The cowboy and the hooker / El vaquero y la prostituta

La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.

I MET OLD JESSICA FOR a drink yesterday afternoon at Mesón Salvador. She told me to stop referring to her as Old Jessica, so this might be (might be) the last time I write that. Admittedly, I wouldn’t want anyone referring to me as Old Mitch, but then I’m borderline old and she’s nowhere near the border.

Jessica, as always, looked spectacular and I’m sorry I didn’t take pictures. But we were too busy talking. [For those of you who don’t know: Jessica was my first English student in Fuengirola. And Jesica (also not old) is my most recent English student in Fuengirola. The name is a requirement if you want to study with me.] It was a great visit. Jessica has been in the rare position lately of turning down unsolicited job offers. Her career is thriving. And it’s all deserved. So happy for her. It was drizzling when we met, but a blue sky appeared while we chatted.

I walked with her back to her car to find an event about to begin on our recently updated plaza. I take back most of what I originally said about the plaza being sterile. In addition, the new open space is great for holding all kinds of events. Yesterday’s was in honor of World Environment Day 2021. Booths were being set up and a DJ was getting the music going. Great music. Way too loud — no matter what your age. To experience it for yourself, play today’s video at the highest volume your speakers will allow before they blow; it had the same effect on ears. I’m glad we don’t live on the plaza (and, oh, the few poor hotel guests).

San Geraldo and I went out Thursday night to Santorini, our favorite Greek restaurant. The cats are so unused to us being out in the evening that they both anxiously awaited our return. Oh, wait, it was after 11 and that’s their late-night treat time! Dudo, usually graceful and elegant, froze for a few minutes in a position that reminded me of a cowboy ready for a shoot-out.

The other evening, two mourning doves landed on the ledge. I managed to sneak a few photos before Moose could no longer contain himself and scared them away.

I don’t think I ever told you about my parents’ neighbor (different section and floor of the building) who was kicked out of the co-op in the 1970s for running a brothel. Check out today’s final photo and you’ll see what has me wondering about our neighbors on the 2nd floor..

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AYER POR LA TARDE CONOCÍ a la Vieja Jessica para tomar una copa en el Mesón Salvador. Me dijo que dejara de referirme a ella como la Vieja Jessica, por lo que esta podría ser (podría ser) la última vez que escriba eso. Es cierto que no me gustaría que nadie se refiriera a mí como Viejo Mitch, pero yo soy casi viejo y ella no está cerca de la frontera. [NOTA: Me han enseñado que en español, “vieja amiga” significa una amiga de muchos años, mientras que “amiga vieja” significa una amiga que es vieja. Sin embargo, no todos los españoles están de acuerdo].

Jessica, como siempre, se veía espectacular y lamento no haber tomado algunas fotos. Pero estábamos demasiado ocupados hablando. [Para los que no lo sepan: Jessica fue mi primera estudiante de inglés en Fuengirola. Y Jesica (que tampoco es mayor) es mi estudiante de inglés más reciente en Fuengirola. El nombre es un requisito si quieres estudiar conmigo.] Fue una gran visita. Jessica ha estado últimamente en la rara posición de rechazar ofertas de trabajo no solicitadas. Su carrera prospera. Y todo se lo merece. Muy feliz por ella. Lloviznaba cuando nos conocimos, pero apareció un cielo azul mientras charlábamos.

Caminé con ella a su coche para encontrar un evento a punto de comenzar en nuestra plaza recientemente renovada. Retiro la mayor parte de lo que dije originalmente acerca de que la plaza es estéril. Además, el nuevo espacio abierto es ideal para la celebración de todo tipo de eventos. El de ayer fue en honor al Día Mundial del Medio Ambiente 2021. Se estaban instalando cabinas y un DJ estaba poniendo la música. Buena música. Demasiado fuerte, sin importar tu edad. Para experimentarlo por sí mismo, reproduzca el video de hoy al volumen más alto que sus altavoces permitan antes de que soplar; tuvo el mismo efecto en los oídos. Me alegro de que no vivamos en la plaza (y, oh, los pocos huéspedes pobres del hotel).

San Geraldo y yo fuimos el jueves por la noche a Santorini, nuestro restaurante griego favorito. Los gatos no están acostumbrados a que salgamos por la noche que ambos esperaban ansiosamente nuestro regreso. ¡Oh, espera, eran después de las 11 y ese es su momento de aperetivos a altas horas de la noche! Dudo, usualmente gracioso y elegante, se quedó paralizado durante unos minutos en una posición que me recordó a un vaquero listo para un tiroteo.

La otra noche, dos palomas de luto aterrizaron en la cornisa. Me las arreglé para escabullir algunas fotos antes de que Moose ya no pudiera contenerse y los espantara.

Creo que nunca les hablé de una vecina de mis padres (una sección y un piso diferentes del edificio) que fue expulsada de la cooperativa en la década de 1970 por administrar un burdel. Echa un vistazo a la foto final de hoy y verás qué me hace pensar en nuestros vecinos.

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Author: Moving with Mitchell

From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..

26 thoughts on “The cowboy and the hooker / El vaquero y la prostituta”

  1. If the cats were better armed you’d be home with treats on time. She’s missing a shoe!

  2. My first thought upon seeing Dudo’s face was that he was saying, You Bastard! After realizing you missed his treat, I guess I was correct.

    As for the doll…not a blow up one, I gather…with her messy hair and missing shoe. Yowza, that is a True Confession’s story in the making.

    1. Mary:
      You’re right about Dudo. I wasn’t very quick on the uptake. But I did catch on. The couple in that apartment own a hair salon. It must be a cover.

    1. Wilma:
      It IS great seeing the plaza being used. Too bad about the volume of the music. I just don’t get that (the City even has a measure you can’t go above… and it’s intolerable). The flowers towers and planters have, so far, been beautifully maintained. They may be even easier to maintain than the in-ground gardens.

  3. You should have submitted that picture of the cats looking at the doves with the beach in the back to Squire John’s What’s out Your Window posts. I sent one in of a mourning dove myself.

    1. Mistress Borghese:
      I know! But John had already taken off for a few days and I think is done with the window views. I had sent two of beach views previously.

  4. Oh those two doves made the cats’ day!! I can hear them ‘chattering’!
    That must be ‘Mediterranean Barbie’ !
    Great music and good to see a few dancing.

    1. Jim:
      Mediterranean Barbie! I love it. I looked from the terrace at night and there was a lot of dancing going on and even a live performance (which didn’t sound all that great from here). I was going to go down for some photos, but I couldn’t find my earplugs.

  5. Yikes, that music would realllly bug me. Well, so would that doll (for so many reasons).
    But, Moose and Dudo…. love those guys!

    1. Judy C:
      Yeah, that doll pushed all my wrong buttons. I don’t get it with the music volume. I would actually leave bars when I was in college because the music was too loud. There was a disco I loved, but I couldn’t last more than a half hour. I remember having a ringing in my ears for days sometimes. Even Bruce Springstein! I saw him and the E Street Band in the mid-70s (incredible) but thought I had suffered permanent hearing loss for several days.

  6. Dudo definitely looks pissed, LOL! If your neighbours don’t have kids, that makes the doll even creepier… yikes.

    1. Tundra Bunny:
      Yeah, that doll is creepy no matter what. But they do have two daughters under the age of 7.

  7. I had to do some Wikipedia research about these birds as I was confused between the French and English names. Turtle doves are called “tourterelles” in French. Mourning doves are called “tourterelles tristes” (sad turtle doves). You can understand my confusion. So it turns out that the birds I’ve been calling turtle doves all these years are actually mourning doves. Sad.

    1. Oh wait. Now I’m seeing that the sad turtle doves are American. What I’m seeing in our neighborhood are likely Turkish turtle doves or collard turtle doves. Not sure which. My confusion remains intact. Now what will I get on the second day of Christmas?

      1. Walt the Fourth:
        Colored. What color were they? Speaking of which, I made an assumption that these were mourning doves. We apparently could have a few other types of doves here. I’ll have to get a better look and then I’ll let you know. One of the features, by the way, is the collar.

  8. I hope more people eventually turned up for World Environment Day. It’s looking a little sparse!

    I’m guessing your neighbors are NOT hairdressers.

    1. Steve:
      It got much busier. I was there during set-up and didn’t go back down later at night (it ran until midnight) because I couldn’t find my earplugs.

    1. Urspo:
      Oh, poor kid! I always wanted a fun nickname that stuck. Baby Mitchell was not on the list. I commonly go by Mitch. Here in Spain, people say, “Ah, like Mitch Buchannon!” (David Hasselhoff in Baywatch)

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