Girona, Spain — February 7, 2017

We have a new roommate in our dormitory, a very tall and very slim Frenchman who insists on speaking to me in a mixture of broken Spanish and broken English. I understand neither his English nor his Spanish, but he refuses to speak French. So, I try to be as polite, pretend that I understand what he is saying, and avoid him as much as possible. It gets tiresome listening to someone jabber away while looking you in the eyes when you have no idea what the person is saying. If he could actually speak English or Spanish or would condescend to speak French, I might learn that he has something interesting to say.

The rain let up yesterday just before noon, so I went out for a walk. As you can see in the picture below taken soon after I left the hostel, the streets were still wet, but the sky was clearing. By the time I got back several hours later, the sun and wind had dried everything. Ah, yes, the wind. Although it was sunny yesterday afternoon, it was nonetheless chilly and breezy. I was glad for my jacket worn over a heavy sweatshirt and my wool cap. I did dispense with the long underwear, however, which I had worn the day before to walk in the cold rain.

I wish I could relate to you what the building in the following picture is, but I could find no signs explaining it. Nevertheless, I found its appearance interesting and could not resist photographing it.

In the following picture, the Girona Cathedral juts above the other buildings in the sunshine. The cathedral is not only taller than the buildings around it, it sits on a hill, which gives it added height.

I walked through a section of town yesterday afternoon that I had not visited before. One of the attractions was a large park, although the park looked a bit sad in its winter aspect with all of the trees bare of leaves. I’ll bet the park would be a delight in summer. I also ran into this city square covered in sand instead of asphalt or stones.

Sitting in the center of one of the nearby traffic circles was this bright, metal sculpture. I suppose we’re all entitled to use our imaginations to decide what it means. To me it looked like some sort of giant bird of prey poised to jump off a tree branch onto its unsuspecting victim below. Hey! Maybe that’s me it’s eying!

I returned to the hostel by way of this old iron pedestrian bridge across the Onyar River. On the way I stopped by a supermarket to buy lunch. Because I have not been riding my bike every day and am therefore burning fewer calories, I’ve cut back to two meals a day for during the trip. I eat breakfast in the hostel and buy something light to eat in late afternoon. Today my second meal was a supermarket salad, a baguette of multi-grain bread, and a Snickers bar. Oh, I didn’t count the beer that I drank earlier while sitting on a park bench reading. The calories in beer and wine don’t count, do they?

I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I have been reading Daniel Ellsberg’s book The Doomsday Machine. I am finding it quite alarming. He makes a very convincing argument that some miscalculation could easily set off a nuclear exchange between the USA and Russia. He further claims that such an exchange would end human civilization. Radiation would wipe out all of us in the Northern Hemisphere, but even the Southern Hemisphere would not be spared. He argues that so much smoke would be sucked into the upper atmosphere that sunlight would not be able to penetrate. No sunlight would mean no agriculture, of course. Perhaps some isolated colonies would find the means to feed themselves here and there and survive, but they would be thrown back into stone-age conditions.

He also explodes the myth that only the president has the power to launch a nuclear attack. He claims that dozens of people have their fingers on the nuclear trigger. it’s frightening to think that there may be scores of people in the world who have the power to end human life.

Girona, Spain — February 6, 2018

Yesterday was not the best day for seeing the town. It drizzled rain off and on the entire day. It is still raining this morning, but the rain is supposed to stop around noon. I took the following picture from one of the bridges across the river to show you how gloomy the weather was.

However, things could be worse. I just read a few online news articles in French, and Paris is under a blanket of snow. Clear that up, people! I’m heading for Paris in three days. Those of us who live in Phoenix, Arizona don’t do rain much less snow.

At breakfast yesterday morning, one of the other guests here was nice enough to give me his newspaper when he finished with it. Then I noticed that paper was in the Catalan language, not one of the languages that I read more than a few words of. You can get newspapers in Spanish and even English in this town, but the people who run the hostel are Catalan separatists and subscribe to two newspapers, both in Catalan. My Catalan is good enough to find the men’s room and not much more. When people speak to me in Catalan, I answer in Spanish.

The picture below was taken on one of the narrow streets in the neighborhood where I am staying. I didn’t walk too far afield yesterday. I still have my cold, and walking around in the cold drizzle, even wearing my rain jacket, was probably not good for my health.

What interested me about the following picture of a baker’s shop is the man in the window in the background. He was busily kneading dough to make more bread. When you buy bread in many bakers’ shops here, you can be assured that the bread is fresh from the oven. Bakers have to get very early to make sure that the Spanish have fresh bread for breakfast.

There are many specialty grocery shops in Spanish cities. The one below specializes in fruit. People walk from store to store doing their daily shopping knowing that they can get the freshest fruit in the fruit market and the freshest bread in the bakery. Of course, there are large chain grocery stores, too, which is where I tend to buy my food, because the prices are lower. The large supermarkets sell everything from disposable diapers to beer.

I discovered yet another church and couldn’t resist going inside to get out of the rain. If I were a church fan, I could spend my entire vacation investigating churches, especially because churches are dry inside and have plenty of empty pews to sit in.

It’s still 15 minutes until breakfast. This place serves breakfast bright and early, beginning at 7 am. The last place I stayed, breakfast wasn’t served until 8:15 on weekends.

You can get all three meals here at the hostel. They are called esmorzar (breakfast), dinar (the midday meal that the high and mighty call lunch but which we common folk called dinner in the Western Pennsylvania coal mining town where I grew up, and sopar, which probably doesn’t need translation.

By the way, the Berber chemistry professor who was sharing my dorm room left this morning. He got up at about 5 am and spent over an hour getting his suitcase ready, zipping and unzipping it repeatedly. I tried to go back to sleep but finally gave up and got up as well. I will miss him. He gave me an opportunity to practice my French.

Girona, Spain — February 5, 2018

Yep, I’m  Girona again for a five-night stay on my way back to Paris and my flight home. I was scheduled to arrive in Girona late yesterday morning, but my train was late, and I arrived in the early afternoon. Given the fact that I am on vacation and have all of the time in the world, that was not a disaster. However, given the fact that Spanish trains are almost never late, I was surprised that two days in a row my train was more than a half hour behind schedule. Is there some sort of local plot against me?

Here is a picture of the security checkpoint in the Lleido train station where I was waiting to catch the train to Girona. As you can see, no one was manning the checkpoint, and we were all wondering when we were going to be allowed onto the platform. Finally, the checkpoint did open, and as there were not many of us, we passed security quickly and were waiting when the train pulled in. It’s a good thing, too, because about a minute after the train came to a halt, a whistle blew, the train doors shut, and the train got underway again.

Here in Girona, some sort of celebration was going on when I arrived. I don’t know what was being celebrated, but at I guess I would think that it had something to do with a local soccer club. The celebration involved the consumption of of large quantities of alcohol and off-key singing in a vary loud voice of what I suppose was supposed to be a song. Everyone was carrying a flag of the type that the guy in the picture is wearing or was wearing a neckerchief with the flag’s colors. The celebration also involved a lot of staggering around, as not one of the celebrants was capable of walking in a straight line.

It rained off and on all day. When I left the hostel in Lleida to walk to the train station, the streets were already wet from rain, and it rained during the two-hour ride on the high-speed train. As you will notice the the photo below taken in the street that runs past the hostel where I am staying in Girona, people are carrying umbrellas.

The rain did not stop some of the bicycle racers from training, however. Many professional cyclists, including some Americans, have their winter homes in Girona and train in the nearby mountains. I didn’t manage to photograph any, but several cyclists in racing gear pedaled past me as I was out walking the streets. Will I see any of them again on TV in this year’s Tour de France? There is a good chance that I will.

As I have mentioned in past blog entries from Girona, this city is a hotbed of the Catalan Independence Movement. Catalan flags and signs proclaiming Catalan independence are visible everywhere. In the picture below, the sign on the left reads in Catalan “Liberty Political Prisoners,” and the one on the right reads “Out with Spanish Justice!” A number of the leaders of the Catalan Independence Movement are in jail, out of bail, or in exile in other countries fighting extradition to Spain. Having the wrong political opinions in this country can get you locked up.

Leaving politics to one side, I found the chair pictured below to be quite interesting if somewhat confusing. I have no idea what it symbolizes. Because yesterday was Sunday, the shop before which the chair is located was closed, so I couldn’t go inside and ask. I’ll let you figure it out, and perhaps you can tell me.

I shouldn’t close without mentioning my roommates here in the Girona youth hostel. I am in an eight-person dormitory room with four roommates. The guy who sleeps on the other side of the partition is Catalan, and I had an interesting discussion with him yesterday afternoon about Catalan and Spanish politics. We speak Spanish with each other.

Sleeping across from me is a Berber from Morocco. He said he is a chemist by profession and is here in Girona taking a seminar at the local university. He told me the seminar is taught in English, which he speaks reasonably well. However, my lousy French is better than his mediocre English, so we communicate in French.

The fourth guy is also from Morocco, but he is Arab. His only European language is Spanish, which he speaks very well. He told me he is leaving today for Holland, where his family is living. I wished him lots of luck trying to get by in Holland with Spanish and Arabic as his only languages.

The fifth guy sleeps in the bunk above me, and I have not met him. When I’m awake, he’s asleep and vice versa.

I wish they would stop calling these places “youth” hostels. All of us in the dorm room are middle aged or older. Perhaps “Senior Citizen Accommodation” would be a more accurate moniker.

Lleida February 4, 2018

This is my last post from Lleida. After I upload it, I’m leaving on foot for the train station where I’ll catch a train back to Girona. Girona was my second stop on this trip, after Paris, and it will also be my next-to-last stop before I head back to Paris where I will catch an airplane back to the United States on February 15.

I have enjoyed Lleida, despite allowing my cold to limit the time I spent walking around the city. Lleida is definitely a very Catalan city. The Catalan language predominates over Spanish, but unlike Girona, this city does not seem to be a hotbed of the Catalan Independence Movement.

Almost all signs here are in Catalan only. It is rare to see something written in Spanish much less in English. Yesterday at the supermarket, I made the mistake of using the self-checkout lane to pay for my purchases. The automated voice on the self scanner kept giving me orders in Catalan, which I did not understand. Finally I figured out that it was time for me to pay, and I inserted some coins, but instead of pumping out my change, the machine gave me another order. Finally, I guessed that it was asking me if I wanted to buy a plastic bag (in discount European supermarkets, you pay a small amount for a grocery bag, if you want one). One word on the screen was in green letters, and I gambled that that was the word I needed to touch to continue without buying a grocery bag. Bingo! The machine pumped out my change and printed my receipt.

My advice to my fellow tourists is that if you are the type of person who enjoys experimenting with new languages, use the Catalan automated check-out scanners. They can provide hours of entertainment. If you are not comfortable with strange languages, use a check-out lane with a human cashier, who will at least speak standard Spanish, may even speak some words of English, and will get you out of the store in a reasonable amount of time.

I did make it to the Cathedral yesterday during the hours that it was open. I could have even gone to confession. A priest was manning one of the church’s three confessionals, but he had no business while I was there. I guess that means that people in Catalunya don’t sin very much.

The following photograph was taken looking toward the main altar from a pew in the rear of the church.

I also snapped photos of two of the cathedral’s side altars. The one in the following photograph is the one that I found to be most impressive. The box to the right of the altar is where a priest was seated patiently but vainly waiting for people to come and confess their sins.

The photograph below shows a second side altar.

The main part of Lleida is full of narrow, pedestrian-friendly streets. The main streets for automobile traffic are below on the river bank. Naturally, it is difficult to take a snapshot in any Spanish town without a church steeple intruding into the landscape.

Below is yet another church that is located not far from the Cathedral. I did not go inside this church. There is a limit to how many churches I am motivated to visit in one day.

You can be walking along one of the narrow alleyways of Lleida when suddenly it will open up into a plaza. What appears to be a staircase at the very right of the picture is an escalator leading up, and to the right of the steps in the center of the plaza, perhaps you can make out an elevator between the buildings. I didn’t ride it, but I believe it is there to take pedestrians up to the next highest street level.

Finally, I’ll leave you with a Lleida street scene. I am puzzled by the structure on top of the round building in about mid-frame. I would like to know what purpose it serves. I will have to puzzle about it another day. For now, it’s time for me to upload this post and head to the train station.

Lleida, Spain — February 3, 2018

The sky did clear yesterday although the temperature remained cold. I think I will run into rain again tomorrow when I head back to Girona.

The first thing I wanted to do when I went out walking this morning was to see the river that flows through the City. It is called the Segre and flows through three countries, France, Andorra, and Spain, before it empties into the Ebro. Its source is in the Pyrenees. As you can see from the photo, it must at times carry extensive flood waters, because its channel through the city leaves plenty of room for the river to spread out.

The cathedral in the picture below is modern by Spanish standards. It is the Catedral Nova or New Cathedral constructed in the 18th Century in a post-Baroque style. You might notice in the following picture that the center door is open, which means that I could have entered had a done so right after taking the picture.

However, I thought it was time for a coffee stop with a pastry, and I lingered over them while reading. When I came out, all the doors were barred as shown below. A sign in front told me in Catalan that the Cathedral is open for a few hours in the morning and again for a few hours in the evening. The rest of the time it is closed. Perhaps I will go by again after breakfast and see if I can get a look at the inside.

Finally, here is a picture of one of the Plazas or plaças as they are called in Catalan. I didn’t linger but made my way back to the hostel, as I wanted to get some writing done on the book I am pretending to write but seldom make any progress on. I am also reading Daniel Ellsberg’s book The Doomsday Machine, which I am finding fascinating. If the book is to be believed, we may have more than once run the risk of wiping out all human life on Earth through misuse of the US and Russian nuclear arsenals.

Lleida, Spain — February 2, 2017

Yesterday was a foggy, bone-chilling day, but at least it didn’t rain, and I found decent digs when I arrived here in Lleida, especially considering that I’m paying the equivalent of $22 a night with breakfast included for a room that is big enough to roller skate in and includes a a modern bathroom with shower. There are four bunks in the room, but I have the room to myself and sleep in the lower bunk in the corner.

My cold had me feeling a bit under the weather when I left Zaragoza yesterday morning, so I took a bus to the train station instead of walking. The Zaragoza train station is immense, probably 20 times as large as it needs to be to handle the limited number of passengers who use it. I shot the picture below from the main level of the tracks below. Incidentally, the orange walls on the right mark the location of a hotel located within the station.

The monitors in the station said the train was to arrive 30 minutes late. That turned out to be incorrect. It was closer to 45 minutes late. From Zaragoza to Lleida is less than an hour in the train, so I had no reason to get excited. The trains in Spain tend to be very punctual and almost always arrive and leave exactly on the minute.

As I looked out of the train window during the short train ride, I was struck by how much of Spain is empty countryside. There are areas of agriculture in the countryside, but much of the land outside the towns and cities stands fallow.

The photograph below gives you an idea of how dreary the weather was when I arrived at Lleida. Of course, the fact that I was not feeling well contributed to the gloom as I walked toward the Lleida Youth Hostel and Student Residence. Yes, the hostel where I am staying houses mainly Erasmus (exchange) students from other countries who are studying a semester or two in Spain just as I studied two semesters in France many years ago. The breakfast seating is segregated. The students have their reserved section, and we “guests” have a different one.

As I walked toward the hostel yesterday, I stumbled across this statue of two men who are…. well, I don’t know just what they are doing. The statue is old enough that the inscription on its base has been obliterated by the weather. I suppose with a quick Google search I could learn more about it than I want to know.

I also came across a small church, nothing special from outward appearances. I went inside for a rest and to see the church, and below is a picture that I shot while seated in one of the pews. A famous personage is alleged to be buried inside the church, but I saw no indications of a grave or tomb.

I have two nights in Lleida, so I’ll have a chance to see the city. The temperature outside is just above freezing at the moment and the sky is overcast. However, the sky shows signs of clearing with hints of blue behind the cloud cover, and the forecast for this afternoon is for temperatures in the mid-50s.

Zaragoza, Spain — February 1, 2018

Later today I leave for Lleida, Spain, which is in the Catalan region. My train leaves just after 12 noon. After three nights in Lleida, I return to Girona for five nights and then it’s back to Paris, where I catch my plane to Los Angeles on February 15.

I had a bit of a shock when I went to my dormitory room yesterday evening. I had not seen my roommate, who had already been asleep the night before when I went to bed late and was still in bed yesterday morning when I got up. When I opened the door yesterday evening, in the other bunk lay a young woman reading on her cell phone. From the look of shock on her face, I could tell that I was a surprise. I had assumed that my roommate was another man, and she had assumed that I was a woman. However, after the initial jaw dropping, we had a nice chat.

Zaragaoza is not a tourist city, so I have no marvelous tourists scenes to show you. I do find the style of some of the buildings interesting such as the one pictured below.

The street shown below is the one where the hostel is located.

The small plaza below is typical of those found all over the city with benches and chairs for tired old people like me to sit down. The tall buildings house stores and businesses on the ground floor, and the upper stories are apartments. Most Spaniards live in apartments or flats that they call pisos.

I’m sure that everyone reading this blog will be glad to know that I have to cut this entry short. It’s time to pack and head for the train station.

Zaragoza, Spain — January 31, 2018

There was no blog post yesterday morning, because the day before I had a fever with my cold and spent most of the day in bed sleeping. Yesterday, I traveled from Cordova here to Zaragoza, which took a good part of the day. I meant to write a post when I got here in the evening (still morning in Phoenix), but I got involved in a bull session here in the hostel: first with a group of Italians and Latin Americans and later with a guy from Romania, another guy from South Korea, and a woman from here in Spain.

The Romanian guy had brought a 12-pack of beer, which certainly oiled the discussion. We covered topics from Catalonia independence, to the US nuclear arms, to crypto currencies. It was after midnight when I finally headed upstairs to my bunk despite the fact that some begged me to stay and continue talking. I have no idea how long the others kept it up, but I haven’t seen them this morning.

I walked to the train station in Cordoba, and when I got there, I had a lot of time to kill. I couldn’t take long walks through the city, because I had my suitcase to drag behind me. But, that’s getting ahead of the story. After I walked through one of the gates of the old city of Cordoba and emerged in the city proper, this is one of the first businesses I saw, located across the street from me. I only stood there only long enough to drag out my camera and snap a photo, The place didn’t seem to be doing much business. I saw one elderly lady enter and no men.

Below is the main street that I walked up on the way to the railway station, Cordoba is known for its old Roman, Moorish, and Jewish sector, but most of the city consists of broad boulevards with plenty of green space.

below is one of the sections of park through which I walked heading toward the station. I would have explored all this area earlier if I hadn’t spent two days of my stay in Cordoba in bed sleeping off my fever.

The flea market shown below was set up in one of the public park areas. To the visitor, Cordoba appears very prosperous, but locals told me that is an illusion. I was told that Cordoba has one of the highest unemployment rates in Spain. Spain, of course, has one of the largest unemployment problems in the European Union. Spain has come a long way since the depths of the 2008 recession, but it still has some distance to go to regain prosperity, and there are still many people engaged in marginal businesses to get by,

I took the shot below of the train platforms from above during an interval when there were no trains coming or going. I couldn’t go down to my platform yet. Before boarding a high-speed train in Spain, passengers have to pass through a security check. It wasn’t as stringent as an airport security, but our bags were x-rayed and we wanded. I forgot to take my wallet out of my pants pocket, but I needn’t have worried. The quick pass with the wand was more for show than an actual inspection.

As you can see, the platforms are very long, and so are many of he trains. When a train pulls in, you want to be somewhere near the carriage where your assigned seat is. There is not a lot of time to hunt.  Areas of the platform are color coded. Perhaps you can see the yellow stripes in the photo above. The woman who scanned my ticket told me to wait on the linea a-THUL. ¿Qué? La línea a-THHul she repeated with emphasis on the TH sound. Oh, la línea azul.In Spain, the letter z is pronounced with a distinct th sound. In New World Spanish, it is pronounced like the letter s. By emphasizing the TH, she thought she was speaking more clearly, but in my case it gave my brain something extra to try to figure out.

I was in coach 22, seat 4A. As the train pulled in, I watched carriage after carriage go past the blue line, and no coach had that number. Finally the whole train had gone by me. That’s when it occurred to me that there must be a second train arriving. Here the two trains would be joined to form one humongous train. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the second train pulled in. I snapped the picture below just before the two trains were coupled together.

I know I showed a photo of the speed indicator of another train in an earlier blog post, but the speed at which these trains travel never ceases to amaze me. Here the train is traveling at 299 kilometers per hour. That is 186 miles per hour. You wouldn’t want anything to go wrong at that speed on a train carrying hundreds of people. Incidentally, 300 kilometers per hour is the maximum speed at which these Siemens-built trains are supposed to operate.

I walked from the Zaragoza train station here to the hostel, and as mentioned above, I promptly got involved in an hours-long bull session. Now I need to proofread this post and then it will FINALLY be time for the late Spanish breakfast.

Cordoba, Spain — January 29, 2018

This is my last full day in Cordoba, and I don’t think I’ll do anything exciting. My cold is still making me feel miserable, and I spend part of the yesterday in bed. This morning I went back to bed right after breakfast. Tomorrow, I take an afternoon bullet train to Zaragoza, a city that I have visited twice before. I hope I don’t give my cold to everyone on the train.

Usually I write my posts in the early morning before breakfast, but today I didn’t feel up to it, and it is now almost noon. Of course, it’s still 2 am back in Phoenix, Arizona, so there’s little rush.

I swear that the bread in the following picture looks better in person than in the photo. It’s a typical part of the Andalucian breakfast. It consists of a slice of freshly-toasted bread topped first with extra virgin olive oil (instead of butter) and then with a tomato purée. As well as tomatoes, the purée contains more extra virgin olive oil and salt. If I had only known it from my photograph, I would have probably refused to eat it. However, this slice of pan con tomate is now being digested in my interior.

Toasted bread with coffee is a standard Spanish breakfast, but in other parts of Spain it is more usual to top the toast with butter and jam.

I did make it outside yesterday afternoon, which may not have been a good idea given the chilly breeze and my cold. I went first to the bull museum, but it is closed on Sundays. I  managed to take a picture through the bars separating the museum’s courtyard from the street. The two cats on the steps behind the bull look a bit uncertain. I don’t know if they were frightened of the bull or of me.

I also went by the Jewish Museum, but it was closed for renovation, so I wandered outside the gates of the old, walled city. On the way, and elderly Spanish couple, probably almost as old as I am, stopped me and asked me the name of that section of the city. I had to apologize and tell them I was a tourist also and had no idea.

I took the picture below from outside the old city wall. The gate is called the Almoldóvar Gate (Puerta de Almodóvar). I noticed its name, because Pedro Almodóvar is one of my favorite film directors.

The following picture was also taken outside the wall of the old city. The wall is shown on the left, and a modern apartment building on the right.

The gentleman represented by the bronze statue is Ben Maimonides, who was a Jewish philosopher and doctor. He was born here in Cordova in 1135 and died in the city that today is called Cairo, Egypt in 1204. He lived in Cordoba during the Moorish occupation when Jews were much more tolerated than they were later under the Catholic Monarchs. However even under the Moors, he found it wise to pretend to convert to Islam for his safety.

I know no more about him, but those readers who are Phoenix cyclists might ask Ed McGee. Ed has all sorts of useless er, I mean esoteric knowledge stored his brain cells, and I am relatively certain that he could give a 15-minute discourse on our buddy Ben Mainonides.

I’ve been having a problem with very tiny insects crawling around the floor of the room where I am staying. I’ve killed scores of them. Yesterday evening i observed that they were entering through a barely perceptible hole in the baseboard, so I went to reception and asked if they had any insecticide. Maybe bugs are a common problem here, because the guy working reception reached down under the desk and pulled out a large spray can of bug killer. A few squirts, and the bugs are no longer a problem.

Cordoba, Spain — January 28, 2018

Because I am nursing a bad cold, I didn’t go out yesterday and have no interesting photos of tourist sites to share. I spend most of the day in bed, alternating between reading and sleeping. Then I slept about 12 hours during the night. I started reading Salman Rushdie’s book The Golden House and decided that I didn’t like it, so I am now reading Daniel Ellsberg’s non-fiction book The Doomsday Machine. I alternate that with the news magazine The Economist, which I read every week.

I am feeling somewhat better today and hope to get out this afternoon after the outside temperature warms up a  bit. It’s quite chilly here, especially in the mornings. The only photographs I could think of to post are a few of my dwellings. The one that follows is of the dining room. Breakfast is included in the price of lodging, and breakfast is the only meal I eat in the hostel. All meals are all-you-can eat buffets, which will not help me lose weight for the upcoming bicycle-racing season.

The photo below shows the sleeping end of my room. There are twin beds, but I only occupy one, the one on the right. The other bed serves as a place for me to pile junk.

The room has a  set of doors leading to one of the hostel’s two enclosed  patios. The small table is  where I am seated at the moment writing this post.

Finally, here’s a snapshot of part the bathroom showing the shower and sink. Notice the reflection of that handsome-looking guy in the bathroom mirror!

I am hoping that I feel better this afternoon and am able to make it out and about. I didn’t come here to spend my vacation indoors nursing a cold.

by Jack Quinn, Phoenix, Arizona USA paybay1(at)