We have discovered over time that breakfasts here aren’t quite what we are used to in Santa Fe. We can make our own breakfasts here, of course, but where is the fun in that? We can go to a café and sit inside our outside, but the options are often limited to a couple of kinds of coffee and bread; bread with olive oil, bread with olive oil and tomato paste, bread with olive oil and jamon (ham). You get the idea. I have not yet been able to convince Patricia that churros con chocolate constitute a well-balanced breakfast so churros are not on the morning menu. I think of breakfast as something one eats before 9:00 am, but that isn’t the case here. Breakfast seems to last until—literally—noon. All this is by way of saying that for the best choices for breakfast, one must find a restaurant which is a) open in the morning and b) serves breakfast.

Fortunately, we know of just such a place: Albores. We headed over there at around 10:00 am Saturday. It was too chilly to sit outside, and after one of our typical discussions about where to sit inside, we started making choices about what to have. Oddly enough, I am often more comfortable with the menu in Spanish than English, probably because the English translations often leave a great deal to be desired. But this time we only had an English version. While we were deciding, a very British voice from the table next to us offered some suggestions. That opened up a conversation that lasted for almost 2 hours. The British voice belonged to Michael who was there with his wife, Monica (I probably have that name wrong). He is from England and she is from Spain. They have lived in Jerez for about 4 years. Pretty soon we have multi-way conversations going on. After a while we were joined by their two grown children and a friend. We talked about many things and had a great time. The food was pretty good, too. Well, it was good when they finally got my order correct.

There were 2 peña performances on our list for Saturday afternoon but a look at a map convinced us both places would be a long walk.

For dinner we went to a jamon store which prepares sandwiches. We brought a couple of them home for after the performance of Fertíl by José Quevedo “Bolita” at Sala Compañía.

The venue is, like Teatro Villamarta, only a 6 or 7 minute walk from our apartment. The concert was simple and eloquent. Bolita, sometimes accompanied by his son, and a percussionist, played a range of guitar music from de Falla to Piazzolla as well as flamenco. Some of the flamenco I would categorize as “fusion” or “jazz”. We had great seats and I enjoyed watching how his fingers moved so quickly in complex patterns yet made the music seem very straightforward and understandable. The accompaniment was subtle and never overwhelmed the main guitar. Quevedo is a Jerezano and is clearly well-known and was appreciated by the audience.

I mentioned the short walk from our apartment to Sala Compañía. Most of it is along a windy street named, confusingly, Plaza San Marcos. [Plazas should be open spaces. Right?] There are 4 churches, a couple of hemandades, and a religious charity or 2 in that short walk.

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