I’ve got a cricket in my living room. This is no joke. People don’t joke about these things, so why should I? It popped down next to me about two hours ago and quickly disappeared after I figure it thought it would get whacked if it hung around any longer. Now every once in a while it shakes and shimmies. I guess that as long as it doesn’t keep me awake at night it can stay. I won’t even charge it rent.
Like any Spanish event, San Isidro also has its own share of gastronomy. In addition to beer served in liter-sized plastic cups called ironically “minis”, the real fare is a sweet treat which anyone who has teeth can enjoy. They are called rosquillas, and they are basically similar doughnuts in that they are round rings of fried dough. Heck, they are doughnuts, what am I talking about. The two classic types are: las listas and las tontas (the smart ones and the dumb ones). The former are lathered with a thick layer of some kind of glaze, often lemon-flavored, and the others are just plain. I recommned the listas because the tontas are as dry as you can get. They never were good, and no one has done much to improve on them since. I may have to go down to my friend Nuno’s, the expert pastry chef, and see what he has done with them, other than use them to pad the legs of his furniture with.
And that’s about it. Except for the lemonade you sometimes see around; but that tends to be for the hardcore San Isidro partyers. Other than that, it’s pretty much business as usual here.