Duo Tapas with Tres Guapas... and Rode Estigwar

"Guapa" is an endearing way to say "beautiful" and San Geraldo and I had the pleasure of being with three guapas last night. We spent the evening with Tere, along with Paula and Adela, who also work downstairs at El Sanedrín and who have also made us feel like Sevilla is truly home. Paula and Adela recently became roommates and live in the nearby cool neighborhood of La Alameda. They suggested we meet for dinner around nine last night.

DOS GUAPAS.
PAULA (LEFT) MOONING ABOUT METALLICA. ADELA ENVYING HER DAY IN MADRID.

So, Tere came by after work to visit her nephews the cats. And we three then met Paula and Adela in La Alameda and walked together to Duo Tapas. It's located in a charming little plaza in front of a small chapel. The food was exceptional and inexpensive. The service was perfect. The atmosphere, relaxing.

CHAPEL OF [QUICK INHALE] HERMANDAD SANTA CRUZ DEL RODEO Y NUESTRA SEÑORA DEL CARMEN.
SINCE 1502.

Paula and Adela both speak a little English, but they haven't used it much. So, they speak mostly Spanish and I translate for Jerry if he doesn't follow something. (He follows a lot.)

SAN GERALDO (IN GREEN WITH BACK TO THE CAMERA). SPEAKING WITH HIS ENTIRE BODY.

DELICIOUS POTATOES IN SALSA.
IT WASN'T EASY GETTING SAN GERALDO AND PAULA TO SHARE WITH THE REST OF US.

TERE A LA TEMPURA.
BOTH DELICIOUS.

Paula headed to Madrid this morning to see a Metallica concert. She loves music and told us that she has seen and loves Rode Estigwar, as well. I asked, "Who?" And Teré repeated — shocked that I didn't recognize the name — "Rode Estigwar." Paula then played a bit of a song on her smart phone. We know Rode Estigwar better as Rod Stewart. They burst out laughing when they heard the correct pronunciation. Tere then said she'd have to call her mother who has always had a crush on the old-time actor, Estigwar Granhair. She thought her mother would be surprised to learn that his real name is Stewart Grainger.

G'wan Home, Ya' Mudder's Callin'

MUDDER AND ME.

Many of us have memories of our mothers singing songs to us when we were children. My mother, The Dowager Duchess, still tends to burst into song at the drop of a hat (I mean the drop of a word). I inherited that trait. Just about everything makes me think of a song. And if you want me to remember something forever, just put it to music. The Duchess's favorite songs for children were not those sweet little ditties most mothers sang to their kids. Hers were old vaudeville tunes or songs from films. I don't know if Good Housekeeping would give their seal of approval to these songs being sung to a 2-year-old, but I sure enjoyed them and will remember them forever. And whatever damage they may have done to my emotional development... well, I've learned to live with it.

THE DOWAGER DUCHESS AND THE ROYAL CONSORT (MY FATHER).

PRACTICING ONE OF THEIR TRADITIONAL LULLABIES.

(WITH THANKS TO MY COUSIN SHEREE FOR THIS CLASSIC PHOTO.)

The first song is one of my all-time favorites. In trying to find it online today, I learned that it's an old jumping-rope rhyme. I couldn't find a video of it being performed so you'll just have to imagine it being sung by the ever-surprising Dowager Duchess.

Oh, I won't go to Macy's anymore, more, more.

There's a big fat policeman at the door, door, door.

He'll grab you by the collar.

And he'll make you pay a dollar.

No, I won't go to Macy's anymore, more, more!

However, The Dowager Duchess apparently added her own personal twist to the last three lines. She didn't sing them as above. Her lyrics were:

(Note: The first "ch" combination is pronounced gutterally, like German.)

He'll squash you like a lemon.

Uchalotchka zulhimemnon.

No, I won't go to Macy's anymore, more, more!

I originally had posted here a very brief video clip from the 1946 film, "Two Sisters from Boston," but the video has now been removed from YouTube for copyright infringement. This one contains the complete original song (although not performed by a bunch of chorus girls). The always appropriate Dowager Duchess would sing the verse while she did laundry.

The Virgin of Rocío

The Romería de El Rocío has begun. Pilgrims are traveling from all over Spain (and Europe) to meet in the little town of Rocío at the Hermitage of El Rocío. It's about 78 km (47 miles) southwest of Sevilla. I was up at 7:30 (gasp) to see everyone off, but mostly to take pictures and witness the departure. It took me about 10 minutes to walk from our house and cross the bridge into Triana; let's call it my pilgrimage.

GOING MY WAY? THE FIRST VEHICLE I SAW AFTER WALKING ACROSS THE BRIDGE.

The group from Sevilla set off from Triana around 10:00 this morning, Wednesday. They are expected to have all arrived in Rocío by midnight Saturday. Pilgrims walk; drive; ride horseback; ride in carts pulled by oxen, mules, tractors... you name it. Each procession is led by a paso carrying an emblem of the Immaculate Conception.

SOME PROMINENT INDIVIDUALS ESCORTING THE PASO.

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE PASO.
(THE GREEN HAT BANDS ARE IMPRINTED WITH THE NAME "TRIANA.")

Just about everyone I saw wore a medallion of the Virgin. Some were simple, some were grand. Some were new and some had been handed down for generations. The procession began on Triana's large pedestrian street Calle San Jacinto, but soon turned left into the narrow Calle San Jorge and continued around the bend onto Calle de Castilla passing the Callejon de la Inquisición on its way.  The street quickly became clogged with pilgrims and onlookers. It was a claustrophobe's nightmare. (I'm glad San Geraldo wasn't there.)

 I WONDER HOW MANY PILGRIMAGES THEY'VE SEEN PASS.

The paso stopped for about 15 minutes in front of the historic church (built between 1697 and 1702), Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la O (I  have absolutely no idea what "the O" is and I can only imagine where some readers' minds will go), on Calle de Castilla, where it was blessed with flower petals thrown from church balconies. Tribute songs were sung, a cheer was led, and then the procession got into full swing.

THE FLOWER PETALS.

I was trapped in the crowd during the musical/floral interlude and I was grateful to be tall enough to be able to reach my arms above the heads of the people around me so I could take pictures. The motorized vehicles all waited on the edge of Triana for the paso, the marchers, the horses, and the ox carts to reach them. Then, everyone took off.

LOLA IN TRAVELING CLOTHES (NO HEELS THIS WEEK.)
A BEER BREAK BEFORE THE CROWD CATCHES UP.

Alex waited with the car. Albert, Lola, and some family and friends walked with the crowds until they reached him. Then, everyone but Lola drove off. Lola will not get back in the car until Saturday! The back of the car was filled with food and drink, so Lola will be well-fed and hydrated for her 78-km walk.

  

KIND OF THE WAY SAN GERALDO'S ANCESTORS TRAVELED TO DAKOTA TERRITORY.
(BUT NOT QUITE...)

WAGON TRAIN?

AND NOW THE PARTY STARTS.

I THINK I'D RATHER WALK.

Giant Asparagus After Lunch

San Geraldo was going to make another delicious salad for lunch, but he didn't have any greens. So we took a walk to a nearby café and enjoyed lunch in the spectacular spring sunshine. (Pollen be damned.) We had a good lunch and tipped an accordion player even though he played "Cielito Lindo" — he played it well and he added his own special variations. On our way home, we marveled at some of the breathtaking blooms on the trees and bushes. Much of what grows in Sevilla and Andalucía is the same as what grew in Southern California. With their year-round climates, there are lots of transplants from Africa, Australia, and India. But, every so often we do come across something we've never seen before.

GIANT ASPARAGUS.
(I KNOW IT'S AN AGAVE BLOOM STEM, BUT STILL...)

I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS, BUT IT SURE IS BEAUTIFUL.
(THE BEES THOUGHT SO, TOO.)

LIVING IN THE CITY.

ANOTHER NEW TREE FOR ME.

BACK ON OUR PLAZA — A CATALPA TREE.
(IDENTIFICATION THANKS TO BLOGGER KRISTI IN THE WESTERN RESERVE.)

Another Parade and Then a Time Out

I've been feeling kind of run down for a number of weeks. I'm sure it's my allergies (and I'm finally meeting my new doctor Wednesday, so all is well). Before lunch today I was lounging and reading "Great Expectations" on my Kindle when Jerry walked in and said, "I don't know if you care, but I hear a band nearby." Well, how could I resist?  I opened my balcony door to see if I could determine which direction I needed to go. I then threw on my shoes, grabbed my camera, and ran downstairs. The music was coming from about a block south. I met the latest Cruces de Mayo (Crosses of May) procession as it was turning past the restaurant Niños del Flor (Flower Children) at the corner of Calle Virgen de Los Buenos Libros (Virgin of the Good Books Street).

THE PASO AND ESCORTS. THE RESTAURANT NIÑOS DEL FLOR IS AT LEFT.

THE HORNS TURNING THE CORNER.

STAYING IN STEP.

AFTER THE PARADE PASSES BY

Dudo and Moose — especially Dudo — can be persistent and annoying when they want to play. Dudo's favorite toy is the drawstring from a pair of Jerry's sweatpants (sweatpants no longer attached). He drags it with him as he follows me from room to room. I'm supposed to grab the other end. When I came back upstairs from the little procession, Dudo was waiting. I gave in and played with him... again (I'm already well-trained). Moose joined in. My goal was to keep playing with them this time until I wore them out. I succeeded.

MOOSE AND DUDO CALLING FOR A TIME OUT.
(YES, THAT'S THE LETTER "T." THEY'RE NOW LEARNING THE MOVES TO "YMCA.")

[Deep Inhale] Real Illustre y Fervorosa Hermandad del Santísimo Sacramento y Archicofradia de Nazarenos de la Sagrada Expiración de nuestro Señor Jesucristo y María Santísima de las Aguas

One of the nearby brotherhoods, officially known as the "Real Illustre y Fervorosa Hermandad del Santisimo Sacramento y Archicofradia de Nazarenos de la Sagrada Expiración de nuestro Señor Jescucristo y María Santísima de las Aguas," more readily known as "Hermandad del Museo" (or the "Museum Brotherhood") has its Cruz de Mayo events this weekend. The Cruces de Mayo are the "May Crosses," of which there are a number around the city. They appear to be an outgrowth of the pagan ritual of the Maypole. There are small processions and special events throughout the month.

THE CROSS OF THE MUSEUM BROTHERHOOD. EARLY FRIDAY EVENING.

ARRANGING THE TABLES AND CHAIRS, AND SETTING UP THE SALES TENT.

Last night the Museum Brotherhood hosted a fund-raiser, concert, and dinner in the plaza in front of their chapel and meeting hall, which is next door to the Museum of Fine Arts. This evening, there will be a mini-procession and presentations involving children of the members of the Brotherhood.

BANDA DEL SOL.

FOOD AND DRINKS TICKETS WERE SOLD FROM THE TENT, ALONG WITH TOYS AND GIFTS.

Last night's concert performance was by the Banda del Sol (Band of the Sun) from the musical association "Nuestra Señora del Sol" (Our Lady of the Sun). It was pasodoble music, which is marching music — John Philip Sousa, Spanish style. The band is well-known here but, unless there's a parade along with it, marching music is not my cup of tea or, in this case, my glass of sangria.

MÚSICA DEL SOL.

Jacarandas

I love jacarandas. The trees are in bloom all around Sevilla. Few leaves yet. Just magical masses of violet flowers set off against the dark wood of the branches and trunks. Take a walk with me.

LEAVING HOME THIS MORNING AND CROSSING TO THE PLAZA DE LA CONCORDIA.

PLAZA DEL MUSEO. THE PAINTER MURILLO FRAMED BY COLOR.

MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS ON THE LEFT.

BACK IN OUR PLAZA.

THE PLAZA IN FRONT OF THE CHAPEL OF EL MUSEO.
COULD IT BE?  ANOTHER SPECIAL EVENT COMING SOON!

Jerryism #7, Plus a Shameless Display of Cats

Jerry has a brilliant mind... 

It just doesn't always connect with his mouth.

DUDO AND MOOSE.

While I enjoyed a cheese-and-crackers snack prepared and served by San Geraldo, he came walking back into the room and asked, "What's that thing you say when you're really embarrassed? You know... 'Your head between your knees'?"

I managed to not spray my crackers all over my keyboard, finished chewing, took a sip of water and said, "You mean 'with your tail between your legs.' "

I explained, "You put your head between your knees when you feel like you're going to throw up  ... or when you're feeling really dizzy. Or when the plane's about to crash."

I'm so glad he doesn't have to master English before he learns Spanish.

THE CATS: WITH THEIR HEADS IN ALL DIFFERENT PLACES

DUDO

MOOSE

About Anchovies and After-Dinner Drinks

CHEF GONZALO.

San Geraldo and I went back to Catalina today for lunch. This time, Terr met us and we sauntered over together in the 100F (38C) sunshine. Tere knows Gonzalo from her restaurant but didn't know he had a restaurant of his own.

Teré, you may remember, is from a small pueblo (Conil de la Frontera) on the Atlantic and absolutely loves any kind of seafood. (Remember those little shrimps she devoured, shells and all.) But she has always hated anchovies. I told her we hated anchovies, too, and that if there was ever the possibility that she might like anchovies, the ones made by Gonzalo at Catalina would be those. At least I think that's what I said. I speak to Tere almost entirely in Spanish. She lets me know when I make a major gaff or am unintelligible, but I know she lets quite a bit slide, simply translating me on the fly as well as she can (kind of what I do with San Geraldo when he speaks English).

We had another exceptional meal at Catalina and Tere agreed that she had never known an anchovy could taste so good — not salty, not oily, just delicious. Another convert thanks to Gonzalo's anchovies!

PIMIENTOS Y ANCHOAS DEL CANTÁBRICO. DELICIOUS. TRUST ME

Now, you may be expecting, from the title of this post, that we also had after-dinner drinks. We did not. That just brings me round to another gaff. On our way home from Catalina, we bumped into a friend of Tere's, someone she has sung with professionally many times. His name is Juan and I'm sorry I didn't take a picture (but Jerry is starting to give me "the look" because I can't go 5 minutes without whipping out my camera).

Anyway, Juan was charming and warm and had joyful energy. He speaks a little English and we were joking about our gaffs in each other's languages. Jerry commented that he simply says "sí" to everything, which is how, although he doesn't drink he was almost served an after-dinner drink our second night in Spain when the bartender kindly offered to buy us two "chupitos" (shots of alcohol, in this case after-dinner liqueur). I offered the story in Spanish to Juan and said, "At the question, 'Chupitos?' Jerry said, "Sí!"

That was supposed to be the funny part of my story... and it was. However, if you change the "o" in chupito to an "a" (which is what I did), you change an after-dinner drink to something entirely different.  Juan burst out laughing and mimed it for me by way of explanation. If you know that "chupa" is lollypop, you might get the picture. It's something that could occur with one person under the table or simply on their knees... if you get my drift. Good. You got my drift. I will not mime it for you.

The problem is, I have told that story several times since we've been here. And I'm pretty sure, I have swapped the "o" for an "a" on at least a few occasions. I'm also pretty sure those were the times no one laughed at my story. Thank you, Juan, for saving me further embarrassment.