Better than Fair / Mejor que Regular

THE ANNUAL OCTOBER Fair in Fuengirola, Feria del Rosario, is in honor of “Our Lady of the Rosary.” Most people know it simply as the Fuengirola Fair. And after the procession of a statue of the virgin through the streets of Fuengirola to kick off the week, it becomes one big party at the fairgrounds. Dancing and music by local talent — and almost-famous talent. Food and rides. And souvenirs and handcrafts to purchase. San Geraldo and I were too lazy to catch the fireworks on opening night and we didn’t even go one evening to see the fairground lit up. But I did happen to be out one early evening and decided to pass by the fairgrounds on my way home. I was glad I did. I got to see some of the horses and carriages, as well as the traditional costumes. I missed the noise and the crowds and the parties, and that was fine with me.

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LA FERIA DE Fuengirola en octubre (o la Feria del Rosario) es en honor a “Nuestra Señora del Rosario”. Y después de la procesión de una estatua de la virgen por las calles de Fuengirola para comenzar la semana, se convierte en una gran fiesta en el recinto ferial. Baile y música de talentos locales, y talentos casi famosos. Comida y paseos. Y recuerdos y artesanías para comprar. San Geraldo y yo éramos demasiado vagos para ver los fuegos artificiales en la noche de apertura y ni siquiera fuimos una noche para ver el recinto ferial iluminado. Pero resultó que estaba fuera una tarde y decidí pasar por el recinto ferial de camino a casa. Me alegré de haberlo hecho. Pude ver algunos de los caballos y carruajes, así como los trajes tradicionales. Extrañaba el ruido y las multitudes y las fiestas, y eso estaba bien para mí.

I saw her last year in a similar outfit.
La vi el año pasado luciendo un aspecto similar.
I saw this guy at the parade before my first Fuengirola Fair in 2013, and of course I had something to say (click here).
Vi a este hombre en el desfile antes de mi primera Feria de Fuengirola en 2013, y por supuesto tenía algo que decir (haz clic aquí).

Karma, It’ll Bite You In The Ass

So, I was sitting on the toilet Friday morning. Yes, that really is how this story begins.

So, I was sitting on the toilet and Dudo decided, as always, it was a perfect opportunity for us to spend some time together. First, he forcefully pushed the door open with his front paws. He checked to make sure I wasn’t getting into the shower and then ran for a toy. (The usual routine.)

I threw the toy. He fetched it. I threw it again. He fetched it again. The third time, he returned with a long knotted-up string. We had a tug-of-war. I threw it. He fetched it. He tired of that and then raised up on his hind legs to head-butt my thigh. I took the hint and stroked and petted him. He clearly wanted to hop up on my lap. That was not about to happen.

I stopped responding to his head butts, assuming he’d leave me in peace.

Then I yelped.

DUDO, OUR LITTLE ANGEL.
(CLICK FOR THE BIGGER PICTURE.)

Annoyed by my lack of attention, Dudo bit me on the ass! Well, more precisely, he gave me a love bite (with his sharp little teeth) on the upper thigh.

The message: “Don’t ignore me, goddammit!”

I of course gave him a stern lecture. He apologised.

Show me your teeth…

Plugged In

San Geraldo and I went to Feria Sunday night. Last year, we noticed a gay pop-up bar, but we were so deafened by the noise by that time that we didn’t have it in us to stick around. As is the case in the USA, for some reason, the organisers and venders at these kinds of events choose to blast music from every venue at eardrum-exploding decibel levels.

Our reaction has nothing to do with us getting more crotchety as we get older (although in San Geraldo’s case, it’s a fact of life). I remember these same decibel levels from my time spent at discos and bars in the ’70s and ’80s, and long after —although no longer at discos.

When I saw Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band perform live in Brooklyn in the 1970s, the music was so loud that I had a ringing in my ears for a few days after.

Anyway, San Geraldo suggested we get ear plugs this year and then try and find that bar.

Behind the casetas (the small houses at the fairgrounds used for parties/food/music), is a strip of temporary bars hosted by different groups and organisations. That’s where we came upon that gay bar last year. So, last night, ear plugs in place, we headed down the lane. We never did find the gay bar this year, but I realised that we couldn’t have visited with anyone anyway. The ear plugs worked too well. (Click any image; it won’t get louder.)

A CASETA.
A QUIET AND LESS POPULAR CASETA.
A TYPICAL RACING COMPETITION ON THE MIDWAY.
INSTEAD OF HORSES, THIS ONE HAD CAMELS.
(WATCH THE FOLLOWING CLIP.)
WITH DIFFERENT MUSIC BOOMING FROM EVERY RIDE AND EVERY CASETA. 
LOOKING BACK AS WE MADE OUR ESCAPE.

We heard great singing, so stopped for some traditional Spanish music.
We didn’t stay long. Hi ho.