La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
We weren’t permitted to turn left into the parking garage, so San Geraldo continued toward the roundabout where I assumed he would circle back. As he rounded the roundabout, it was obvious he wasn’t going to circle back. I quickly said as I pointed, “You have to go back there!” He obeyed, missing the roundabout and driving over a triangular median in the road as I yelled, “There’s a curb!” Matt and Lindy moaned, “No!” from the backseat. But it was too late. SG was able to reverse off the median. Lindy told me later she was sure we were going to need a tow. No damage done.
After we parked, we began our climb up through the old village. San Geraldo’s feet were bothering him, so after we climbed the first set of stairs, he pointed to the right and said, “I’ll just have a cup of coffee and wait down here.” We made our way almost to the top where that wonderful watercolorist lives and has his studio. I bought a painting for San Geraldo (click here).
The rest of my story is quite long. If you don’t want to bother reading it all, here it is in a nutshell: When we were in Frigiliana, San Geraldo was supposed to be having coffee in a certain direction so we could meet him after we climbed the town. He wasn’t there, nor anywhere else we looked. He didn’t have his phone. He finally showed up. He was on my shitlist. Now, if you want the long version (what my brother-in-law Tom would call the Michener version), keep reading. Otherwise, just skip to the pictures.
On our return we looked where we thought SG would be. Not there. I phoned him. No answer. I knew then he hadn’t brought his phone. I muttered and swore. Matt and I climbed back and forth in all directions several times and couldn’t find him. I worried a bit. What if he had had a heart attack and was taken away in an ambulance?
Finally, I went to the garage. The door we exited was locked. Exit only. I found an elevator. That took me to private parking. Matt phoned. SG had shown up. He had been sitting in one of several cafes atop the garage — completely hidden from our view unless we crossed the street (by that triangular median) and walked around a building. Finally, he got up and walked back to where we had parted company and spotted Matt and Lindy. I caught up with them. SG apologized humbly and profusely. He had waited a long time for service at the place he had pointed out to us. It never came. He then expected us to be gone longer.
I asked a waiter nearby where the pedestrian entrance to the garage was (there were no signs). He told me. We walked down. I had to pay the parking fee at a machine (there were no signs). I walked down a ramp. I asked someone and was directed up a flight of stairs. When I came back down, I turned right and walked half the length of the parking row (passing about 10 cars). The car was gone. I heard Matt calling my name. San Geraldo had decided to pull up closer, about 4 cars in the opposite direction from the stairway. Now why would I look there when I came back down the stairs?!? I got in the car and told San Geraldo I bought him a gift but I wasn’t in the mood to give it to him just then.
He later told me — after he thought it was safe — that while they were waiting for me to come up from the private parking, he had told Matt and Lindy he had a delicious sandwich, sat in the shade with a beautiful breeze, and truly relaxed and enjoyed himself. Matt told him, “I think maybe when you see Mitchell, you shouldn’t tell him.”
.
No se nos permitió girar a la izquierda hacia el estacionamiento, por lo que San Geraldo continuó hacia la rotonda donde supuse que daría la vuelta. Cuando dio la vuelta a la rotonda, era obvio que no iba a dar la vuelta. Rápidamente dije mientras señalaba: “¡Tienes que volver allí!” Obedeció, se saltó la rotonda y pasó por encima de una mediana triangular en la carretera mientras yo gritaba: “¡Hay un bordillo!”. Matt y Lindy gimieron: “¡No!” desde el asiento trasero. Pero fue demasiado tarde. SG pudo revertir la mediana. Lindy me dijo más tarde que estaba segura de que íbamos a necesitar un remolque. Ningún daño hecho.
Después de estacionar, comenzamos a subir a través del antiguo pueblo. A San Geraldo le molestaban los pies, así que después de subir el primer tramo de escaleras, señaló a la derecha y dijo: “Tomaré una taza de café y esperaré aquí abajo”. Llegamos casi hasta la cima donde vive y tiene su estudio ese maravilloso acuarelista. Compré un aquarela para San Geraldo (clic aquí).
El resto de mi historia es bastante larga. Si no quieres molestarte en leerlo todo, aquí está en pocas palabras: cuando estábamos en Frigiliana, se suponía que San Geraldo estaba tomando café en cierta dirección para que pudiéramos encontrarlo después de escalar el pueblo. No estaba allí, ni en ningún otro lugar donde miramos. No tenía su teléfono. Finalmente apareció. Estaba en mi lista negra. Ahora, si quieres la versión larga (lo que mi cuñado Tom llamaría la versión Michener), sigue leyendo. De lo contrario, salte a las imágenes.
A nuestro regreso miramos donde pensábamos que estaría SG. No ahí. Lo llamé. Sin respuesta. Entonces supe que no había traído su teléfono. Murmuré y maldije. Matt y yo trepamos de un lado a otro en todas direcciones varias veces y no pudimos encontrarlo. Me preocupé un poco. ¿Y si hubiera tenido un infarto y se lo llevaran en ambulancia?
Finalmente, fui al garaje. La puerta por la que salimos estaba cerrada. Sólo salida. Encontré un ascensor. Eso me llevó al estacionamiento privado. Matt llamó. SG había aparecido. Había estado sentado en uno de varios cafés encima del garaje, completamente oculto a nuestra vista a menos que cruzáramos la calle (por esa mediana triangular) y camináramos alrededor de un edificio. Finalmente, se levantó y caminó de regreso a donde nos habíamos separado y vio a Matt y Lindy. Los alcancé. SG se disculpó humilde y profusamente. Había esperado mucho tiempo para ser atendido en el lugar que nos había indicado. Nunca llegó. Luego esperaba que nos fuéramos por más tiempo.
Le pregunté a un camarero cercano dónde estaba la entrada peatonal al garaje. Me dijo. Caminamos hacia abajo. Tuve que pagar la tarifa de estacionamiento en nuestro mismo nivel. Solo que no lo fue. Le pregunté a alguien y me dirigieron por un tramo de escaleras. Cuando volví a bajar, giré a la derecha y caminé la mitad de la longitud de la fila de estacionamiento (pasando alrededor de 10 autos). El coche se había ido. Me di la vuelta y escuché a Matt decir mi nombre. San Geraldo había decidido detenerse más cerca, unos 4 autos en dirección opuesta a la escalera. ¿¡¿Por qué miraría allí cuando volviera a bajar las escaleras?!? Me subí al auto y le dije a San Geraldo que le compré un regalo pero que no estaba de humor para dárselo en ese momento.
Más tarde SG me dijo, después de que pensó que era seguro, que mientras esperaban que subiera del estacionamiento privado, les había dicho a Matt y Lindy que tenía un sándwich delicioso, se sentó a la sombra con una brisa hermosa y realmente se relajó y disfrutó. Matt le dijo: “Creo que tal vez cuando veas a Mitchell, no deberías decírselo”.

• La rotonda (derecha), la mediana (centro) y Matt, Lindy y SG comenzando a subir las escaleras.



• Lindy felizmente explorando.



• Reformas con vistas.

• El estudio de Klaus Hinkel no estaba abierto porque descargaron su auto. Él regresó mientras estábamos allí y abrió momentáneamente para nosotros cuando vio que ambos estábamos listos para comprar.



Click the thumbnails to enlarge.
Haz clic en las miniaturas para ampliar.
A gain, take the SG out and replace it with Carlos and this could be a story of mine.
I giggled and laughed, then realized had it been a story of mine I would be in no mood for giggles and laughter!!!
Bob:
Like Carlos, a lot of brilliance packed into unintentional entertainment (after the fact).
I can just imagine your face by the end of all that 🤣! Jx
PS It’s not “Frig-lee-anna”, but you don’t say how it actually is pronounced… [NB I get frustrated at people calling our regular resort “BenalmadEEna” instead of BenalMADena.]
Jon:
I accidentally deleted my explanation of the correct pronunciation of Frigiliana. Oh well. Oh, BenalmaDEEna drives us nuts, too. And MaLAHga. Oh, and Al-MARY-ah and Ten-a-REEFY.
It is a good thing we love them, otherwise there would be ructions.
David:
I did a lot of extra climbing and descending that day. Great workout.
Such an interesting story 🙂 And a typical couple’s argument, at least from where I’m sitting. Glad you all managed to reconvene eventually, heh. Lovely photos of Frigiliana, another town I’d love to visit some day. Some day…..
tobyo:
Frigiliana is beautiful… and so is SG.
💜
Gorgeous place, that Frigiliana!
(I feel like there was a previous story, a while back, that involved not being able to catch up with SG and the phone having been forgotten? Oy.)
Judy C:
Oh, I’m sure there was a previous story. We usually go through the list when we leave the house: Keys, glasses, wallet? I have to add phone.
Lovely pix; lovely place.
Wicked Hamster:
Only our second time in Frigiliana. So worth the drive.
Alas, sounds like it was “one of those days.”
Debra:
All told, it was a very pleasant day. And San Geraldo lived to hear me tell of it.
Curiously, it’s spelled Frigiliana, but it’s pronounced “seacaucus”.
Wicked Hamster:
had written out the pronunciation and accidentally deleted it. Thanks to you, I don’t have to add it back in.
Oh, boy! Balder Half would be in the doghouse so long he’d have squatters’ rights! The Cliff notes version lacked the juice of the longer one. Give me the long one every time.
“Give me the long one every time.” That’s what he said last night too!!!!!
Mistress Borghese:
Any size can have juice.
Deedles:
SG was in the dog house for about a half hour. Long or short. Both can be juicy.
I read every word. It seems to me SG’s cardinal sin was not taking his phone with him so you could communicate. All that drama could have been averted with a simple phone call or two.
I’m glad the car wasn’t damaged on the median. Seeing the photo I can understand how someone might drive over it. It’s pretty inconspicuous.
I love the paving of the steps between those whitewashed walls. So scenic!
Steve:
Exactly. SG and I talked the other day about the fact that had he had his phone, none of this would have been a problem. Those walkway steps are hand done. One stone at a time. We watched artisans repairing plazas in Sevilla.
I would have been miffed at him, too. That’s a beautiful location, but so much up and down! Does walking places like that cause you a lot of pain with your sciatica? I’m not sure my legs could handle it.
Kelly:
I’m never quite sure where or how bad the pain will be. It’s lately very manageable. It used to be the case that walking felt great and lying in bed did not. Lately, that hasn’t been the case. But the climb that day was wonderful.
Sounds like SG had the best time of all, though he probably doesn’t realize how close he came to having his blood hosed out of your car, LOL!
Tundra Bunny:
I should clip his mobile phone to his wrist. Like mittens.
If I ever did move to there…I could MOST definitely make myself at home in this town and these homes. Beautiful, chic, yet old world. Love this post…except for poor San Geraldo mishaps, lol!!!!!!!!!
Mistress Borghese:
Sorry no photos of the inside of the studio. The houses on the upside of the street are built into the rock. Bare rock walls inside. Spectacular.
What curb!!?? LOL This reminds me of the first time Ron and I drove into the city together as a couple…..remember he grew up in a small town that did not have traffic lights.
He came to the first set of red lights, stopped and then drove right threw. When asked why he did that he said that there were no other cars around…..why wait!?
What a quaint little town that is. Love the photos!
Jim:
Hah! I love the influence of Ron’s upbringing on his driving rules. I had a friend at university who grew up in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. She hadn’t learned to parallel park because they “didn’t have that” where she came from.