Bate, Bate, Chocolate

That title is from a children's chant I came across years ago and incorporated into the multilingual program I designed for young kids. It's about beating the hot chocolate, with a utensil called a molinillo./when I first got it I thought it was a musical instrument, like a rattle. And when I asked kids to guess what it was they usually guessed that too.  It's a wooden implement, similar to a whisk. I have one at home that I also used in the program. These many years later, I still remember the chant. It's like things from my own elementary school Spanish classes, like a tacky poem about the American flag that I can still recite. It starts with Roja, blanca, y azul, que bonito es mi bandera. I'll spare you the rest. 

I wonder if any of the kids I had in my program in Beverly still remember the chocolate chant, or any of the other elements of the program. I hope so. The main part of the program consisted of using familiar children's books, Where the Wild Things Are, Goodnight Moon, and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I chose them for their lyrical repititive qualities more than their renown, although that is also part of the reason they are such classics. I firmly believe in the use of music and rhythm and rhyme as a key part of language learning. I collected copies of the three books in as many languages I could find, and especially of Wild Things since the main character is named Max. I think I have it in about eight different languages, Spanish, French, German, Japanese, Dutch, a few more. 

But back to Mexican chocolate. It is different from other chocolate.  It has cinnamon in it. It may have other things too. I tried to find some unsweetend chocolate in the supermarket but couldn't. All the chocolate they had was sweetened and meant for hot chocolate. They did have some eating chocolate but it was not Mexican, was brands like Lindt and Hersheys.  The reason I wanted unsweetened Mexican chocolate is because I have been making my own mocha blend at home, half coffee and half unsweeted chocolate, put thru the French press. I've become quite fond of it. 

So, I wound up getting the Mexican table chocolate (that's what they call it) a brand called Abuelita. (little grandma.) That's me, I guess. The illustration of abuelita is remarkably similar to Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire.  It comes in a large tablet, serrated into 8 sections with the letters ABUELITA .  Cute. I was dissappointed to see it's owned by Nestle, though. 

So, every morning here I've been making my mocha with a cup of coffee and a section of Abuelita heated in the microwave. But the chocolate doesn't seem to quite melt  no matter how much I stir it. Which made me think, that's why you need the molinillo. Sure enough, as I read the package more carefully it specifically says it's best to stir it with a molinillo. Only problem, that won't work with a single mug, it's too big. And there isn't one in our kitchen here anyway.  The directions are more for making a quantity, a liter I think. Or maybe it will work with one of my large mugs and  molinillo at home. I'll have to try.

I've tried nibbling at the edge of the chocolate. It's not reallly meant or good for eating as a bar. The taste is good but it's very granular. Maybe there will be some Mexican bar chocolate in the big city, Oaxaca. We are heading there tomorrow for our last week in the country. 

So, this is our last night here in Estahuite beach. It's been much like the others. Breakfast in our apartment, eggs or yogurt and granola with bananas. Except for two days when we had breakfast at one of the beach restaurants. We had lunch, our usual shrimp ceviche with guacamole and tostadas, after a couple of hours lounging on the beach and playing in the water. Then  another couple of hours on the beach, and back here late afternoon. Tonight we'll pack, play cards, and read after eating up as much of the food we have left. Crackers, cheese, more avocados, cookies, rum and soda. Will probably take some of the leftovers with us and leave what we can't use for the two women who are the caretakers/housekeepers here. 

We will drive back to Oaxaca, leaving the car at the airport and then taxi into town.  Several years ago, at one of our salons, we had two Oaxacan woodcarvers, father and son, do a demonstration of their work at our house. They brought along a bunch of their delightful animal carvings, which are known as alejibres. There are towns around Oaxaca city that each specialize in a certain kind of handicraft that has been handed down through generations. The town that the Venturas are from is right on the way to Oaxaca so we hope we can find them. The father, Fabian, has since died, but Norberto, the son, and his wife continue the tradition.  I think he still comes to Massachussetts each October to help celebrate Dia de los Muertoss, and demonstrate and sell their work. 

This should be the last post from our beach sojourn, unless something extraordinary happens tonight!  More from the city in a few days. 

Oh, here's the whole Bate Chocolate chant:

Uno dos tres, cho, uno dos tres, co, uno dos la, uno dos tres, te. 

Bate, bate, chocolate! 

(using both hands to mime the action of twirling the molinillo to mix the hot chocolate in the pot.)

Let's Have a Party!

 As I've previously described, our days are very simple and similar, 4 or 5 hours on the beach, a meal while there, toes in the sand, a few dips in the ocean. And lots of reading, on the beach, in the hammock, on the verandah. And a few trips into town for groceries and cash. Very relaxing. 

Except for one day, several days ago. We'd watched from our porch as a truck made its way down the dirt road below our house and then unloaded lots of folding chairs. Obviously some kind of event in the works. On Sunday afternoon as we came back from the beach, there were tables set up, with pink tablecloths, on what was otherwise the dirt road. And then, people arrived and sat, and meals in styrofoam dishes and were distributed by a woman in a slinky dress. 

It was a birthday party. For a three year old girl. We saw her, running around in a fancy long dress. The woman handing out the meals was her mother. A band was setting up. And then a clown appeared, with a painted face and purple wild wig, and enormous shoes, of course. He turned out to be the mc, doing first activities with the kids, who'd lined up  their chairs in a row at his direction. There were contests of various kinds. One involved three pairs of boys and girls who were instructed to dance together and then the boys were supposed to toss the girl into the air. It was pretty strange, a little uncomfortable but also funny. 

 At some point the little girl was seated in a chair with her parents beside her. She was presented with a crown, which wouldn't stay on her head, and then with some gifts and finally a bouquet of flowers presented by a boy of perhaps five or six.

We watched it all, from above on our verandah. Loring had a translation program that converted the clown's words into English which sometimes made sense and sometimes didn't.

Later, there were some activities directed by the clown with adult participation. One involved three women who consequetively pretended to chase and then beat the clown with some kind of whisk.  Again, pretty weird and rather uncomfortable, for us at least.  

Then, a pinata. Of course. It was in the shape of the number three. There were people above holding a rope on either end and pulling it up and down.  And then a second pinata. And a third.  Both kids and adults whacked at them. I couldn't see what any of the pinatas spilled out but everyone, kids and adults, went for whatever it was. 

There was, finally, music. The band had been there all the while, a keyboard, guitar, singer, maybe another musician that we couldn't see because of the coconut palm between the partygoers and us. 

Gradually, some people got up to dance, some couples but more women than men, dancing alone or together. They played a few songs, and some people began to say their goodbyes and head out. We thought the party was over but the band continued to play and people continued to dance. The clown came back out and danced around with a tray filled with cake, handing it out and coming back with more, several times. 

At the side of this dirt road turned event venue was a partially completed house that we'd noticed from the first day, with three wall but an open front, an open suitcase filled with clothes, and what looked like a large plastic doghouse, or maybe a small kids' playhouse.  It was definitely inhabited. But for this night it was part of the party. We never found out where the birthday girl and family were from, right in this village, or really assortment of houses, or how far away. And also don't know if this is typical for a three year old's birthday. It seemed pretty elaborate. And that was our entertainment for one evening. instead of the reading, rum, and gin rummy for our usual evenings' entertainment here. 

Another observation: there are a number of partly constructed houses on the hillside here. But almost none have been undergoing construction while we are here. We don't know if they are houses that people are building as they have the money to do so, or places that have been started but never finished. Maybe a combination. We wonder if the new highway from Oaxaca has had the effect of people building up the area as has happened in so many places. There's a sign opposite our house that we at first thought was advertising a new development, with pictures of the beach and some buildings. But Loring used his translation app and took a photo of the sign and it turned out to be just the opposite, talking against development. 

That's it for tonite. It's starting to get dark and I can't see the keyboard anymore and anytime the little bugs I can't see but sure can find and bite me are about to come out. 

Hasta luego. 

Days of Easy Rhythms

Our days fall into an easy rhythm. Breakfast in our apartment, or rather on our verandah. Usually yogurt with a banana and granola. Some days, though, a couple of eggs or scrambled egg sandwich. And yesterday, breakfast at one of the beach restaurants. At about 10am, after reading the newspaper, ( can't throughly escape from the real world) we head down to the beach. The choice - which beach of three that we can walk to. And then, which restaurant. There are three or four on the close beach, a couple more on the further beach which is still very close. But we can't figure out where one restaurant ends and the next begins. The chairs and tables are all similar, as are the umbrellas. Even the menus are nearly identical. So we just try to choose different tables every day and hope we are choosing all of them in turn. We either have an early lunch or a late one on the beach, And our other meal we have in the apartment, either cheese and bread or crackers, proscuitto for the first few days until we finished it. Or, if we've had the earlier lunch on the beach, usually egg and cheese burritos for supper. The cheese is either queso blanco, a mild salty white cheese, or queso de Oaxaca, also a white mild cheese. We actually eat egg and cheese burritos at home for supper fairly often. So although it's Mexican, it's also from our own home culture at this poiont. I''m actually not sure if here in Mexico they make egg and cheese burritos. I should try to find out. For our early or late lunch on the beach, the choices are fish, shrimp, or octopus. You can have them cooked a variety of ways. I believe I've had shrimp most every day, except one or possibly two. There's shrimp salad( with mayo) shrimp cocktail(in a tomato sauce but not like at home with ketchup and horseradish.) and ceviche. The ceviche is "cooked" with lime juice, although I think they might poach it first. And served with lots of tomato, onion, and I think cilantro. A little spicy but not very. Everything comes with a basket of tostadas, flat baked or fried tortillas, They are similar to what we call hard tacos at home, but not folded. I believe the taco shells we buy at home are TexMex and not really Mexican at all. And nowadays the taco shells they serve in restaurants in the US. tend to be the soft ones. I've settle on shrimp ceviche plus guacamole as my beach meal of choice. Load it all up on a tostado and add some fresh lime juice and hot sauce and yum. A couple of evenings we've gone to a restaurant off the beach, just next door to our apartment. We've been practically the only customers, one other table but we think they are actually family. One night we had a whole fish, red snapper, which was enough for the two of us. It was delicious but the skin was a bit too charred for our taste. So last night we ordered the same kind of fish, but al vapor. (steamed.) There were more tostadas than we could eat, and he told us to take the rest home. The waves here are gentle, a constant lulling whether we are on the beach or here on the verandah. After a while I don't consciously notice the sound anymore, like a clock ticking in your house that you are so used to that you don't even hear it. But I think the lulling sound has a calming effect anyway. same for the view. I am a timid swimmer, actually don't really swim at all, more float along with the waves. I never learned to swim as a child, and maybe that's why. I took a swimming class in grad school. I am comfortable when the surf is very gentle as it is here, and the water is not over my head. It took me a few days to feel comfortable in the water by myself while Loring went off on one of his long swims. Now i feel comfortable floating around and listening to music on my much loved underwater mp3 player. my current playlist includes some Blondie, some Joni Mitchell, and a few songs with water themes like Crosby Stills Nash, and Young's Wooden Ships. And also Bruce Springsteen from the Seeger Tapes, a song called Oh Mary Don't You Weep, with its "Pharoh's Army Got Drowned"/ lyrics. A bit of irony. And, my alltime favorite underwater song, a piece from Cirque de Soleil's O, which is entirely performed in and underwater, and think is one of the best performances I've ever seen. I don't like swimming, don't feel comfortable in open water, and yet I love being in the water. The only exercises I truly enjoy are in the water, aqua aerobics, aquas zumba, aqua cycle, and an oddly named La Blast Splash, a licensed aqua dance program with great music and a delightful teacher. And, and I find this hard to believe myself, I took a scuba course some years ago, got licensed, along with our kids who were pretty young at the time, on a beach on an island in Nicaragua called Little Corn Island. And I liked it. I actuallly felt calmer deep in the water with a tank than I ever felt on the surface. Strange. Sadly, though, none of us ever continued diving. But I am glad I did it. Today I went out deeper than any day here, with Loring beside me. Maybe tomorrow I'll venture even further or at least further away from him. We shall see. We only have three more days here, so it's soon, or never!

What we've been reading

Whenever we travel we try to find books that reflect or take place in the environment we are visiting. For this trip we have about a half dozen. One was a series of vignettes that took place in Oaxaca, written in 1924 by DH Lawrence. It's called Morning in Mexico I read that first and found it interesting but didn't think Loring would like it. Loring first read a graphic novel called Death in Oaxaca that we didn't realize at first was a graphic novel. I havent' yet read it but will. He, then I, read a novel called Lost in Oaxaca. He said, and I agree, that it wasn't great literature but a fun read because of the locale. I'd classify it as chick lit, you know, when you can tell on the first pages that'she's going to fall for the handsome Mexican she thinks she hates. And then there's the Oliver Sacks one, Oaxaca Journal. I'm a big fan of his and have read many of his books. Loring, not so much. But this one was not about psychiatric conditions like his famous Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat, and others. It was actually about hunting for ferns in Oaxaca with a group of fern enthusiasts and experts. Yes you read that right, ferns. He apparently was part of a group that met regularly at the Bronx Botanical Gardens. A man of many interests. Loring has already read, and I am now reading, a book called Land Without a Continent. The author is Matt Savino. He drives overland from California down thru Mexico, visiting some of the places we've been and are going. He's very funny and observant, and self deprecating. I think it may be self published. I think there's only one more of our local interest literature, which actually isn't local to Oaxaca, but is a novel by a well known Mexican writer. I just read a review of her newest book in the Boston Globe. But the one I bought was a previous one. Her name is Cristina Rivera Garza. and book is Liliana's Invincible Summer. I had not heard of her previously, but thought it was a good time to discover a new Mexican writer. I'll let you know what I think of it after I've read it. I also continue to read the Boston Globe daily, although maybe a bit less thoroughly. It's easy to distance oneself somewhat but not entirely from events in the real world. As I read various stories I wonder how much the style and content of what I am reading influences my perceptions and observations. Driving here I notice, for instance the black trunks and branches of certain trees. I don't think I've ever noticed that before. Are they different trees or am I influenced by the precise details and observations of a writer like D.H. Lawrence or Oliver Sacks? And do the anecdotes of Matt in Land Without a Continent heighten my awaremeness of the amusing aspect of certain situations, like the 17 empty beer bottles on the table of a couple on the beach, or the two young women posing repeatedly in the shallow water, doubtless soon to be posted on some social medium?

The road here

I'll backtrack a bit and describe the drive here. We flew into Oaxaca but didn't go into the city. Stayed the first night at a hotel just south of the airport, toward the coast.  It was nothing special but fine. I think we were the only ones staying there, and it took about ten minutes for us to get the guy to come open the door to the courtyard parking and our room. Room number one. We asked if we could get a drink and the guy said he'd have to go out and get us a bottle and some soda water.  He said he'd send out "the kid" but we'd have to give him the money for him to buy it. He looked like a kid himself but guess this was a younger kid. He came back with a large bottle of Bacardi, a large bottle of club soda, and a huge bag of ice. We only used a small portion of the ice, left it sitting in the sink, and most of it was still there in the morning. I hope they had a use for it. 

We drove here on the "new" road which only opened a couple of years ago. But it had been under construction for fifteen years. On the old road, which is actually shorter in distance, the trip would take about five or six hours. This took about three. 

The first part of the drive there was a lot of traffic and a lot of businesses, many hotels and small restaurants. We stopped at one for breakfast. I had been looking forward to some kind of Mexican breakfast, huevos rancheros or something like that. But they didn't have eggs. It was more of a cafe than a breakfast place. They had crepes and pastries and all kinds of coffees and lattes, not exactlly what I'd been anticipating. I had banana nutella crepes, a huge plate and really good although not very Mexican. Loring had the only real Mexican item on the menu. It was chilaquiles, a mound of crisp tortillas covered with cheese and chicken and sauce.  The crisp flat tortllas seem to be the common thing here, rather than soft ones. We've been served them in restaurants and bought them packaged in the supermarket. 

After a while the traffic and commerce thinned out. The road was twisty and downhill. We were going from an altitude of about 6000 to sea level. After about the first hour we began to come across areas where there were washouts and where crews were working to repair the road and reinforce the embankments with netting and concrete. It continued intermittently to the coast. We thought there had to have been serious flooding and looked it up later. There had indeed been major looding not that long ago, about four months  ago back in October. 

We are now on our fifth night here.  The other three apartments have been occupied but we have only seen the folks staying next door to us. They have been here about ten days but left today. The other folks have cars and must still be here. A funny thing, a couple of nights ago a man opened the door and began to walk in, then realized he was in the wrong apartment and got very flustered and apologetic and left. So I guess we have seen  one of the other guests.

 Our days here have been simple and relaxing. We did have to drive about twenty minutes to a town with a working ATM a few days ago after the one in the nearest place was broken. Other than that, it's been up about 6am, just before dawn, not such a different schedule from at home. Then a couple of hours reading the Boston Globe or our books. Then breakfast. Sometime later in the morning down to the beach, just a dozen or so steps down. Choice of the two beaches here, separated by a outcropping of rocks with a path cut between them. Decision between early lunch here at the apartment , then early dinner about 4pm on the beach. Or late lunch on the beach, about 2pm, and light dinner back at the apartment. Our meals have been a ll fish or seafood. Lots of shrimp. All with rice and salad and flat crisp tortillas. 

Hola Mexico!

This is our third day of a three week sojourn in Mexico, and tonight will be our second night at Casa Delphin in the small area near Estacahuite, which is near Puerto Angel. It's not even a village, really, more an area on a small cove with several homes and hotels, and several beach restaurants. Casa Delphin is a four apartment building a short walk above the beach. It's just the kind of place we like to stay, fairly quiet and with calm and swimmable water. The folks on the beach are mostly local, largely day trippers as far as we can tell. 

The restaurants are all on the sand, with a half dozen or so tables with umbrellas. It's hard to know where one restaurant stops and the next starts. Yesterday we moved a chair over to our table and the woman came out and explained that chair belonged to the next restaurant over! 

 We've just eaten at that one place so far. And get this:  last night we only had 350 pesos. The places don't take credit cards, and the ATM in the village was broken, not uncommon, we gather. So I explained to the woman, or thought I had, how much money we had. I had asked for a filet of fish, but then changed it to ceviche. But she brought out both. When it came time to pay, I explained again that we only had so much in pesos. I was ready to give her dollars just as a deposit until we could get more money today. But she just said we could pay her the next day. And we did, today, And we felt compelled to eat there again today, and give her a big tip. So we had ceviche again, always a favorite since our times in Peru. But it's made differently here, actually it's different everyplace. Always marinated, in lime juice. In Peru it's served with sweet potatoes and corn. Here it is with onion, tomato, avocado, And cilantro. And the fish or seafood can vary. Yesterday's was mixto, shrimp and octopus. Today we asked for just shrimp. So much shrimp!. We shared a large plate. It's served with tacos, hard flat ones, which seem popular here. Loring had them as the base for his chilequile breakfast the other day on our way here from Oaxaco city. And they're sold in packages in the grocery store. 

So much, though, for my stated intention to take it easy foodwise for at least the first few days, to make sure my stomach was cooperating. And then I go and have raw fish two days in a row. 

The beach restaurants close early, surprisingly. Our neighbors here at the Casa told us to be aware that they do, and sure enough, they started taking down the umbrellas at about 4pm. 

Today we went to the nearby town of Pochutla where google maps said there were multiple ATMs. It's about a 20 minute drive from here. No trouble finding one, and there were at least three large supermarkets as well. So we stocked up on some items we hadn't been able to find yesterday at the more local store. Now we have yogurt, granola, bananas, grapefruit, melon, several cheeses, crackers, bread, eggs. butter. Our plan is to have breakfast at home, a large meal at one of the restaurants, and a snack or light meal either noon or evening. An interesting observation about packaged food at the supermarket: packages are labeled as high sugar or high fat when appropriate. I'm not sure how much attention people pay to that, but it's one way that Mexico seems ahead of the U.S. in food labelling. 

The water has been fairly calm here, and it's been full of people, adults and kids, frolicking and staying in the water for hours, it seems. 

So, so far, so good. We are settling in to a daily rythm and will be here about two weeks before heading to Oaxaca city for our last week. We hear there's a street parking ban going into effect back at home in anticipation of the next storm. Glad we'll be missing it. 

Onto Edinbourgh and the Festival Fringe

We are now in Edinbourgh and the Festival Fringe. The Fringe started as a modest festival in 1947, with eight different venues. Or maybe it was just eight performances. Now there are hundreds of venues and over 3000 different performances. What was originally the Fringe of the International Festival, has over time become the main event. I was here in 1970, between my two years of college in Paris. I came by myself. I don't remember much of it at all, except that I stayed at a b&b with a couple. The man was a butcher. The breakfasts were large and featured a lot of meat. I thought at the time it was due to his being a butcher. But in retrospect it was a typical Scottish breakfast, similar to the ones on this trip. It seems like a dream, or a different lifetime. 

  Yesterday we watched one of the many street performers, a man who played on five gallon plastic bins, as well as on damaged cybals, and "his mother's pots." He went around the audience playing on fences and various things in the environment. I held out my walking poles and he played on those. It reminded me of the only performance I remember from my visit here 55 years ago. That was a group called Stomp. I have never figured out if it is the same group that has become famous and played around the world. I thought it must be, but never saw a reference to the Fringe on their info. I'll have to check again with better resources now. I told the drummer. He was American but apparently travels the world making his living as a street performer. All the street performers made the same speech, saying this is their job and livelihood, and asking for donations if you liked the performance. They suggest 5 lbs, 10 if you are a family, and that they'd appreciate 20. We gave each one we saw 10. I asked the drummer where in the States he was from. He grew up in Queens. I told him that I grew up in the Bronx. 

We saw a number of street performers over the days. There were singers, jugglers, fire eaters, other kinds of performers. I would guess most of them were from Britain, but can't say for sure. The first one we saw was an overweight man with a huge belly. He was very funny, Loring's favorite and maybe mine too. He had quite the repartee.  He, and all the performers, recruited "volunteers" from the audience. He started with asking a man to hold the end of a rope stretched tight. He eventually got up to 8 men and it still wasn't clear if he was going to balance or do anything on it.  Then he stripped down to a thong, making some lewd jokes while he sat on the rope. The Scottish sense of what is family friendly is obviously a little more lenient than ours. He also had a tennis racket, without strings, around his neck.  Eventually he did balance on the rope, and finally pulled the racket down over his shoulders, torso, and legs, stepping out of it while still on the rope. It was impressive but the best part was his ongoing gags throughout the show.  My other favorite was the last one we saw, yesterday. She was just setting up as we arrived. Her name was Steph. Not sure where she was from. There were several facets to her act. She had two members of the audience put her in a straightjacket and chains, and escaped within two minutes. She also had a puppet, and was a  ventriloquest. She put masks on the same two volunteers, and then, throwing her voice again, had them sing and act silly, pumping the mouths on the masks open and closed with hoses attached to the masks.  I had never seen a ventriloquist do anything like that. It was very clever and funny. 

In all, we went to about ten paid performances over the five days. it's difficult to choose because there are a zillion choices. Twice we went to shows based on someone at home's recommendation, and both were terrific. We first saw a one woman show called the Golden Hour. That was recommended by a friend of our friend Yvonne, who was in Edinbourgh and had seen it. Before the show a woman asked me how we'd heard about it, and I told her it was via a friend at home who'd heard about it from a friend at the Festival. She was impressed that word of mouth had traveled so far. Turns out it was the performer herself, not an usher as I'd thought. She was just great. It was about an educational theory in Scotland to detract free "golden"  time from kids who had misbehaved or not done well, at the end of each week. It's an actual theory, created by a woman who discussed it on a video that was part of the show. The actor had experienced it herself in school,as had many in the audience. She had very briefly been a teaching assistant who sympathized with a kid who was kind of an outsider. She got fired after a short time at the school, and now works bringing  different programs for children to schools(and doing a one person show, at least at the Fringe, and hopefully at other times as well. ) 

The other recommended show was also one-woman show, recommended by our sister-in-law Jill, who has heard the performer on a podcast they listen to. Her name is Ria Lina. She is a British actor of Filipino heritage, who has an American accent. (she lived in the US for some time.) She has written and performed several shows, this being the latest one. She talked about many things, including her heritage as an Asian woman, her marriage, children, and divorce. and the fact that she and her ex husband still live together, and how that works. 

The other shows I picked mostly by reading descriptions and reviews. The first night, when we had just arrived, we went to a cabaret. We came in a bit late and took the last two seats. They had stopped collecting money.  It was basically a burlesque show, hosted by a man who was not very funny. There were about five acts. All except one were drag queens who stripped down to tassels and not much else. The other was a thin young woman. One thing - I assumed they were all men, they were all pretty large and had masculine looking faces. But, they all had female breasts!  Loring thought they were all women, because of that.  I was puzzled; they looked pretty real, maybe had had top surgery to get them?  I definitely do not understand the intricacies of drag. And in retrospect,  the one attractive young  woman may actually have been a man or trans man or non binary per w2son.  In any case, we both thought the show was dreadful!  Luckily, we hadn't paid anything for it.

It fascinates me how crucial it is in our society to identify people by gender, from the time a baby is born. We don't even have gender free language to use. Maybe the use of the word "they" as a singular form will eventually take hold in the general population but I doubt I will ever get comfortable  using it. I wish there could be another new pronoun that didn't sound weird to  older ears like mine. 

For the other shows, I leaned toward choosing musicals. The first we chose was  play, called How to Win Against History,  based on a true story of a marquis in the 19th century who was gay, and chose to live his own life. The acting was great and the direction tight, with not a false moment. I have to look into the true story. 

Then, another musical called Jaffa Cakes. I'd read a review from earlier in the festival. There are many many people reviewing various shows, newspaper reviewers from Scotland and abroad, and various individuals. You can only take one reviewer's opinions so far, since so much is a matter of individual taste.  Speaking of taste, Jaffa Cakes was great. It is also based on a true story, a court case in the 1990's to determine if the popular Jaffa Cakes are a cake or a biscuit. A biscuit in Britain is what we call a cookie. The case mattered because biscuits are taxed and cakes are not. It's complicated. The show was very clever, with five actors playing multiple parts. People we talked to were surprised that we Americans weren't familiar with Jaffa Cakes. Apparently everyone in Scotland, and probably all of Great Britain, grows up with them. Of course, on the way back from the play to our apartment we had to stop to buy a package of Jaffa Cakes. I quite like them, Loring not so much. They have a slightly spongy base, an orange flavored center, and a chocolate top. I ate most of the package but still have a few in my backpack. They may not make it back to the US. 

The show called Luigi caught my attention for two reasons: it had sold out audiences in SF, where it originated, and because the subject was three criminals who all had been in the same prison together, Diddy, Sam Bankman Fried, whose mother I'd gone to high school with, and Luigi Mangione, who shot and killed the health care CEO on the street in Manhattan. The play was controversial because some thought it gloried Luigi, the main subject of the play. The actors were four comedians who'd written the show together. They denied that they'd glorified him, ony wanted people to think about the fact that so many have. In any case, the show, in both of our opinions, was  terrible. Too bad, because the concept was fascinating. But the script, and the acting too, was sophomoric.  

We attended one show that was not part of the Fringe, but part of the original International Festival, which over the years has been superceded by the Fringe. That play is called Faustus in Africa. It's not a new play, it's over 30 years old, created and performed by the Handspring Puppet Theatre of South Africa. It had been highly reviewed. I had seen, over a decade ago, their much heralded play WarHorse, also performed by large puppets, at Lincoln Center in New York. This show was at the Lyceum Theater, a beautiful large theatre a little outside of the central Fringe, but still in walking distance from our apartment. The tickets were much more expensive than the Fringe shows, which are all an hour an all cost about $20. They were also hard to get. I got what I believe was the very last ticket for the last performance, before we left home. Our hope was that more tickets would be available close to the day of the performance. And indeed, a few were, including, amazingly, the one next to mine! So we were both able to go. Unfortunately, both of us were kind of bored by the play, and we both dozed off. The puppets themselves are very impressive, and it's wonderful to watch them with the puppeteers in view. But the play was very dry, we both thought. And the theatre was very warm, which didn't help. All the venues were too warm, and none have air conditioning. Scotland is almost never this warm, and so they aren't prepared for the heat. It was beautiful weather all the time we were there, but everyone local commented on how unusual it was. 

The Fringe venues vary in size and are in all kinds of spots. Some hold only about thirty, others are much larger. For many, you have to go through a bar or restaurant and up a flight or stairs, or several. The shows are booked back to back so one audience has to exit for the next to enter, only about 10 minutes before the show. And the actors break down the sets themselves, immediately after they take their bows. 

Yesterday morning was the only day we saw three shows. We are sure that many people do much more, but this worked out well for us. In between shows, we walked around, ate at retaurants or grabbed a pasty or croissant on the street, went home and took a nap, etc. 

  We started the day yesterday before noon with Truman, a one-man show depicting Truman Capote. The actor was great. A few days earlier someone had approached me at one of the beer gardens with a flyer for the show. I told him we already had tickets. I'm not sure he believed me. He said, "Oh ya do, do ya." In retrospect I think it was the actor himself. It was a small older man, unlike the majority of the flyer hander outers who are young. In any case, the actor was great. He greatly portrayed what I remember of Capote. I also am sure that I understood a lot of the references that nobody else in the audience did, like the Black and White Ball he created in New York in the 60s. (He did explain the references.)  It was the combination of the New York setting and the time period, which much of the audience didn't live through. But many seemed to know at least who he was. 

A couple of hours later, after a walk around town, we attended the 360 All Stars, in a large stadium-like theatre, the largest venue we'd attended other than to see Faustus at the Lyceum. It was a hip hop performance, consisting of two djs, one a drummer and the other a keyboardist, each up on a platform above the stage.  They were both very good.  The woman was terrific.  She came down from the platform at a couple of points to rap and dance with the others. think she was from the US. The drummer was the creator and was, I believe, Scottish. 

The other performers were four men, the all star champions of various competiions, each with his own specialty. They each performed individually and then together. One was a bicyclist, one did a hoop performance that was mesmerizing and graceful, one was a basketball artist who did various things including juggling, with four of them. And one was a floor dancer, who was from New York. The others were from different countries, one I think from the Netherlands, one from Hungary, and I believe one was Scottish. We found out afterwards there had been a fifth performer who had been injured in an earlier show. The rest of them had to rechoreograph and rehearse it to perform without him.The audience for this show was quite different from the others we attended, large and with many kids attending.. 

Our last show, yesterday night, was called Falling in Love with Mr. Dellormand. It was another I'd read positive reviews of. It was a campy musical with five performers. We'd gotten over our hesitation about sitting in the front row, which I'd still not do in a comedy or interractive show. In the small theatre, we were incredibly close to the actors. I don't think I 've ever sat nearly that close to performers. The show was described as a gothic musical. It was five actors, Mr. Dellormond being the owner of an isolated inn who invites the others to a party. The premise is that no one can help falling in love with Mr. Dellormond. It turns out that he is the Angel of Death, who kills all his victims with a kiss. The whole thing is very silly and campy, and all the characters are totally overdrawn. And they are all very good singers. One additional thing, the musical accompaniment is by a musician playing a theremin. an unusual instrument that is played without touching it. It has an appropriately eerie sound, and is played with gestures above it, which melds wonderfully with the rest of the performance. 

The Festival was a great experience, despite the streets being crowded wherever we went. We knew they would be, and that's just a part of the event. And although the restaurants were also crowded, we never had a real problem finding a place, usually outdoors, where we wanted to be. There were a few times in the evening that places said they were finished serving food when we got there at about eight pm. which surprised us at a time when the streets were still crowded.  But we always found someplace we liked after a couple of tries. We tried to eat Scottish foods as much as possible. My favorite may have been Cullen Skink, a soup with smoked haddock, potatoes, leeks, and cream. Richer than I'd eat at home, but I'm going to try to make a less rich version. Loring liked the baked meat pies, and had bangers and mash, traditional sausage and mashed potatoes.  Many restaurants had delicous sides of vegetables of various sides. A couple of nights we just did that, for a tapas-like meal. We both tried the traditional haggis, which seems to be on every menu. It tastes ok but I couldn't get over the fact that it's all innards ground up, although if I didn't know it I am sure I would have liked it. They do make a vegetarian version with lentils, but we didn't try it. We tried fish and chips, because it seemed we ought to, not expecting much. But it was delicious, with a light batter resembling tempura. If we were there longer, I would have had it again. We didn't have black pudding or sausage, which is made from blood. Although I had had it many years ago and thought it was delicious when I didn't know what it was. 

Last night we had our last meal at an outdoor cafe in the same square we'd eaten mussels at a different restaurant a few nights before. When we sat down we found out that the kitchen was closing but if we ordered right away they could do it. And they did. I had a fish stew that was described as Irish, but was similar to the traditional Scottish soup I'd had before. The couple next to us, who were Scottish, started talking to us and we chatted for quite a while. I'm not sure where they lived but they were camping in a tent outside  town, for a week, and taking a bus in each day. They were very friendly, and we could understand much of what they said! Some people have accents so thick that it isn't easy for us to understand. 

We're now on the plane home, about halfway there, and I think I've come to the end of this saga. Hopefully nothing eventful will happen before we get there. 

It's been a great trip, to all three locations. And even if we didn't get to see much of the countryside without driving, I am perfectly happy to have visited the town of Pitclochry and the two cities. I expect many of the other locations, like Loch Ness and Loch Lomond, and the Harry Potter and Outlander locations, are touristed more than we prefer. 

So I'll end here unless anything worth reporting on happens in the next couple of hours. It will be about 2pm when we arrive home, but 7pm on Scotland time. 

I hope you've enjoyed reading this. I write primarily for my own benefit. It's amazing how much I forget without rereading about it myself! But I am always happy when I know that others have read and enjoyed reading about our travelling adventures.