As you might have noticed, it was hard to tell where we were last week. We were obviously by the sea and there was a tropical feel. Here are a couple of more photos that might yield some more clues:

Does this help? If you have actually been in the town where we stayed, you would probably recognize it.

If I told you that this was Alphonso XII would you know where it is? He was the King of Spain and he came here to Nerjas after an earthquake and renamed the area where his statue is, The Balcony of Europe.

Nerjas is a town in southern Spain, right on the Mediterranian Sea not far from Malaga which is where we were. I had never heard of it before but Maurice’s son was there visiting his girlfriend so we made a trip. It turned out to be a really nice town. It has an interesting old town, a little beach and is a good setting out point to explore Andalucia in the southern part of Spain.

I’m sure you would have guessed Spain if I had put this photo up first.

And this would have been an easy clue too. We ate alot of Tapas. There are either a sort of hors d’ouvres or a small plate of food. It is a fun way to taste many different types of dishes while in Spain. I drank a lot of Sangria as well.

We stayed at a nice hotel but they must have had a special deal going with the countries of Germany and England because it was packed with mainly old people from there. After having visited England I can see why the English would flock to Spain. The prices are so much less expensive. At first Maurice and I felt really young and wondered why everyone was so old but then realized that we were probably about the median age there. The hotel had an enormous breakfast buffet and every morning I would sit there and look at people, killing time as Maurice ate his huge breakfast-I am not a breakfast person and was done in five minutes after some cereal and fruit. Many of the German men were tall, with gray hair and glasses and reminded me of the photos in the newspapers of that awful Austrian man who had kept his daughter locked up for 24 years. And there was the German lady, so well dressed in the mornings and sporting a spectacular tan which she gained while sunning out by the pool all day topless on her lounger. Many of the English people would give quick little looks as they walked by her at the pool. And there was a strange little English man wearing screaminly yellow short pants with a strange hair do that I called “The Pouf”. He grew his hair long at the neck and, somehow, I guess with hairspray, had it brought up over the back of his head to the front to cover a bald spot. Donald Trump looks good next to him. It was so awful I got so I couldn’t bear to look at it. Two days at the hotel we spent lounging by the pool but three others we spent exploring Andalucia. I will share some photos in the next posts.

Maurice and I have been away for a week. See if you can guess where we were by these photos:

What? You can’t guess from this? They are everywhere.

These were everywhere.

A killer view

Picturesque streets

I will post some more photos next time and see if you can guess.

It isn’t only us everyday folk who hope to publish books. Even Napoleon wanted to as seen by this article from Paris. (I don’t know why, but I can picture Sarkosy doing this too.)

PARIS (Dec. 2) - A single manuscript page from a love story written by Napoleon Bonaparte sold at auction in France on Sunday for $35,400, an auction house said.

The item up for sale was the first page of the final draft of Napoleon’s 1795 short novel “Clisson and Eugenie,” said the Osenat auction house, based in Fontainebleau outside Paris.The page had been part of a private French family collection. The identity of the buyer was not disclosed.

The novel, never published in Napoleon’s lifetime, was loosely based on the author’s brief romance with Desiree Clary, the sister of his brother’s wife.

Scholars only realized the page’s significance recently. It was long believed to be a page from a text Napoleon wrote about a historical figure named Clissot until Peter Hicks, a historian at the Fondation Napoleon, realized it was the beginning of his novel.

Part of the confusion was Napoleon’s messy writing.

“Clisson and Eugenie,” only 22 pages in its original handwritten form, was written when Napoleon was a 26-year-old general. Afterward, Napoleon turned his attention to political matters.
The page had been part of a private French family collection. The identity of the buyer was not disclosed.

Sideroads of Europe

Just about everything, in some way, is different in France. Now, of course, their beds are similar to ours, there are just differences, even in sizes. They don’t have box springs, for instance, but flat, narrow platforms with small wooden slats that are convex and it seems to do the same sort of job to me. There are no wheels underneath, but straight legs. I brought some of my box springs with me to France and they all have wheels. I used to think this was great but here they slip and slide all over the place on our wooden floors, moving even when you sit down on them. I had a horrible time finding some sort of flat little rubber containers to go underneath and, in fact, finally had to buy some in the States.

The French aren’t as big on dust ruffles either and I ended up bringing those back from the States as well. I will say that they can be a little difficult when the matress moves around when someone sleeps in the bed and, when the duvet cover is tucked under at the end, everyone but me also tucks in the dust ruffle at the end of the bed-not a pretty site.
I had never used duvets before I came here. They are fluffy bed coverings, very warm in the winter, that are tucked into large envelope type covers, rather like putting a pillow into a pillow case, and that becomes the bedspread.They are a pain to get the duvet into its cover-it takes all sorts of pushing and pulling and fluffing.

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When I moved here, I put a top sheet underneath as this was the way I was used to doing things-putting sheets under bedspreads. The French don’t do this, but just use the duvet. The problem with this is that the duvet cover has to be washed and then you have to do the wrestling thing again getting it all put together. I do see people, usually on the week-ends, with their duvets laying across the bottom of the open window being aired. I haven’t done this as of yet as my windows are filthy on the outside frames. I do know that it is the habit here, and in other European countries, to pull back the duvet and open the window for a while every morning so everything airs out. Some people even put a mirror on the bed to see if it fogs up, a sign that it hasn’t aired out enough. I must admit, I never thought of this. I just washed the sheets when I thought they needed it. I’ve been trying to leave the duvet turned down for a while every morning so everything thing is as dry as possible. Sometimes, I even open the window to help the process.

I have returned to putting a top sheet under the duvet on our queen sized bed. I like keeping our duvet cover as clean as possible so I am not always washing it, and when it gets too hot, the sheet is nice when we push the duvet to the bottom of the bed.

My other blog: Sideroads of Europe

Remember that scene in the movie by Barbra Streisand, The Face in the Mirror, where she is at a restaurant and very carefully makes a little pile on her fork of food from her plate make the perfect combo? It’s not the best movie I’ve ever seen but I liked it and what it had to say about beauty. Anyway, I have had the perfect bite a couple of times. The first time was in Paris when I ordered a Salade Chevre Chaud-a salad with warm goat cheese. So, onto my fork I pushed some lettuce covered with tangy vinagarette, a piece of tomato, a walnut, and the warm cheese on top of a piece of crunchy toast. It was such a great explosion of flavors in my mouth-the acid tang of tomato, the warm soft cheese with the crunch of toast and snap of the slightly bitter walnut, the warm cheese binding it all together-it was all a little piece of heaven. I also like salty and sweet together as in dates with bacon or a cheese with a sweet jam. And, then there is Thanksgiving, where into one bite are the flavors of turkey, stuffing, mashed potato and gravy topped with a small amount of cranberry sauce. Eating can be such a fun adventure.

(A repeat as I am on a trip)

My other blog: Sideroads of Europe

One day Maurice came home with the information that he had just purchased tickets for a concert of music from Argentina, something I know very little about except that it often has a tango music influence. In fact, years ago I went with Maurice on a business trip to Argentina and we saw tangos done in the street. Anyway, I was happy to go especially since it was taking place in the nearby chateau of la Tour d’Aigues.

It was once a really love place as shown in old prints, rather Italian in flavor, but destroyed during the French Revolution which seems like a shame to me. Why destroy beauty? I’ve seen door and windows around the town which were probably taken from the ruins.

It is slowly being restored but probably not much more that it is now. In the summer there are concerts outside with the grounds, a very nice place to be.

Our concert was inside the chateau as it is still chilly in the evenings, down deep inside and under of what remains outside. We were in what I would call a cave, a room with a round ceiling with perfect acoustics.

The hall entering the cave that I didn’t get a photo of.

We arrived a little early and sat down. A man in front of us was asked to move and he went balistic and started shouting. The room went dead silent. He obviously wasn’t going to move. I decided that he was mentally unbalanced and was hoping that he would keep quiet during the concert and that the music would sooth the savage beast, so to speak. When a man got up front to introduce the musicians, the crazy man started yelling at him. It was very uncomfortable. Luckily for all of us, he left after the first song.

A victory angel above the door of the chateau.

The musical group, Milontango, was a trio of women from Nice, one Italian, one German and one Argentenian which I thought was interesting. There was a piano, bass fiddle and a flute. They were really very good and the music was great.

While I was sitting there listening I could help but go back to all of the many concerts I attended with my exhusband. He was a musician and loved music. I knew very little other than the rock and roll I grew up with, Elvis and Ricky Nelson being just two. In college I was required to take a music appreciation class, all classical music as it turned out. Our final was to listen to just a portion of a record (way before tapes and CD’s) and be able to tell who the composer was. I had to spend a lot of time in the library trying to learn how to do that. I got so I could actually tell if it was Chopin or Bach, their music being rather like hand writing with a distinct sound. It still is with me years later and I can use that knowledge when I listen to classical music on the radio, which isn’t very often to tell the truth. Anyway, I sat through many operas and symphonies and even attented every single night of a famous piano competition in Fort Worth. Maurice likes an occasional classical concert. Back when we first started dating, we went to hear a sympony. This is where I found out that he often sleeps during concerts–movies too.

The name of the group was Milontango and here is a link to their website: Milontango They were very accomplished to my amateur ear and it was a great night.