Thirty-four years ago today, I met San Geraldo. At that time, I didn’t know he was a saint. Nor did I know he was descended from an actual saint (King Ferdinand III), and from a multitude of kings and queens (Eleanor of Aquitaine, for one).
To tell the truth, especially in our first months together, if anyone had told me “Jerry” was I saint, I would have laughed. Well, OK, if anyone now misses my sense of irony in these saintly references, I still laugh. However, I did immediately know somehow that whatever his flaws (and there are so few), he would be worth every minute we would spend together. If you haven’t been keeping up, click here for our history.
HALFWAY THERE (HERE?).
SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO IN BERGEN NORWAY.
We’re supposed to be at Sandpiper’s Restaurant in Fuengirola tonight celebrating our 34th anniversary in the company of our wonderful friends. But, since the Dowager Duchess had other ideas (not within her control) about where we should be for the summer, we’re spending a quiet evening in her apartment (while she continues to make strides at Rehab). San Geraldo will cook dinner (pesto chicken and pasta) and I will gladly clean up the mess he makes in the kitchen.
I’m hoping to get back to reading and writing more regularly. Meanwhile, all my attention tonight will be focused on San Geraldo… with gratitude for these 34 years of love and adventure (and punchlines).
My previous Córdoba post (click here) focused on the ceilings (and floors) of the Mezquita/Cathedral (and on San Geraldo’s royal ring-finger). It seems only fitting that I should give equal time to the walls.
(Click any image to ‘engrandeurize.’)
ONE OF SEVERAL TRIBUTES TO GREAT-GRANDPA SAN FERNANDO.
The Plaza de España was built in 1928 as part of the Ibero-American Exposition World’s Fair of 1929, which opened, unfortunately, just in time for the Great Depression. (Click any photo for a great inflation.)
Since I’ve written about the plaza several times, I thought I’d give you some different views. Of course, our visit (or at least mine) had to begin with San Geraldo’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather King Ferdinand III (that’s 22-greats if you didn’t feel like counting).
SAN GERALDO’S 22-GREATS-GRANDFATHER, KING FERDINAND III. (A SAINT, LIKE HIS GREATS-GRANDSON, BUT NOT UNTIL HE HAD BEEN DEAD 419 YEARS.)
Ring-necked parakeets are common in Southern Spain, but I’ve never had a good photo opportunity. They flit from one tree to another in a blur of noisy green. Then they hide out among the palm fronds. This time, a group of parakeets were very cooperative on our visit to the Plaza de España. they sat perfectly sun-lit on a nearby lamp post.
“SELF-PORTRAIT WITH TILES”
And, finally, the bubbles. I could have spent an entire day viewing the plaza — in every direction — through the bubbles, but we had a parade to catch (click here).