My lady and I went up to Mijas Pueblo last week. It's known as the White Village on account of the fact that all buildings are painted white. Its a very old place, full of charm. Donkeys pull carriages that tourists travel around in. I always feel so sorry for these animals (the donkeys, not the tourists) because it's so hot at this time of year and they pull a fair old weight. Imagine, a driver and up to four people. We went to get me a new leather wallet. My old one is so old we found Roman coins in the pouch. Mijas has many leather goods shops, and I found what I was looking for, and to my mind got a good bargain. There is a wide vaiety of shops there and one that particularly interested me was a cafe called 'The Chocolate Factory'. It has featured on BBC TV. They sell home made chocolates, and there is a mini factory there where, for a price, you can make your own. We had a hot chocolate, coffees, and a brownie. A bit expensive, and the service is a wee bit scatty, mainly because its a family affair, and they're not too well organised, but in a nice way.
My grand daughter and her pal are staying with us at the moment. Two 19 year olds. My garden now is adorned with many empty and half full glasses, discarded sarongs and swim suits, plus an assortment of fashion/girlie magazines, three pairs of sunglasses, empty crisp packets, half empty sun tan lotion bottles, and similar items. Those of you that have young women staying know what I'm saying........
My grand daughter did, in her best Spanish, which she'd copied down on a sheet of paper, ask for directions once, after they got off the train in Malaga, the lady she asked was totally perplexed, and my grand daughter later realised that she'd asked for a recipe for Yorkshire Pudding.
I usually take the girls to the clubbing area (that's musical drinking clubs, not cavemen exercise area's) around 11 o'clock and they normally stagger back to our villa around 5 or 6 am. Yesterday I took them to the train station and they caught the train to Malaga to see the sights. I expected them to take in Picasso's Museum etc., but when I picked them up they had only made it to the mall, and came home with lots of bags containing Stradivarius clothing products etc! I guess that 'culture' to them means something akin to Boy George and the like.
Incidentally the trains here are still quite good. Clean and normally on time. Unfortunately, since they were privatised, fares have gone up, maintenance reduced, and staff numbers slashed. We Brits know all about that, don't we?
My grand daughter remarked at how loud the Spanish talk, even when standing next to each other. It's a common trait. Of course, we can't talk as loud as them, we have centuries of fog in our throats. Her friend is a bit paranoid about foreigners, she thinks they all speak English behind our backs. My grand daughter loves Spain but she's not so keen on the bacon in their bacon sandwiches. She is, of course, blonde. For example she thinks that all Shakespeare did was to string together a lot of old and well-known quotations. She starts Uni at Brighton in September.....you Brighton academics have been warned.
A Spanish friend of mine said that he was always puzzled by something. He considered that I was completely honest yet I could write some great novels about villains, thieves, crooks, and serial killers......
One thing the Spanish can't do is make decent soup. It always tastes as if it's been drained out of an old rubber boot.
As I told my son on the phone yesterday, I want to die peacefully in my sleep like my grand father, not screaming and shouting like his passengers........
Hasta Pronto