A Moving Account
I shook Denise’s shoulder at 5 a.m. She examined me through slitted eyes.
“Not now,” she murmured.
I persisted. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
She rolled in my direction. “What?”
“Your birthday is tomorrow. I wanted to surprise you with reservations at a French restaurant.”
“That’s nice, but why wake me to tell me NOW?”
“Because our plane to Paris leaves this morning. You have only one hour to get ready and pack a bag.”
Continue reading “Going Down (the Subway) in Paris”I last wrote about being a pedestrian in Morocco. This took the form of a screenplay, because that’s where the money is these days.
What Rocky did for Stallone, and Good Will Hunting did for Affleck and Damon, Marrakech Matadors might do for me. Of course I will star in the movie myself, as did Stallone, Affleck, and Damon. The loss of that starring role may be a great disappointment to George Clooney, but he has all that tequila money, so don’t feel too sorry for him.
Continue reading “Not Pedestrians in Marrakech”EXT. MARRAKECH – DAY
WE OPEN with a high altitude view of a Marrakech street. At this height it looks much like any busy European street. It has four paved lanes, two in each direction, clearly marked with white and yellow lines.
Continue reading “Marrakech Matadors”You want to know what to expect when you arrive in Marrakech. Based upon my experience, it will go something like this:
You will have made a reservation at a “riad” inside the Marrakech medina. The riad will send you an email with its address. Because you are highly skilled with Google Maps, the world’s greatest invention, you will have no trouble finding the riad.
Continue reading “Finding a Riad in Morocco”Denise said she wanted to go to Morocco, and I should learn about the country. I immediately fixed myself an Old Fashioned and listened to Marrakesh Express. In case you are younger than dirt, that is a song recorded by a band called Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. I bet your grandfather has some of their records.
Continue reading “Rockin’ With a Moroccan”I write today mainly to put a stop to the incessant cards and letters asking why it has been so long since my last essay. This, I have thought, must be what it has been like for Kevin Costner and the producers of Yellowstone.
Continue reading “Meeting Neighbors in Spain”Have you ever noticed that land-based sports seem ridiculous when played in a swimming pool? Dance is beautiful. Synchronized swimming is bizarre. Polo is exciting. Water polo is unwatchable. Competitive swimming is just racing made slower by holding the contest in water.
Continue reading “Water Sports in Spain”Salamanca is an UNESCO World Heritage City. Apparently that’s because it is an old city, with a lot of neat old stuff.
Continue reading “Surveying Salamanca”In 1975 I was at the University of Iowa. Not long after moving into the freshman dorm, I learned that some New Jersey rocker would be playing at Hancher Auditorium, which was a lovely fine arts theater – the kind of place you might go to for a piano recital – nestled on the Iowa River.
Continue reading “Sashaying in Salamanca”I spent my high school freshman year at St. Albert Catholic School in Council Bluffs, Iowa. The boys there had to wear slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie. Girls wore Exorcist-green below-the-knee plaid skirts designed by a blind Scotsman.
Continue reading “Getting “Padeled” in Spain”