Calle Sol cuts a diagonal across a large stretch of the area between the train station and San Luis/Feria. Halfway up it, 5 streets meet in a haphazard way, at a church. One corner has a multifaceted building, which isn't really plumb with gravity, perpendicular to the ground. The "Bar Uno de San Roman", which has a parrot in a cage just inside the door, is just off the corner. There is an azulejo (tile) set into the wall outside the door that says Manolo Caracol sang there, the day he died, if I understand correctly. There are pictures of bullfights and flamenco singers covering the walls inside. On two facets of the corner, there is the shop Antonio Rodriguez, who specialises in Capirotes and stuff for costaleros (the KKK tall pointy-type hats for Semana Santa), and other Semana Santa things.

The other people who live in this residence may have trouble getting their bearings. They probably will be quite confused when they reach home and don't find their door. I cleaned it - twice. It still is not what one could really call clean, but it has shiny green paint now, and confounded me the first time I came back.

Sachiko just got back from Minneapolis, well via Lebrija. She came up from there after just getting there the day before yesterday. We had lunch at the Chinese place, and managed to order rice with great difficulty in Spanish, when I could have just said, "Dai women liang wan fan." Thank goodness for friends who are more sane than me. Thank you Sachiko.

By the way, Manolo Caracol is a flamenco singer with a very beautiful voice. Highly recommended to search on youtube if you have any interest.

Today I realised I cannot imagine life without siesta. Life with business that continues relentlessly on past lunch. Que barbaridad! One cannot live like that.