Today was a rainy fall day, much cooler (in the 50s) and complete with lighting and thunder in the morning. I handled the whole thing beautifully, by working in the dark of the morning, and then going back to sleep until 11.
As far as I can tell, I missed nothing of significance. I would be happy to work until the wee hours and sleep until 11 here; why on Earth not? The whole place is structured to benefit this clever behavior.
We went out at midday, armed with warmies and umbrellas, and headed for a tea and sweet shop that Doriot had on her mighty List. It was exquisite, and in addition to having a bay window table loaded with confections, served delights from various Spanish monestaries, nunneries and cloisters.
We contemplated the many monk-brewed liquors (Bill! I must bring you one!) but in the end went for a couple of tall, intense Kir cocktails and a couple of slices of toast with monk-cheese, monk-roasted peppers, and monk-dried tomatoes.
The air of monkish delight did not extend to the rather unpleasant woman who ran the shop attached to the tea-shop; she told me, in essence, that all views of the items in the shop were exclusively for herself, and those who purchased them. And I thought, yes, it would be terrible for you if people posted beautiful photographs of your wares, and encouraged others to come to your shop and buy them. Unacceptable.
I did, however, manage this one beautiful shot. I hope you enjoy this premium view as much as I did.
After Kir and monktoast, we went out into the light rain in search of a herb-shop called Herboristeria del Rey that Doriot wanted to find; they sell soap and oils and loose herbs and flowers, things like that.
We circled it wetly for a while, during which time several exquisite items of clothing were purchased, and then located it just off of an arm of the Doriot-named Suspicion Plaza, the square surrounded by arched colonnades, and lined with white-jacketed waiters with menus, attempting to lure diners to their tables.
Above, a view of one side of the plaza, below, the owner of del Rey, charming, cultured.
He said, gently, with a smile, “This shop is a museum.”
After soaps were secured, we found fresh pasta, and made our way home for siesta.
Pokemon-like creatures are everywhere on the walls. But I’ve only seen one sword-swallower.