Sky Bar

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

A FRIEND FROM Oslo is traveling around Southern Spain with her son and grandson and we had the pleasure of seeing them Wednesday evening. A good friend here had heard about a new bar in Fuengirola atop the Hotel El Puerto, part of a chain called Sky Bar. An acquaintance was there just last week and told us it was glorious with breathtaking views up and down the coast. We asked if it was also a restaurant and she said it was. The restaurant area has canvas sun shades, so it’s very pleasant, she explained. We asked if it was formal and she said, not too formal. She showed us photos of a magnificent sunset. A swimming pool was visible. She said that, yes, you do walk around the pool to get to the restaurant. So, that’s where we went for a meal.

Well, it’s a pool bar. On the 10th floor of a separate tower of the 16-floor hotel. The view was nice, but didn’t reach over the mountains in any direction. There were few tables that might accommodate an actual meal, so I asked the bartender if there was a restaurant possibly around a corner. Oh, no, but they had a bar menu if that would do for us. We could get pizzas, a few sandwiches, and even nachos. The canvas barely shaded the seating area and, since the sun was lowering in the sky, it shown straight across the table. The staff were friendly. The nachos sucked, but the pre-made pizzas were surprisingly good, as were the sandwiches — even if they were all served in take-away boxes. I was concerned we were too casual in our shorts and T-shirts, but we were among the very few fully clothed guests, so we were decidedly not underdressed. A nice place to have a drink. In future, we’ll take our acquaintance’s recommendations with a grain of salt (possibly on a margarita).

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UNA AMIGA DE Oslo viaja por el sur de España con su hijo y su nieto y tuvimos el placer de verlos el miércoles por la noche. Una buena amiga había oído hablar de un nuevo bar en Fuengirola en la cima del Hotel El Puerto, un bar de una cadena llamada Sky Bar. Una conocida estuvo allí la semana pasada y nos dijo que era glorioso con vistas impresionantes de toda la costa. Preguntamos si también era un restaurante y ella dijo que sí. La zona del restaurante tiene sombrillas de lona, por lo que es muy agradable, explicó. Le preguntamos si era formal y ella dijo, no demasiado formal. Nos mostró fotos de una magnífica puesta de sol. Una piscina era visible. Ella dijo que sí, camina alrededor de la piscina para llegar al restaurante. Entonces, ahí es donde fuimos a comer.

Bueno, es un bar de la piscina. En el piso 10 de una torre separada del hotel de 16 pisos. La vista era agradable, pero no llegaba a las montañas en ninguna dirección. Había pocas mesas que podrían acomodar una comida real, así que le pregunté al camarero si había un restaurante posiblemente en una esquina. Oh, no, pero tenían un menú de bar si eso nos vendría bien. Podríamos conseguir pizzas, unos cuantos sándwiches, e incluso nachos. El lienzo apenas sombreaba la zona de asientos y, como el sol estaba bajando en el cielo, se veía directamente a través de la mesa. El personal era amable. Los nachos eran horribles, pero las pizzas preparadas eran sorprendentemente buenas, al igual que los sándwiches, incluso si todos se servían en cajas para llevar. Me preocupaba que fuésemos demasiado informales con nuestros pantalones cortos y camisetas, pero estábamos entre los pocos invitados completamente vestidos, por lo que decididamente no estábamos mal vestidos. Un buen lugar para tomar una copa. En el futuro, tomaremos las recomendaciones de nuestra conocida con un grano de sal (posiblemente en una margarita).

Walking to Sky Bar. Cuttlefish and sardines. / Caminando a Sky Bar. Sepia y sardinas.
Walking home. / Caminando a casa.

What’s for Supper, Jerry? / ¿Que Hay Para Cenar, Jerry?

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

San Geraldo walked into my office the other night and said, “I have chicken breasts in the refrigerator. I can make…”

“Pizza?!?”

“No…”

“Popcorn?!? Can you put the chicken in the microwave and press the popcorn button? I hav…”

“Mitchell…”

“I haven’t had popcorn in ages!”

“Here are the options. They all involve chicken.”

I think I sometimes exhaust San Geraldo. (We went out for pizza.)

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LA OTRA NOCHE, San Geraldo entró en mi oficina y dijo: “Tengo pechugas de pollo en el refrigerador. Yo puedo hacer…”

“Pizza?!?”

“No…”

“¿¡¿Palomitas de maiz?!? ¿Puedes poner el pollo en el microondas y presionar el botón de palomitas de maíz? No he ten… ”

“Mitchell.”

“¡No he tenido palomitas de maíz en años!”

“Mitchell, aquí están las opciones. Todos incluyen pollo.”

Creo que a veces agoto a San Geraldo. (Salimos a comer pizza.)

“He finally settled on a finger. I’m pretty sure it was the wrong one.”

“Finalmente se estableció en un dedo. Estoy bastante seguro de que era el equivocado.”


Traveling With A Saint

We arrived home to Málaga yesterday (Tuesday) morning. I feel great at the moment. Well, not at this specific moment. OK, now I feel great again. But only at the moment. Jet lag and two months of non-stop activity and travel.

I have four gazillion photos to sort through and then share. But, don’t worry, I plan to hone that down to under three gazillion. Today I’ll simply share what it looks like to travel with San Geraldo.

It’s a good thing I don’t care about what anyone thinks (within reason).

On the other hand, San Geraldo is clearly without reason.

AMAZINGLY, NOT SAN GERALDO UNDER THAT BLANKET.
FLYING FROM NEW YORK TO MINNEAPOLIS.
COMING IN FROM THE SCREEN PORCH AT NEPHEW AND
NIECE-IN-LAW’S, RYAN AND EMILY’S, SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA. 
GREAT-NIECES AND GREAT-NEPHEW (ELOISE, ALICE, AND BENNETT).
THEY WARMED THEIR BACKS AT THE FIREPLACE AND THEN WARMED SAN GERALDO.
(THAT’S AN ‘ELOISE’ STICKER ON HIS FOREHEAD.)
AT A SUPPER CLUB IN SAINT PAUL, MINNESOTA (MORE ON THAT LATER).
I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF WHAT WAS GOING ON HERE. (TOWEL AND FAN BOTH?)
BALLARD, WASHINGTON (IN SEATTLE).
TOO COLD. NO HAT.
BALLARD (AGAIN).
TOO SUNNY. NO SUNGLASSES.
NEW YORK TO MÁLAGA.
OK, EVERYONE WAS COLD.
PHASE 2. IT GOT A LITTLE BETTER LATER IN THE FLIGHT.
FED UP WITH ME AND MY CAMERA: “UH, JERRY, MAYBE YOU
WANT TO TRY AGAIN… WITH THE CORRECT NUMBER OF FINGERS.”
“THAT’S MY BOY!”

Whiskey And Soda, And Rock And Roll

Our favorite pizza place (we don’t eat Spanish food every day) — here in Los Boliches, Fuengirola, Málaga, Spain — is another great spot just a few minutes from home called Pizza Maestro.

Pizza Maestro, although in Spain and serving excellent Italian food (and thin-crust, very healthy tasting pizza), is Finnish. Well, Finnish-owned.

Everyone speaks Spanish. One of the waiters hails from Morocco and his native tongue is Arabic. Some people find English easier. But the language one hears most often is Finnish.

They’ve been playing great music lately. Perfect atmosphere.

This afternoon while we shared, of all things, a pizza Hawaiana, San Geraldo blurted, “Listen. It’s Klezmer!”

“What?”

“They’re singing Yiddish!” he exclaimed.

Here’s what was playing (for the umpteenth time, by the way). Yiddish?

(The translation isn’t the best, but you get the idea.)