD ON HAND FOR ME.
THIS IS CALLED A BIALY (CLICK HERE IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS).

FRESH KIWI.

A WONDERFUL LUNCH WITH COUSIN EVIE AT THE PARKVIEW DINER.
THE KID BROTHER FLASHES ME A SMILE. (MORE ON COUSIN EVIE SOON.)

THIS IS HOW THE DOWAGER DUCHESS FOLDS A BAG... FOR RECYCLING.
AND SAN GERALDO THINKS I'M OBSESSIVE!

I SHOCKED THE DUCHESS BY SNAPPING THIS PHOTO AT HER BANK.
AN APPROPRIATE PLACE FOR AN HUCHA (COIN SLOT), DON'T YOU THINK?

AS IF OREOS WITH DOUBLE STUFF WEREN'T ENOUGH.

PIZZA AT ROCCO'S, ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE DUCHESS'S.

THE KID BROTHER WOULDN'T DIG IN TO HIS PEPPERONI PIZZA.
UNTIL I PUT THE CAMERA AWAY...  SO, I LIED.

HOLIDAY TOILET SEAT COVERS AND TOILET RUGS (UN-PURCHASED).

WHAT THE DUCHESS GAVE ME TO TAKE HOME.
(AUSTRALIAN LICORICE, LICORICE ALL-SORTS, CANDY CORN,
DOUBLE-STUFF OREOS, TOOTSIE ROLLS, TOOTSIE POPS,
AND PEPPERIDGE FARM MILANOS).
AND THE DUCHESS RAISED US TO EAT HEALTHY!

The Dowager Duchess and I went to King's Plaza in Brooklyn one day. It's a shopping mall first opened in the '60s that has recently undergone a major overhaul. It's now an even better place to shop. I needed a new pair of Levi's 501s, which cost more than 100 euros here. I got a pair there for the equivalent of 35 euros.

While we shopped, the Duchess wanted to sit down for a rest. I spotted a massage chair and slipped a dollar bill into the arm. The Duchess loved it. I shot a video. If I share the entire video, the Duchess might never buy me candy again. So, here's just one frame. (But, I think I'm still in big trouble.)

OH! MA-MA!

Why: It Rhymes With Soy

I'm back home in Fuengirola after an easy trip and great flights and service on Iberia. Not a moment's sleep along the way, but you can't have everything. What a joy to see San Geraldo when I arrived in Málaga.

Back in Brooklyn earlier in the week, I got to take a 2-hour walk beginning on the Boardwalk through Brighton Beach and continuing on through Manhattan Beach to Sheepshead Bay. (Click any image to enlarge.)

WOODEN BOARDWALK WHERE IT MEETS THE NEW CONCRETE BOARDWALK.
NOT EVERYONE LIKES IT, BUT IT'S AT LEAST NICE TO NOT WORRY
ABOUT TRIPPING OVER LOOSE BOARDS.

At one point, as I snapped a photo, a woman stopped behind me and looked, in apparent incredulity and disgust, at what I was shooting. "I used to live here and am back for a visit, so I'm taking pictures," I explained.

"Woy?!?" she demanded (That's "why," which rhymes with "soy").

I tried to explain. She asked asked a lot of questions. Almost angrily. I don't know woy. But I made my escape quickly and gracefully.

OLD BRIGHTON BEACH OVERLOOKING NEW BRIGHTON BEACH.

FORMER SITE OF THE BRIGHTON BEACH BATHS (A PRIVATE CLUB, 1907–1994)
(3 POOLS, TENNIS, HANDBALL, MINIATURE GOLF, EVEN — AT ONE TIME — A NUDE BEACH).

THE END OF THE BOARDWALK (SEPARATING BRIGHTON FROM MANHATTAN BEACH).
MY PARENTS USED TO WALK HERE AND KICK OFF THE WALL BEFORE TURNING BACK HOME.

I REPRESENTED THE FAMILY AND KICKED OFF ON MY OWN.

I HEADED ONTO THE BEACH TO SEE CONSTRUCTION
AND THE BACKS OF SOME MANHATTAN BEACH HOUSES.

THE FRONTS OF THOSE SAME MANHATTAN BEACH HOUSES.

OLD MANHATTAN BEACH.

MORE OLD MANHATTAN BEACH.

A McMANSION...

ONE OF THE TUDORS...

A MUTE SWAN: SO, NO NEW YORK ACCENT.

MANHATTAN BEACH SIDE OF SHEEPSHEAD BAY.
THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF SHEEPSHEAD BAY ACROSS THE FOOT BRIDGE.

MANHATTAN BEACH "HOUSE" THE GULLS (IN PREVIOUS PHOTO)
WERE LOOKING AT.

SOME FORMER SUMMER COTTAGES. THE NEIGHBORHOODS
WERE ONCE FILLED WITH THESE.

SOME CHARMING OLD ROW HOUSES IN MANHATTAN BEACH.

BRIGHTON BEACH OLD STYLE.

OLD BRIGHTON BEACH ART DECO.

TWO OF THESE FLANK THE ENTRANCE TO AN
OLD APARTMENT BUILDING IN BRIGHTON BEACH.

"WOY?!?" THE LADY IN BROWN DEMANDED.

Brooklyn USA...