Saturday, 19 November 2011

Barcelona, Spain

If we are in Barcelona, then it is time for us to do our wash at a Laundromat.  I woke thinking about Wyona and Greg, the washer man and woman, wondering if they would be pickpocketed, for if past history is a predictor of the present, one or both of them will be targets today.  She was first pick-pocketed in Manilla in the 1970’s when she had all of the money for their paycheck for the month in her purse. She had split it into two parts:  money for their bills and money for their groceries.  When she went to pay for her groceries at the till, the one side of her purse had been emptied. 

Wyona had her purse stolen in the USA when she was with Geraldine and they were having an ice cream cone.  That time they got her passport as well. 

Then she had her money stolen in Paris when she and I were travelling on that beautiful new subway there.  Greg had his wallet targeted twice in Barcelona.  Wyona hears him yelling and he is surrounded by people who are looking at him as though he is crazy, but at least he still has his wallet when they leave.  That is the way the pickpockets went after Doral in the China in the ‘70’s.  Wyona claims the method is to surround the victim, get them separated from their friends, make it so they can’t move and then go for the money. 

Remember the time when the pickpockets were after Wyona at Oxford Square. I called out to her they kicked me.  The black and blue bruise on my shins reminded me of that for several months afterward.  In Las Palmas, the lace and fabric merchant Wyona was visiting reminded them several times – take care with your wallet on the streets.  Hard on the merchants when the thieves get to your money before you can pull it out to make purchases with them.

I had acute bronchitis when I got to London.  A trip to the clinic got me some medication and I had to make the call – stay there or keep travelling. I thought I could get well as quickly on a boat as in a bed. I have pretty well quarantined myself to the room until the last two days.  What is unlike me is ... no morning walks on the deck, no early bird exercise, and I am right off of my food.  This is a major disaster, given here are only 8 more days of cruising with unlimited everything.  For example,

Wyona and I were alone at dinner.  Greg had not returned from Mallorca and we couldn’t decide which dessert was the best on the menu.  Idot, the head waiter, was suggesting bread pudding.  Too much bread, thought I.  Edin, the assistant waiter, said that the chocolate cake would be best and that we could up the ante on it by asking for double chocolate sauce and some white sauce on the side.  He got into the act because he has to ask us every night if we want coffee.  I told him that if one of the 3 of us asks for coffee, that event will be about as much of a miracle as he will ever see in a lifetime.  We just aren’t going to be saying yes to that beverage.  Still he has to ask, so we try to get in some other conversation with him so we don’t looks so unpleasant with our abrupt no, no, and no.  And that is how we got in conversation with him about the dessert, having no previous idea that the customer could fiddle with the dessert, as in double the sauce, or add an extra scoop of ice cream, please. The peach poached in brandy with crème analgise looked good to me.  The orange sherbet promised heightened citrus flavour but Wyona and I were too full to have anything jump out at us. And the idea that we could say, no dessert tonight is absolutely foreign to us.  So the waiters brought it all.  I have to learn how to poach peaches at the lake and make them into that dessert. So stunning! I searched out the assistant waiter so that we could take back an extra poached peach to the cabin for Greg.  I am helping Wyona take care of Greg, as you can see.  Not that he can't gather enough cookies on his own.

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