Hunk Sweet Hunk

SHY JOSÉ.

According to The Dowager Duchess:
Animals sweat, gentleman perspire, and ladies glow. So, to be polite (because The Dowager Duchess is watching), I'll just say that San Geraldo perspires.

San Geraldo perspires a lot.

To be precise, San Geraldo perspires like a hooker in church.

Sorry, Mom! Sorry, San Geraldo! But at least I didn't say "he sweats." Which he does, by the way. Big time.

In fact, like Satchmo (aka, Louis Armstrong), San Geraldo carries a cloth with him at all times to mop his steamy brow. Unlike Satchmo, San Geraldo does not always have a white "perspiration" handkerchief handy (he has only one of heavier fabric for that use, personally monogrammed). When that elegant linen cloth is not available he carries one of a set of blue and white IKEA dish towels purchased just for him.

While we were enjoying breakfast Saturday morning, a new friend of ours came in and we invited him to join us. His name is José. While he was trying to converse with us in English and we were trying to converse in English and Spanish, José noticed the dish towel beside Jerry. He thought Jerry had taken it from behind the bar and wondered why. When I told him what it was, he laughed.

SATCHMO

He then said in English, "Me, I don't like sweet."

Jerry and I explained that it was pronounced with a short "e" and José laughed some more. He clarified that sometimes he does like sweet.

To be clear, I have made José laugh many times with my Spanish. Like the day not long after we met when I invited him to sit himself down ("siéntate") and instead told him to "siéntete" ("feel himself"). He laughed for a long time. Then he sat down anyway.

José asked what the English word "oonk" meant. I asked, "Do you mean "hunk"? He spelled it and we said, "That's pronounced "hunk." "Ah," he replied, "and what does it means?"

José is around 32 years old, lean and muscular, and very handsome. He's got thick, brown curly hair, a stubble-beard, blue-gray eyes, and a beautiful smile. Adding to his charm is the fact that he has no idea how handsome he is. As San Geraldo and I tossed out adjectives to describe a hunk, we finally landed on the same perfect explanation.

"You are a hunk!" we announced.

Have you ever seen a hunk blush?

SAN GERALDO IS STILL MY ONE AND ONLY HUNK SWEET HUNK... DISH TOWELS AND ALL.

Jerryism #8: Am I Just Dense?

San Geraldo and I Skyped with our friend Judy in Seattle the other day. San Geraldo was telling us about going to the supermarket at El Corte Inglés that morning without his Spanish/English dictionary. He needed to buy toothpicks, couldn't find them, and didn't know the word in Spanish. He stopped one staff-person and began by miming picking his teeth. She ignored the rest of his hand movements that he thought described a stick and she immediately took him over to toothpaste. When he tried to explain more clearly, she simply shook her head and made no effort to try and follow along in his peculiar game of charades. So, he moved on to someone else. He pulled a package of skewered shrimps from his cart and showed her the sticks. He then said in Spanish that he needed "much smaller" ones (yes, San Geraldo's Spanish has advanced that far). She laughingly led him directly to the toothpicks. As San Geraldo described it to us, the first woman he approached for assistance never would have gotten it. He said she appeared to be "as dense as a lava rock." 

SMALLER THAN A SKEWER? YOU MIGHT WANT A MONDADIENTE.

San Geraldo continued prattling on while Judy and I stared at each other with heads tilted and perplexed looks on our faces.

"Aren't lava rocks very porous? They're not at all dense, are they?" we asked almost in unison.

San Geraldo paused and thought about it. "Hmmm, I guess so," he said. "Oh, you both know what I meant!"

I think San Geraldo was perhaps aiming for "as dumb as a rock" or "as dumb as a box of rocks." But then maybe I'm just being dense.

LAVA ROCK: IT DOESN'T LOOK VERY DENSE TO ME.

Lazy Bones

"LAYIN' IN THE SHADE."

"SLEEPIN' IN THE SUN."

Depending on what weather forecast I read, it's either going to be 43C or 44+C today (109F or 112F). It's already hotter than that and still has another couple of hours to climb. Yesterday was supposedly cooler than today. It hit around 46C (115F). At this rate, I suppose it really doesn't matter where the thermometer lands, San Geraldo and I are not experiencing it first-hand, remaining in the comfort of our freshly painted and fairly clean apartment. Early this morning, San Geraldo watered the plants on the balconies and the cats got their fresh-air fix. Since then, the doors have been closed and the air-conditioning on. As usual, Moose lies in the shade and Dudo lies in the sun. We've been out for breakfast. I've been to the post office and then to El Sanedrín to say a brief "hola." The only reason I might consider going back outside is to go to the gym.

FIXING A HOLE WHERE THE RAIN GETS IN?

REPLACING PIPES
Work crews are out in force on a major project over the next year or more to upgrade/replace the sewer pipes along the streets of old Sevilla. Our side street is scheduled for some time next year, I think. It's amazing to see how quickly these crews get the work done and how beautifully they rebuild the structures to align with the ancient construction. But, it must be awful to work in the oppressive heat. The daily siesta is I'm sure a life-saver.

COBBLESTONES ALREADY MASTERFULLY REPLACED.

THE HEAT
As I mentioned above, I stopped off at El Sanedrín to say "hola" to Adela. I was pleased to bump into José, a recent acquaintance who is an exceptionally talented professional artist and sculptor. He's currently working on a piece for the nuns of the convent next door to us, Convento de Santa Rosalía. The order, the Community of Poor Clares, celebrates the 800th anniversary of its founding and José has the honor of creating a sculpture to commemorate the occasion. He showed me a snapshot from his smartphone. It's stunning. The life-size relief sculpture will be on display to the public on the 15th of this month. I'll be doing a blog on José and his art once I've photographed the finished piece. José's talent is not limited to sacred works, but that's where he's able to make a living locally.

So, how does this relate to the subtitle "THE HEAT"? When I mentioned to José that tomorrow was supposed to be even hotter than today, he said, "Oh, no, ask anyone at the Church of San Lorenzo and they'll tell you this is the hottest day of the year."

He saw my blank look and explained, "This is the day San Lorenzo was stripped naked and burned alive." He then added, pointing to his crotch, "Part by part." Adela's eyes opened wide in shock. "Really?" she asked. "Really," he said.

I can't verify any of this, but it led me to tell them about deep-fried Rocky Mountain Oysters.

INGREDIENTS:

1. 2 lbs BULL TESTICLES (calf, lamb, sheep, or turkey testicles can also be used)
2. 2 tablespoons salt, 1 tablespoon vinegar, 1 cup flour, 1/4 cup cornmeal, 1 cup red wine, salt, pepper, garlic powder, bottled hot sauce, cooking oil (for frying) or fat (for frying)  

DIRECTIONS: 

1. Split the tough skin-like muscle that surrounds each "oyster" (use a sharp knife).
2. You can also remove the skin easily if the meat is frozen and then peeled while thawing.
3. Soak in a pan of salt water one hour; drain.
4. Transfer to a large pot and add enough water to float the meat.
5. Add the vinegar to the pot. 
6. Parboil, drain and rinse. 
7. Let cool and slice each oyster into 1/4 inch thick ovals. 
8. Sprinkle salt and pepper on both sides of sliced oyster to taste. 
9. Combine flour, cornmeal and some garlic powder to taste. 
10. Roll each slice into flour mixture. 
11. Dip into milk. Roll again into flour mixture. Dip into wine.  
12. Fry in hot oil or fat seasoned with the bottled hot sauce to taste (be careful, it will sizzle when you add the hot sauce); fry until golden brown.  
13. Drain on paper towels. 
14. Serve with COCKTAIL SAUCE if desired.

Dogs That Beg... And Other Whiners

The other morning, when we were settling into our seats for breakfast at Emperador Trajano, San Geraldo whined a little bit when the empty chair was too far away for him to easily reach. He uses the extra chair to stash his hat and sunglasses. I hate whining (even when I do it). So, as I slid the chair toward him, I muttered, "Don't whine."

I NEVER WHINED, NOT EVEN WHEN THE DOWAGER DUCHESS GAVE ME A BALLOON
FOR BREAKFAST AND TOLD ME IT WAS AN ORANGE.

Without missing a beat, as he dropped his hat and sunglasses on the chair, San Geraldo retorted, "Well, if you'd pay attention to my needs, I wouldn't have to."

MY SISTER DALE DID MORE THAN WHINE, EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS GIVEN REAL FOOD.

San Geraldo and his sister Linda are very obviously related. Twenty-five years ago, Linda's dog, a Cairn Terrier (like Toto) named Ebony, was begging at my feet as we all sat at the table eating dinner. I love dogs, but I really hate begging.

MY BROTHER CHUCK WHINED NO MATTER HOW MUCH WE ABUSED TRIED TO DISTRACT HIM.

I looked down at sweet little Ebony and I said, "Ebony, don't beg."

Linda, who was sitting next to me, grabbed a small piece of chicken from my plate and, as she fed it to Ebony, commented, "Well, if you'd give her something, she wouldn't have to."

FLOWER GIRL LINDA AND RING-BEARER JERRY.
LINDA WHINED. THEN SHE WAS PROMISED THAT DOLLAR IF SHE DID HER JOB.

Paint the Whole Vhite

My father liked to tell me funny stories when I was a kid. One was about a house painter named Mr. Senior, which I always thought was an odd name. I would imagine he had a son who was called Mr. Senior, Jr., which would make the father Mr. Senior, Sr. When I learned señor meant mister in Spanish, off I went. 'I'd like you to meet father and son, Señor Senior, Sr. and Señor Senior, Jr.' (My father enjoyed some of my mental wanderings and would usually join in or even be the instigator; my sister Dale would groan, "just shut up already"; Jerry begs me to "please stop" (he'd say "shut up" but he never uses that expression.) 

DALE, OUR FATHER, ME, AND FOUR OF OUR COUSINS.
BELMONT LAKE STATE PARK, LONG ISLAND, 1955.

One of these days, I'll have to tell you about Doody's Farm Fresh Eggs in Branford, Connecticut — and Judy and Rudy Doody and the rest of the Doody family. But, I might have to hide that post from Jerry. I just about drove him over the edge with that one (he threatened to stop the car and make me walk home).

BACK TO TODAY'S STORY

Mr. Senior was a Jewish man originally from Eastern Europe. He painted houses and apartments in Brownsville, Brooklyn, in the '20s and '30s. One day, Mr. Senior was hired by Mrs. Krupnick to do some painting. She was also from somewhere in Eastern Europe. She gave him instructions in her heavily accented English and left Mr. Senior to do his work. When she got home she discovered that Mr. Senior had painted the entire apartment white. Mrs. Krupnick was furious.  

"But, vot did joo do?" she wailed. 

"Vot do you mean, vot did I do? Just like you tole me, I paint de houz," he replied. 

"But I din't vont you should paint de whole house!" she stormed. 

He looked at her and said, perplexed, "But Mrs. Krupnick, votta you talking gabout? You tole me, 'paint de whole vhite.' So I did." 

She said, "I din't mean paint de WHOLE vhite. I meant paint de WHOLE vhite. Just de WHOLE! De von to de bedrooms!" 

 Mr. Senior simply scratched his head.

NOTE: In Yiddish-American English, "hall" was pronounced "hole."

I always thought it was a funny joke and I loved the way my father did the accent. Then, when I was 10, we moved from Long Island to Brooklyn. It was a brand-new co-op and, coincidentally, a few people my parents knew from their childhoods in Brooklyn had also moved in. One day, when I was out for a walk with my father, we bumped into a little old man (thinking about it now, he was probably approaching 60!). My father,who was in his late 30s at the time, proudly introduced me to the man, saying, "This is Mr. Senior." I looked up in obvious surprise. Mr. Senior smiled at me and said knowingly, "De painter vas my older bruddah. He says it din't heppin like dat."

VEE PAINTED DE WHOLE TERRA COTTA, BUT JUST DE WHOLE.

In any case, our friend Miguel was here all last week to paint. And, although my Spanish may have confused him a few times, thankfully, he didn't paint the whole white. We love having color on the walls. White and off-white are beautiful, but they just don't fit our personalities. (Maybe we need something loud to drown out the noise in our heads.)

THROUGH THE ALCOVE AND BEYOND.

PAPIRO (PAPYRUS) AND ALBERO AMARILLO (MY NAMES FOR OUR COLORS).

IN MY NEXT LIFE, I'M GOING TO NAME PAINT COLORS FOR A LIVING.

ONE WALL OF THE DINING ROOM IS MORE BROWN AND LESS GOLD.
(TOO SUBTLE AND TOO DARK, SO WE SWITCHED TO PARCHMENT FOR THE REST.)

We had Miguel paint the "salon" (living room and dining room), the large alcove off the salon, the entry, and the kitchen (just a touch up there). We chose colors that sang to us and, not surprisingly, ended up with very Spanish/Sevillano colors. The gold on the walls is a dark version of "albero amarillo," the famed golden sand color of Southern Spain. The entrada (entry hall) is a rich terra cotta, like the tile roofs and much of the stucco in the city. We ended up choosing a parchment color for some of the walls in the living room and alcove, and a medium cork color for one wall in the dining room. We may have a bit in common with Mrs. Krupnick, however. The "hole" — the von to the bedrooms — is still vhite.

MOOSE AND DUDO, LOCKED IN THE "HOLE" AND BEDROOMS... AND NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.
MIGUEL WAS PAINTING THE WOODWORK ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR.

What Are You Gonna Do? Shoot Da Swans?

It's been hot. The temperature has hovered in the high 90s, low 100s Fahrenheit (35-40C). And the days have been a bit muggy at times (even some evenings). I had been looking forward to the break in the heat that was forecast for today and tomorrow. It came. It's only about 90F right now (32C), but with the pleasant new air currents came the unpleasant allergies. So, after returning from breakfast around noon today, we've been trying to relax in air-conditioned comfort. We'll get back out to enjoy the evening.

"DESE LOVELIES? MY SWANS GIRLS?"

— BARBRA STREISAND AS FANNY BRICE

In the meantime, we lounge and take turns putting hot cloths on our faces —which helps quite a bit. Anyway, our [saintly] friend Miguel painted some rooms for us during the week and I've been putting things back in place today (while San Geraldo takes his second siesta). Between that and my Spanish studies, I'm having a good time. Can't wait to have it all cleaned and put back together so I can share pictures with you of our now even more colorful lives.

A SWAN IN MY COFFEE? "IT'S ALL OVER FLUFFY VHITE."
THIS MORNING'S ACCIDENTAL ART BY FATIMA.

It's August in Sevilla (well, I think it's August everywhere else, unless the international date line has made it September... but I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way). August in Sevilla is extremely quiet. Many shops and restaurants shorten their hours or close completely for vacation. By Monday, we'll be the only people remaining in our building. All our neighbors will be at the beach for the rest of the month. The law office downstairs is closed for vacation. I'm thinking of doing some nude sunbathing on the roof. (No, I'm really not, Mom.) On some of our walks, we feel like the city has shut down. Except for the die-hard tourists, a walk in the park is truly a walk in the park right now. So, I took a walk in the park.

" OY... IT'S SOOOOOO HOT!!!"
IF THE DOWAGER DUCHESS WERE HERE, SHE'D BE WEEDING THIS GARDEN.

Maria Luisa Park is adjacent to the Plaza de España. It incorporates gardens, lakes, sculptures, fountains, wildlife, and some of the former pavilions of the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition. Jerry and I pedaled around the park when we were here for vacation/exploration in January 2011. It's too hot for me to enjoy covering it all right now (and too hot to pedal). So, I plan to make several brief visits to the park and the museums. Fortunately, there are a few ice cream vendors conveniently located. It's not gourmet but it will have to do.

SOMETHING FOR THE DOWAGER DUCHESS TO TRANSFORM INTO A WATERCOLOR.

SO MUCH COOLER BY A WATERFALL.

FUENTE DE LOS LEONES (FOUNTAIN OF THE LIONS)
DAMAGED BY VANDALS, THE ORIGINAL LIONS WERE REPLACED WITH COPIES IN 1957.

FUENTE DE LAS RANAS (FOUNTAIN OF THE FROGS).
OMG. THE WATER WAS LIKE SO TOADLY GREEN.

And The Winner Is

All the votes (mine) are in. The winner of the photo caption contest is... da da da da da da DAAAAAAA: The Owl Wood. San Geraldo thought he deserved to win on volume alone; but San Geraldo did not have a vote. The Owl Wood's keepers did tell me it might be good for his morale (and also that they could take no responsibility for what he might do if he lost). So, here's the photo with the winning caption.

MARJORIE HAD WON THE TOSS. MARJORIE GOT TO WEAR "THE GLOVE"
AND THERE WAS NOTHING THAT THE OTHERS COULD DO ABOUT IT.

I loved all the contributions. So, thanks to those of you who contributed and also commented. I wish I could send you all elegant gifts tacky souvenirs from Sevilla. But I'm just too cheap.

So, on their way some time next week from Sevilla, Spain, to The Owl Wood in England go two very rare (they've got to be one-of-a-kind at least) mementos of Sevilla. The first is a pair of castanets that I know The Owl Wood (a professional photographer) will keep with him at all times and will use skillfully at all future photo shoots.

AUTHENTIC SPANISH CASTANETS.
(PRINTED ON THE BOX: "THE BEST SOUVENIR OF SPAIN." SO IT MUST BE TRUE.)

The second valuable prize is a bola de nieve (snow globe) containing a flamenco dancer. The bottom of her dress forms the base for the snow globe (brilliantly clever). She could be hand-carved of rare Spanish marble or maybe even white jade. She could be. But she's not.

WINTER IN SEVILLA (WHERE IT DOESN'T SNOW).

The original photo — so creatively captioned by so many clever minds — was really from San Geraldo's cousin's wedding in 1966. That's (from left to right) Aunt Lillian, Grandma Gudrun, and San Geraldo's sister Linda (bridesmaid).

Thanks to Linda for kindly permitting me to use the photo (she's got no shame) and to Lillian and Grandma for being such good sports, as well. (They're no longer with us, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind.) Lillian was a lot more fun than that photo suggests and San Geraldo and Alice (his mother) — and everyone else — adored Grandma. So, although I never met her, I do too.

And in case you're wondering, Gudrun and Linda never did forgive Lillian for lauding it over them with that glove.

And, of course, special thanks to The Owl Wood for bringing so much laughter into this house!

Eating Moth Balls

When I was a kid, I had a favorite treat. Well, I suppose like all kids I had a number of favorite treats.

First came marshmallow peanuts — those artificially banana-flavored, peanut shaped, marshmallow goodies. Known as Circus Peanuts, they were the inspiration for the marshmallow treats in Lucky Charms cereal (a later favorite of mine).

After I ate too many Circus Peanuts one day and I discovered they weren't as pretty or as tasty coming back up, I moved on to Cocoa Krispies. The cereal had the magical power (to me) of changing plain milk to chocolate milk. But I liked them right out of the box. Until, that is, I ate too many and learned that they suffered the same limitations as Circus Peanuts.

I moved on to Froot Loops, which turned the milk into a rainbow, and I was still enjoying my Froot Loops for breakfast when I met Jerry. He stayed with me anyway. We have an old friend who has three bowls of Froot Loops each morning for breakfast. She says this means she starts her day with three servings of fruit (well, maybe she means froot).

SO MUCH TASTIER THAN ACTUAL MOTH BALLS (I'M GUESSING).

Around the same time I discovered Froot Loops, I also discovered "Moth Balls." At least that's what my sister called them. I don't think I knew until I was about 10 years old that what we were eating were actually called malted milk balls and not moth balls. I always thought it was strange that the same thing that made the closets smell so bad could taste so good (simply by being dipped in chocolate). Being much more mature (although, obviously, not the sharpest tack in the box) when I was introduced to malted milk balls, I didn't over-indulge. So, they remain a favorite.

WE GOT ELEGANCE.

As I mentioned in a previous post, my English Family (the tea connoisseurs) were not pleased when they learned I was making my tea in the microwave. Not only did they leave an electric tea kettle behind for our use, but they gave me my very own, elegant Diamond Jubilee "beaker." On their return home they mailed me a box of Maltesers (the English version of malted milk — aka, moth — balls). I boiled a cuppa and opened the box of Maltesers. I'm sure it was exactly like high tea at any of your finer hotels.

Photo Caption Contest (With a Prize)

San Geraldo has an amazing website for his family where he shares ancestry, photos, recordings, interviews, and other information. As you might remember, he's descended from kings (saints even) that include Ferdinand III of Spain (Saint Ferdinand the King) who is buried right here in the Cathedral of Sevilla. San Geraldo is an avid and thorough researcher constantly adding to his site new and fascinating information about the famous, infamous, and un-famous (and most-loved) of our families. Right now, he's uploading digitized versions of family slides taken by our fathers during the '50s and '60s. He came across one yesterday (obviously from his family) that had us both laughing.

So many captions come to mind, but I decided to offer a wonderful, expensive, tasteful, (all lies) — cheap and tacky souvenir of Sevilla (complete truth) — to the person who submits my favorite caption (which is not to say it's the best caption). So, how can you resist?

Gin and Sardines

San Geraldo and I were a bit down-in-the-dumps last night (no special reason, just low energy), so he suggested we have dinner at Gonzalo's restaurant, Catalina, to perk ourselves up. It worked. First of all, it was a cool night. The first in a very long time. Once we were outside, we even debated heading back upstairs to change into long pants. It wasn't necessary. But it sure was nice to consider it.

MY GIN AND TONIC (LEFT) ... AND ITS LITTLE BROTHER.
MIXED DRINKS ARE POURED AT THE TABLE. THERE WAS A LOT OF GIN.

We had a fairly brisk 10-minute walk to Catalina, arriving around 10:30. We then decided to join the rest of the patrons who were sitting outside enjoying the comfortable temps. Gonzalo was there and greeted us with warm hugs and kisses, which immediately made our world a good place again. We were both in the mood for a gin and tonic, known simply as "gin tonic" here. San Geraldo doesn't drink much. Two or three sips is usually his limit. The drinks are ginormous (a large goldfish would consider the goblet a very generously proportioned home). I suggested to San Geraldo that he just take a few sips from mine. But he really wanted his own, so we asked Gonzalo for a very small one for Jerry and the usual large one for me. He understood perfectly.

SARDINES AND PEPPERS ON A BASE OF RUSK, AVOCADO, AND SAUCE.

Gonzalo told us about the specials that weren't on the menu. He started with sardines and laughed when he saw the expression on my face. Sardines have always been right at the top of my list — alongside anchovies — under the heading "Fishy Fish I Don't Like." But, as you may remember, I love Gonzalo's anchovies. So, I figured if there is ever a chance of my liking sardines, it would be at Catalina. We ordered them. They were beautifully presented on a slab of black slate. A dollop of diced tomato and a dollop of sauce to the side. The large sardine was, as it had been described by Gonzalo, served on a crispy slice of rusk, with a layer of sauce and fresh avocado between. It was beautiful. It smelled delicious. I took a bite. It wasn't bad. If you like sardines. San Geraldo loved it. You can't win them all (although San Geraldo won this round and didn't have to share). To be honest, it was the best sardine I've ever tasted (and that's not saying much). I'll stick to anchovies, but only at Catalina. I cleansed my pallet with a swig of gin tonic.

PATATAS BRAVAS.

"Patatas bravas" is a classic tapas potato dish. The traditional version is fried in olive oil and served with a paprika sauce. To me, they're just potatoes in sauce. San Geraldo loves potatoes and he loves sauce. I can take or leave potatoes. However, I can't leave Catalina's patatas bravas. Gonzalo explained to us that his are baked at very low heat for hours to absorb the olive oil and herbs. They almost melt in your mouth. He told us they had run these as a special and customers were coming back weeks later asking for them. They're now a permanent addition. Once you've had patatas bravas at Catalina, there is no need to have them anywhere else.

COUS COUS.  KISS KISS.  AND HOME TO BED.

So, after more hugs and kisses, San Geraldo and I walked home happy as clams (which were also on the menu).

The Ceramic Monastery Museum and Gardens

Some of my recent posts have been all about the special exhibit at the Center for Contemporary Art here in Sevilla. You may remember that the property was originally a monastery built in the year 1400. Gardens, separate chapels, and other structures were added over the centuries that followed. And then, in the mid-1800s, the property was purchased by a Brit and a major ceramics factory was built amid the existing structures. Finally, in the late 20th century, it became the Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporáneo (Andalusian Center for Contemporary Art). Mostly gardens and structures this post... with just a tiny bit of art thrown in for good measure.

19TH-CENTURY FIRING OVENS (BRITISH STYLE).

ONE OF THE OVENS WITHIN A CONTEMPORARY GALLERY...  AND WITHOUT.
(ADELA IN BACKGROUND BROWSING THE EXHIBIT.)

THE CLAUSTRILLO ("LITTLE CLOISTER"). BUILT IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE 15TH CENTURY.

CHAPTER HOUSE, INTENDED FOR THE MONKS' MOST IMPORTANT MEETINGS.
CEDED AS BURIAL VAULT OF RIBERA FAMILY, MONASTERY PATRONS.
IT WAS A CARPENTRY WORKSHOP DURING FACTORY PERIOD (BODIES WERE MOVED OUT).

PART OF THE INTERIOR "SKYLINE."

THE 16TH CENTURY CHAPEL OF SANTA JUSTA AND SANTA RUFINA.
(REMADE INTO A GARDEN PAVILION DURING THE FACTORY PERIOD.)

ARTWORK: THE "BLACK PEARL" CURTAIN COVERING CHAPEL ENTRIES.

IT CREATES A WONDERFUL EFFECT FOR VIEWING MY FRIENDS.
(UNFORTUNATELY, IT'S MADE OF BLACK PLASTIC BEADS; NOT REAL PEARLS.)

THE BACK OF THE CHAPEL/GARDEN PAVILION.

ALMONDS ON A TREE.
NEAR A LARGE ORANGE ORCHARD (BITTER ORANGES FOR MARMALADE).

TOWER AND TWO (DECEASED) WATER WHEELS THAT USED TO PROVIDE WATER TO GARDENS.
THE GARDENS ARE IN NEED OF AN INFUSION OF MONEY.

SADLY, THE WATER WHEELS WEREN'T THE ONLY THINGS DECEASED THAT DAY.
(TWO MOURNING DOVES FLOATING IN THE STAGNANT WATER.)
SEVILLA'S NEW 40-STORY OFFICE TOWER RISING IN DISTANCE.

THE TREE, HERB, OR PLANT CALLED PHYTOLACCA DIOICA OR, SIMPLY, OMBU.
THOUGHT TO HAVE BEEN PLANTED BY THE SON OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
(WHEN COLUMBUS'S REMAINS WERE KEPT AT THE MONASTERY).
ITS TOXIC SAP MAKES IT IMMUNE TO INSECTS.