Possibly Passing on the Pink Palacio

All is not going well in the land of apartment negotiations.  We thought everything was settled regarding the rental of the rose-colored palacio on Calle Cuna, but we haven't been thrilled with the unwanted surprises being thrown our way by the owner — surprises that give us headaches and would cost us a lot more money.  So, it looks like we're going to pass this one up.

WE WALK BY THIS SIGN ALMOST EVERY DAY.
IT'S A HOSTEL CALLED "THE GARDEN."
YES, "THE HOSTILE GARDEN."

EMPOWERMENT
We may not be as settled as we thought, but it opens up the opportunity to explore some more.  It also gives me the opportunity to use my Spanish with rental agents.  I just phoned and made an appointment for this evening so we can see a supposedly grand apartment near the Museum of Bellas Artes.  The woman on the phone was warm, friendly, helpful, and charming.  And, although my Spanish is bad (it's especially difficult on the phone when I can't use or watch body language), I was pleased to learn that my accent is clearly not American (or that of an English speaker).  After speaking in Spanish on the phone for 10 minutes, she heard me ask Jerry a question in English and she excitedly said, "Ah. You speak English!"  For the rest of the conversation, she mostly spoke beautiful English with Spanish thrown in when she got stuck. I then spoke a combination of the two languages and even learned some new words.  We're meeting on a street near the department store, El Corte Inglés. When she told me the name of the street, I understood everything but the first word and asked her to repeat it twice before finally asking her to spell it for me.  V-I-R-G-E-N (you know, like virgin).  Should anything be read into the fact that I couldn't understand the word "virgin"?  Anyway, we're meeting this evening on Calle Virgen de los Buenos Libros (literally, Virgin of the Good Books Street).

OUR FIRST VIRGIN IN SEVILLA.  OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, SANTA ANGELA DE LA CRUZ.

THE PARADES PASSING BY

We are in the midst of the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel or, as she's known in Sevilla, The Virgen (there's that word again) del Carmen.  Most nights, we simply stumble upon pasos, spectacularly mounted statues of the Virgin Mary and Jesus being carried through the streets.

ANOTHER NIGHT.  ANOTHER VIRGIN.  ANOTHER PROCESSION.

The ornamentation is spectacular.  The pomp — the escorts, followers, spectators, marching bands, and music — vary from average to exceptional.

CREATED FROM THE TREASURES (LOOTING) OF THE AMERICAS.

 

It is considered a great honor, a life-altering honor, to carry the virgin through the streets.  Depending on the size of the paso and the heat of the night, the job can be simply cumbersome to completely exhausting.  But the men who perform the service are extremely proud to be allowed the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

THE SNEAKERED FEET OF THE CARRIERS.  IT REMINDED ME OF THE FLINTSTONES.

COOLING OFF FOR A MINUTE BEFORE CONTINUING THEIR MARCH.

AN ICE COLD BEER AFTER THE WORK IS DONE.

Metropol Parasol and Finding Home

FROM THE MAIN PLAZA BEFORE TAKING THE ELEVATOR UP.

In a recent post, I shared a couple of photos of the new construction at the Plaza de la Encarnacion in the center of Sevilla.  The structure is called Metropol Parasol and it's the largest wooden structure in the world. The views are amazing and down below are the Antiquarium (the brand new archaeological museum), a restaurant, and Sevilla's farmers' market.

LIKE BEING INSIDE A GIANT HONEYCOMB.

Last night before dinner, Jerry and I took the elevator to the top of the structure and strolled the walkways to admire the spectacular views contrasting old and new architecture.  Well, it would be more correct to say that Jerry and I both took the elevator up, but I alone strolled the walkways.

RUN!  A MILDLY PANICKING JERRY TELLING ME HE'S HEADING BACK DOWN.

A VIEW FROM THE BACK. NOTE THE WALKWAY SNAKING TO THE RIGHT.

UNDULATIONS.

A STUDY IN CONTRASTS.

Jerry went out onto the first walkway concerned about the heights only to become more concerned about the vibrations.  So, I continued on and he went back downstairs to check out the Antiquarium (built around the discoveries at the base of the Metropol Parasol).

LA GIRALDA (THE CATHEDRAL BELL TOWER) IN THE BACKGROUND.

The museum was closed (Sunday night at 9), but you can still see quite a bit through the glass and it was beautiful and fascinating. We'll have to get back to really explore the ancient history (ruins going as far back as 1 A.D.).

LOOKING AT SEVILLA THROUGH A ROSE-COLORED PALACIO.

REALLY CLOSE TO HOME

We take possession August 1 of our apartment on Calle Cuna. We are elated.  The apartment shares the top floor of a three-story former private palace in the heart of old Sevilla.  Our "palacio" is on a pedestrianized street and is simply 10 apartments built in the shell of a former palace.  It's only two bedrooms, but it's grander (in style and quality) than we expected to find.  It's light and airy, and quiet; with large windows opening onto a charming and large interior courtyard and other windows looking out back.  And the location is incredible.  For those of you who know the city, we are across the street from the Palace of Lebrija, a fully restored private palace that is now a private museum.  We are just a few minutes walk from Metropol Parasol, El Corte Inglés, and all the other shopping, dining, and people-watching you could possibly desire (and about 10-minutes away from that antique store that's selling my Parachute Jump, which would look so great in our new apartment).

Nobody Loves Me. Everybody Hates Me. Think I'll Go Eat Worms.

The title of this post is the start of a song from my childhood.  And it hasn't stopped playing in my head since dinner last night.   I'll soon explain why.

COMMEMORATING THE 2ND OF MAY 1808 REBELLION AGAINST THE OCCUPYING FRENCH.
MONUMENT TO LUIS DAOIZ DE TORRES, ONE OF THE LEADERS OF THE UPRISING.

We returned to Dos de Mayo, one of the best (if not the best) tapas bars around.  The place is always busy and the food and service are always phenomenal.  Everything is made fresh to order.  We started off with a spectacular plate of large grilled shrimp — the bartender showed us the fresh gambas (shrimp) as soon as we sat down and then had them cooked up for us.  As usual, we ordered too many — eight instead of simply four — and they were very expensive I'm sure, although they were worth every penny.  They were so good I didn't even mind getting my fingers messy (and I usually mind very much getting my fingers messy).  And I now know the Spanish word for those individually packaged moistened towelettes — toallitas.

FOUR DOWN.  FOUR TO GO.

We had to have spinach and garbanzos again.  As delicious as we remembered.  And we were pleased to note that the spinach and garbanzos Jerry cooked in Irvine were exactly right.  I then asked the bartender to choose two more dishes for us.  He suggested, and I agreed to, a cazuela (casserole) of shrimp and fish, and a lamb and vegetable skewer.

SKEWERED.

When the cazuela arrived, it was filled with shrimp, fish, and what looked like some kind of sprouts (like alfalfa sprouts or bean sprouts).  On closer inspection, the "sprouts" appeared to be worms.  A bowl filled with worms.  Jerry and I were both brave enough to try one each and we then agreed that not only did they look like worms, but they felt like we thought a worm would feel in one's mouth.

BEAUTIFUL AND DELICIOUS... EXCEPT FOR THE "WORMS."

I asked the bartender if he knew what they were called in English and he did not.  He called out to a customer at another table and she told me in English that she was pretty sure they weren't worms, thought they were fish of some kind, but did not know more than that.  I laughed and said they still looked and felt too much like worms for our taste.

EENSY WEENSY SQUEENSY ONES

THE WORMS
After I emailed the photo to Margarita to find out what they were called, my personal research librarian, Jerry, checked things out this morning and we now know all we need to know about the worms that are not worms.  Angulas, 2-inch-long (5cm) baby eels are a traditional Basque dish.  Six families are the principal suppliers in the world.  These baby eels, also known as elvers (a crossword puzzle staple) in English, are rare and very expensive (more than $40 a pound) and in the 1980s were so hard to find that the price was up to $120 a pound.  So, one of the Basque family companies came up with a less expensive imitation.  They work with Japanese technology to convert surimi (fish from Alaskan waters pressed fresh into blocks on factory ships) into pseudo-elvers, which they call "gulas," by forcing the material out, spaghetti-like, into the shape of elvers.  A touch of squid ink is then added to tint the backs dark.  What makes it obvious these are fakes is that there are no eyes.  Now, why anyone would want to eat anything that looks and feels like a worm (or baby eel) — pseudo or not — is beyond me.  Margarita, by the way, thinks they are "marvelous"!

THE SONG.

The Great State of Santacoda?

Last night, we had a tapas dinner in La Alameda neighborhood with our warm, charming, funny, and fascinating Sevillana friend, Margarita.  Margarita teaches English and Spanish, but our rapid-fire American English at times leaves her a bit confused.  In January, while trying to fill a lifetime of information into a few brief meetings, we told her about Jerry's childhood in South Dakota.  As part of Margarita's studies, she learned about all the states of the USA and all their capitals.  (She's probably more informed than I am.)  But, because we were speaking so quickly, she didn't clearly catch the words "South Dakota."  So, she admitted last night, immediately after we left in February she began to do research on the place she thought Jerry was from.  She said she became more and more frustrated because she could find absolutely no reference to this placed called "Santacoda."  After a couple of days, the light bulb went on, "Hmm," she thought, "that sounds an awful lot like South Dakota."
 

THE JUST-COMPLETED PLAZA DE ENCARNACION, HOME TO THE PUBLIC MARKET.

What a warm welcome we have felt in this exceptional city.  We are so glad to be back here and to have decided that this will be our home in Spain.  The counter-person at our favorite breakfast place, Nostalgia, (remember "dos especiales, por favor"?) recognized us and welcomed us back with a huge smile and warm greeting.  Thursday night, we had dinner at our favorite restaurant, San Marco, the place we visited every Sunday when we were here in January/February, and one of the servers remembered us and even offered to treat us to after-dinner drinks.

HISTORICAL PURISTS ARE NOT THRILLED WITH THE DESIGN. BUT I FIND IT UPLIFTING.

Our friend Alberto, who had been visiting family far from here for 12 days and only just returned for two days before heading off again, still managed to schedule an appointment for us with a rental agent he knows.  He met us for drinks before introducing us to the agent and he then raced off.  He is so kind.  The agent was great and showed us the one and only apartment she has available and, unbelievably, we fell in love with it.  So, we may even have a home!

CALLE CUNA; POSSIBLY OUR NEW STREET.

I had my own Margarita Moment (Santacoda) yesterday while talking with the agent as we were leaving the apartment, which is part of the top floor of a former private palace.  I told her in Spanish that we were very interested.  Well, I MEANT to tell her in Spanish that we were very interested.  What I in fact said was that we were very interestING.  I realized my mistake and started to laugh and then corrected myself (interasado, not interesante).  She laughed, too, but said she agreed, we WERE very interesting.

WE ASKED MARGARITA TO DO THE ORDERING.  EXCELLENT ENSALADILLA RUSA
AND, A FIRST FOR US, DELICIOUS SALMOREJO — ANDALUSIAN CREAMY, COLD SOUP.

Also, we told Margarita that Thursday evening when we walked by Rodilla, a very good chain cafe, the counter person remembered us and excitedly welcomed us home.  Margarita said, "Ah, Rodilla.  Si."  Jerry thought she was correcting our pronunciation of the name, so he repeated, Arodilla.  I then had to explain... to him and to her.  This is certainly going to be entertaining!

REDUCED FROM €199 TO €169.  MORE THAN THE PRICE OF A COUPLE OF SAILORS.

ANOTHER MAGICAL MOMENT

On our way to La Alameda with Margarita last night, we passed an antique and collectibles store.  It was closed, but the lights were on and, from across the narrow street, I noticed what looked like the Parachute Jump sitting on a small table in the window.  I excitedly crossed the street to get a closer look.  Yes!  It was an actual working replica of the Parachute Jump from the 1939 New York World's Fair.  The Parachute Jump visible from my mother's apartment windows.  The Parachute Jump my mother got to ride with her friend Harriet in the mid-1940s by "picking up a couple of sailors."  So, now I'm trying to keep myself from going back to the store to buy it.

If It's Thursday, It Must Be Sevilla

We have made it to Sevilla.  Three jumbo suitcases, two carry-on bags, two computer bags — and all on wheels, thankfully.  I wish Jerry and I had wheels as well — and someone to push/drag us. 

FLAMENCO WEDNESDAY NIGHT IN MALAGA.
AT AN EXCEPTIONAL RESTAURANT (DESPITE BEING TOURISTY), VINO MIO.

We've been at our hotel about an hour.  It feels great to be back, even if it is 104 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). 

AN OLD OLIVE PROCESSOR ALONG THE WAY TO SEVILLA.

The hunt for a place to live begins tomorrow.  The naps begin NOW!

ACRE UPON ACRE OF SUNFLOWERS.
I THOUGHT OF ASKING THE ENGINEER TO STOP SO I COULD GET A CLEAR SHOT.

If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium... Um, Dublin... Um, Málaga

PLENTY OF TIME FOR A COMPLETE IRISH BREAKFAST AT DUBLIN AIRPORT.
MUCHO TIEMPO PARA UN DESAYUNO IRLANDÉS EN EL AEROPUERTO DE DUBLÍN.

With our recent and continuing wanderings: Irvine, Pierre, Sioux Falls, Minneapolis, Pierre, Sioux Falls, Los Angeles, Irvine, Los Angeles, New York, Dublin... I'm so confused that the only way I know we're in Málaga is because yesterday was Tuesday and I know for certain that we were scheduled to arrive in Málaga Tuesday.  It feels like one of those really cheesy, hectic tours spoofed in the 1969 movie ("If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium").  Well, maybe not cheesy.  But, at times, hectic.  I've got a mix of camera photos and iPhone photos to share some highlights of our trek from New York to Málaga.

Con nuestras recientes y continuas andanzas: Irvine, Pierre, Sioux Falls, Minneapolis, Pierre, Sioux Falls, Los Ángeles, Irvine, Los Ángeles, Nueva York, Dublín ... Estoy tan confundido que la única forma en que sé que estamos en Málaga es porque ayer fue martes y sé con certeza que teníamos previsto llegar a Málaga el martes. Se siente como uno de esos recorridos realmente cursis y agitados falsificados en la película de 1969 (“Si es martes, esto debe ser Bélgica”). Bueno, tal vez no cursi. Pero, a veces, agitado. Tengo una combinación de fotos de cámara y fotos de iPhone para compartir algunos aspectos destacados de nuestra caminata desde Nueva York a Málaga.

VIEW DURING BREAKFAST AT THE BEAUTIFUL NEW TERMINAL 2 AT DUBLIN AIRPORT.
VEA DURANGTE EL DESAYUNO EN LA HERMOSA TERMINAL 2 EN EL AEROPUERTO DE DUBLÍN.

We arrived here in Málaga mid-day Tuesday, flying Aer Lingus via Dublin from New York.  The entire trip was uneventful (mostly) and surreal.  You probably all know by now that Spanish is my second language (DISTANT second language).  But I was so tired by the time we arrived in Málaga that English was beginning to sound like my THIRD language.  I could not successfully complete a sentence.  And conversation with Jerry — which as you also probably already know can be entertaining at the best of times — had begun to sound like an Abbott & Costello routine.

Llegamos aquí a Málaga a medio día del martes, volando Aer Lingus a través de Dublín desde Nueva York. Todo el viaje transcurrió sin incidentes (en su mayoría) y surrealista. Probablemente todos ya sepan que el español es mi segundo idioma (DISTANTE segundo idioma). Pero cuando llegamos a Málaga estaba tan cansado que el inglés comenzaba a sonar como mi TERCER idioma. No pude completar con éxito una oración. Y la conversación con Jerry, que como probablemente ya saben, puede ser entretenida en el mejor de los casos, comenzó a sonar como una rutina de Abbott & Costello.

But, every so often, when the fog of jetlag lifted, we were both elated.  After making our way to our temporary apartment here in Málaga, we settled in and took brief naps.  We woke up feeling refreshed only to feel completely muddled a few minutes later.  

Pero, de vez en cuando, cuando se levantaba la niebla del desfase horario, ambos estábamos eufóricos. Después de llegar a nuestro apartamento temporal aquí en Málaga, nos instalamos y tomamos breves siestas. Nos despertamos sintiéndonos renovados solo para sentirnos completamente confundidos unos minutos más tarde.

ON THE STREETS OF MALAGA TUESDAY NIGHT.
MARQUES DE LARIOS, THE MAIN PEDESTRIAN/SHOPPING THOROUGHFARE.
EN LAS CALLES DE MALAGA MARTES EN LA NOCHE.
MARQUES DE LARIOS, EL PRINCIPAL PEATONAL / COMERCIALIZADORA.

So we took a walk around town, picked up a cheap temporary mobile phone to use until we figure out what plan and contract is best for us, and we enjoyed some of the sights.  Málaga is mobbed with tourists.  Obviously, it's quite different from the way it was when we were here in January.  Feria de Málaga, the annual summer fair, will be here mid-August, and that will really liven things up.

Así que dimos un paseo por la ciudad, recogimos un teléfono móvil temporal barato para usar hasta que descubramos qué plan y contrato es mejor para nosotros, y disfrutamos de algunas de las vistas. Málaga está atestada de turistas. Obviamente, es bastante diferente de como era cuando estuvimos aquí en enero. La Feria de Málaga, la feria anual de verano, estará aquí a mediados de agosto, y eso realmente animará las cosas.

ENSALADILLA RUSA CAN BE GOOD!
ENSALADILLA RUSA PUEDE SER BUENA!

We stumbled upon an obviously popular tapas bar, Azahar, just two streets away from our apartment.  Below the restaurant name, the sign read (in Spanish): "More than tapas."  We figured it was going to be good, because it was only 8:30 p.m. (20:30), which is about two hours early for a stylish dinner, and it was filled with locals.  So, we sat and ordered and had an excellent dinner, including Azahar's version of ensaladilla rusa.  Do you remember our ensaladilla rusa disaster in Sevilla? (If not, click this link.) This time we were smart enough to order a tapas portion.  And this version was delicious and filled with a variety of foods — tasting nothing like the mayo- and cheese-choked blunder we ordered in Sevilla.  We are learning!

Nos topamos con un obviamente popular bar de tapas, Azahar, a solo dos calles de nuestro apartamento. Debajo del nombre del restaurante, el letrero decía: “Más que tapas”. Pensamos que iba a ser bueno, porque solo eran las 20:30, que es aproximadamente dos horas antes para una cena elegante, y estaba llena de lugareños. Entonces, nos sentamos y pedimos y tuvimos una excelente cena, incluyendo la versión de ensaladilla rusa de Azahar. ¿Recuerdas nuestro desastre de ensaladilla rusa en Sevilla? (Si no, haz clic en este enlace). Esta vez fuimos lo suficientemente inteligentes como para pedir una porción de tapas. Y esta versión era deliciosa y estaba llena de una variedad de alimentos, que no sabían nada como la pifia de mayonesa y queso que pedimos en Sevilla. ¡Estamos aprendiendo!

A CLEVER WAY TO PAY FOR THE WEDDING.
THEY HUGGED AND CHANGED THE POSE WHEN MONEY WAS DROPPED IN THE BOX.
UNA MANERA INTELIGENTE DE PAGAR LA BODA.
ABRAZARON Y CAMBIARON LA POSICIÓN CUANDO EL DINERO FUE DEJADO EN LA CAJA.

It's now 2:20 p.m. (14:40) Wednesday.  We rolled out of bed at 11 and finally got to breakfast at 12:35, which meant there weren't many places in the neighborhood to grab breakfast.  They had mostly closed for siesta at 12:30.  But we found one very good little cafe on a shady corner of a beautiful plaza and we had two “French breakfasts” — cafe con leche, croissants and jam, orange juice.  It wasn't necessarily healthy and it wasn't substantial, but it was good.

Ahora son las 14:40, del miércoles. Salimos de la cama a las 11 y finalmente desayunamos a las 12:35, lo que significaba que no había muchos lugares en el vecindario para tomar el desayuno. Habían cerrado principalmente para la siesta a las 12:30. Pero encontramos un pequeño café muy bueno en un rincón sombreado de una hermosa plaza y tuvimos dos “desayunos franceses”: café con leche, cruasanes y mermelada, jugo de naranja. No era necesariamente saludable y no era sustancial, pero era bueno.

THE VIEW WHILE WE ENJOYED TODAY’S FRENCH BREAKFAST.
LA VISTA MIENTRAS DISFRUTAMOS EL DESAYUNO FRANCÉS DE HOY.

We then strolled around town for an hour or so, visiting El Corte Inglés to browse home furnishings and electronics (because we'll need some things pretty soon) and to pick up some necessities.  In a few minutes we'll head out for lunch and then naps before, we hope, dinner with an online friend who is recently here from Texas (and who just happens to have rented an apartment in the building right next to ours).  We plan to take the train to Sevilla Thursday, where we'll settle into a hotel until we find a place to live!

Luego paseamos por la ciudad durante una hora más o menos, visitando El Corte Inglés para buscar muebles y artículos electrónicos para el hogar (porque necesitaremos algunas cosas muy pronto) y para recoger algunas necesidades. En unos minutos saldremos a almorzar y luego tomaremos una siesta antes, esperamos, cenar con un amigo en línea que acaba de llegar de Texas (y que acaba de alquilar un apartamento en el edificio justo al lado del nuestro). ¡Planeamos tomar el tren a Sevilla el jueves, donde nos instalaremos en un hotel hasta que encontremos un lugar para vivir!

WALKING BACK TO OUR APARTMENT AFTER SHOPPING.
CAMINANDO A NUESTRO APARTAMENTO DESPUÉS DE COMPRAS.

  

Random, Roaming, and a Bit of Beefcake

We have one more day here in New York.  Jerry and I are spending a couple of hours at Starbucks getting caught up again with the cyber world.  We then get to have lunch in Park Slope, Brooklyn, with an old friend we haven't seen since we left Connecticut in 1993. We are really looking forward to that.  This evening will be spent having a buen viaje dinner with my mother.  Perhaps we (Jerry... he's a saint) will do a load of laundry in the morning.  Another visit to Starbucks.  And we'll then pack and head to the airport.  The reality has not set in.  I think we'll both be overwhelmed with the excitement once we get on the plane tomorrow.

WAITING FOR THE NUMBER 7 IN THE HOT AND HUMID STATION.

We made a trip to Grand Central Station for lunch with two people very special to us. I had hoped to take a lot more pictures and do a lot more posting during our stay in New York.  There has been so much to shoot and share.  But, time did not allow it.  So, I'll instead just share some random shots taken with my iPhone in recent days.  We spent a few minutes in Grand Central Market and walked away with a bag of chocolate-covered raisin clusters for Jerry and SUGAR-FREE (and still delicious) chocolate-covered cashews for me.  The chocolate Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building looked like fun.

AND TO THINK WE WALKED AWAY WITH ONLY A HALF POUND (.226 KG) OF CHOCOLATE.

We had dinner last night in Rego Park, Queens, with long-time friends who are so kind and always ready to brave NYC traffic just to get together with us.  They chose another amazing restaurant — London Lenny's — which bills itself as the best seafood restaurant in Queens.  I wouldn't argue (although it's the ONLY seafood restaurant in Queens I've ever experienced). 

LONDON LENNY'S BROILED SCROD, SCALLOPS, SHRIMP, AND SOLE.  SUPERB.
(AND SO HEALTHY THAT I COULD ALLOW MYSELF A SLICE OF KEY LIME PIE.)

We returned home from London Lenny's to discover that my mother's co-op was experiencing a blackout.  We turned the corner to discover emergency vehicles, police cars, pedestrians, stores, and five high-rise buildings containing 2,500 apartments all in the dark.  The co-op runs on its own power plant, which at times can be a plus.  It was just about the only neighborhood lit up during the major blackouts in the Northeast.  Fortunately, we only had to wait 20 minutes until power was restored.  But, then came the ride to the top in the elevator with Jerry, who was convinced the power was going to fail again and get us stuck.  We made it!

IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE WE SAW THE LIGHT.

The other night, Jerry, my mother, and I were all too tired/lazy to head back out for dinner, so Jerry offered to just scramble up some eggs and make some toast.  Now, if I were the one offering to scramble eggs and make toast, you might be served — if all went well — scrambled eggs and toast.  Jerry, the master chef (and former caterer of Russian dinners), doesn't know how to keep it that simple.  He scrounged my mother's refrigerator and produced what my mother and I would both call a gourmet scramble — with a side of fried sweet potatoes, and a blueberry/strawberry garnish.  I think he's a keeper.

JUST A LITTLE SOMETHING JERRY THREW TOGETHER.

Before leaving Irvine, Jerry and I shipped off all our old family 35mm slides to have them digitized.  The two disks arrived and we have been having a wonderful time tripping down Memory Lane.  I found an old "beefcake" shot of me poolside in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  I was 15 at the time.  It might be better described as "beefSTICK" since that was more my shape.

BEEFCAKE OR BEEFSTICK.  YOU DECIDE.

Mermaids Before Málaga

Just four more days and we'll be on our way to JFK for our flight to Málaga!  In January, we obtained a lease for a place in Sevilla before deciding to relocate to Málaga.  As a result (and we thought this might be the case), our residency visas were issued for Sevilla and we are required to live there at least until our resident cards are issued (which could take several months).  Jerry and I fell in love with Sevilla, so it's no great hardship to have another change in plans.  So, we have our vacation rental in Málaga for the remainder of July and will find a permanent place in Sevilla (which is only about an hour and a half away on the express train).  We thrive on change!

THE MERMAID (AND MERMAN?) ON THE STATION
AT THE CORNER OF OCEAN PARKWAY AND BRIGHTON BEACH AVENUE.

I hope to post at least a couple more times before we leave New York.  Maybe there will be Malaga Mermaids and Mermen to photograph next week.  Right now, we're sitting in a Starbucks in Fresh Meadows, Queens, after visiting an old cemetery to do some research on dead relatives for Jerry's genealogy website, connectedbloodlines.com.  This afternoon and evening will be spent visiting and being visited by living relatives.

Picking Up a Couple of Sailors

The Parachute Jump still stands as a recognizable icon of Coney Island.  It was moved to its current location in 1941 from its original spot at the 1939 New York World's Fair in Flushing Meadow Park.  The ride became part of Steeplechase Park, which closed in 1964, the year my family moved to Brooklyn from Long Island.  I don't remember the ride running after Steeplechase Park closed and for that reason alone (or simple cowardice), I myself never rode the Parachute Jump.  My mother, however, did.

THE PARACHUTE JUMP THIS BEAUTIFUL, SUNNY MORNING.

The story I remember from my childhood — this is what I remember my mother telling me when I was 10 — was that she rode the Parachute Jump with my father when they were first dating.  She would have been 16 and he 17.  More of the story that I remember my mother telling me was that she went on it to impress my father.  Now, the Parachute Jump was not something I could imagine my mother riding.  In fact, I had never seen my mother go on any ride at an amusement park.  They all made her "too dizzy," she insisted.  So, when she told me the story and I asked her why she didn't go on rides any more.  Her response was, "Well, your father married me."

YESTERDAY FROM MY BEDROOM WINDOW, SHOWING THE WONDER WHEEL AND CYCLONE.
THE PARACHUTE JUMP IS BEHIND THE BUILDING ON THE RIGHT.

A few years ago, while my mother was visiting us in Las Vegas, one of my cousins was also visiting and we were talking about Coney Island.  My cousin was from LA and she had only seen Coney Island once when she flew in for my mother's 80th birthday.  In jest, I began to tell my cousin how my mother had tricked my father into marrying her by going on the Parachute Jump and making him think she was fun.  But, my mother immediately corrected me (she does that quite a bit).

THE CONEY ISLAND BOARDWALK THIS QUIET MORNING AFTER THE HOLIDAY WEEKEND.

"No. No," she said.  "I didn't go on with your father.  He was in the Army.  Harriet and I picked up a couple of sailors."

What?!?

We all burst out laughing.  "YOU picked up a couple of sailors?" I roared.  (If you met my very proper mother, you would know how absurd the idea would be — even the fact that she could say something like that aloud.)

THE PICK-UP "ARTIST" MORE THAN 60 YEARS LATER.

And then the back-pedaling began.  "Well, Harriet did the picking up.  She was much more forward than I.  I would never do anything like that."

I had tears in my eyes. "But you and Harriet picked up a couple of sailors?"

"It wasn't like that.  It wasn't nice for two girls to go on a ride like that by themselves."

"But it was nice to pick up a couple of sailors?"  I was having such a good time.  "What about your husbands?"

MY PARENTS.  YEARS AFTER THE SAILORS.
(MY FATHER WAS NEVER TOLD.)

"Well, of course, we weren't even engaged at the time.  Murray was in the Navy and your father was in the Army."  My mother was actually blushing now and Jerry and my cousin Joan were wiping tears from their eyes.

"So, what did you do AFTER the ride?" I asked.

"They walked us to the subway station and we took the train home.  It was completely innocent."

We recently took my mother to a local diner for lunch.  The diner is called "The Parkview" because it's not far from the Coney Island amusements and you can see some of the rides from its south-facing windows.  I was gleeful when I saw the photos on the cover of the large (diner-sized) menu.  There were old shots of the rides and amusements at Coney Island, including the Parachute Jump.  And at the very bottom of the cover... my mother and Harriet's sailors!

Brooklyn, a Couple of Slugs, and No Mermaids

We are both so tired from our travels and I think the excitement of what we're doing that we arrived at my mother's house (that's what we who grew up in apartments call our apartments) and have become a couple of slugs.  Today, our second day here, we hung around the house in the morning, went out for lunch at a local diner, took hour-long naps, and then deserted my mother to walk the mile to Starbuck's to get online again.  My poor mother must think we're the most boring people around. 

A SHOT THIS EVENING OF THE RESTORED BRIGHTON BEACH AVENUE
SUBWAY STATION (THE EL... SHORT FOR ELEVATED) AT OCEAN PARKWAY.

This is a big holiday weekend (July 4th, Independence Day), and my mother lives within walking distance of the boardwalk and a very busy beach resort.  So, I don't think we'll be doing much for the next couple of days except avoiding the crowds.  (I'll think like a New Yorker here and also mention that I don't want to give up our good parking spot because we may not find another until Monday night.)  It might be fun, though, to take a walk along the boardwalk tomorrow and get shots of the holiday crowds in Coney Island.  Too bad we missed the annual "Mermaid Parade" in late June.  That's a tradition that began in 1981, but I didn't know about it until we stumbled on it during a stroll to Nathan's (for hot dogs) while here for my mother's birthday in 2007.

MERMAIDS ON THE SUBWAY.  SO, I DON'T THINK THEY'RE "REAL" MERMAIDS.
(I FOUND THIS SHOT ON THE WEB FROM THE 2011 MERMAID PARADE.)

Little Russia by the Sea

RUSSIAN, THE MOST COMMON LANGUAGE ON THE NOW-THRIVING AVENUE UNDER THE EL.

We are sitting at the Starbucks on Brighton Beach Avenue in Brooklyn, New York, catching up on email and other things cyber.  This is about a mile from my mother's apartment (which is sadly not wired), so Jerry and I strolled over here a short time ago after Jerry had quite a lie-in this morning.  We arrived yesterday at Kennedy Airport from Los Angeles at 10:00 pm (that's 22:00 in Euro-time... for our dear cousin in Norway who always gets "a.m." and "p.m." confused; military time makes a lot more sense anyway).

"HOUSE OF BOOKS, ST. PETERSBURG" ON BRIGHTON BEACH AVENUE.

I plan to share lots of pictures while we're here.  I don't think there's any place quite like it.  I can't wait to have my first — and possibly last — hot dog and French fries from the original Nathan's in Coney Island (the adjacent neighborhood on the beach).  But, right now we have to finish our coffees and get back home to my mother before I feel really guilty!