Aren’t you always curious about someone’s house? Curious about their choices, their desires? Because isn’t that what a house is to some extent? A manifestation of the desires of those who occupy it?
I’m not sure that this place represents us but I would say that it’s working just fine at the moment. There are a few things I might change (no! to polyester sheets and damp towels that smell like grandma’s cabin) though I can do anything for a few days.
Realize that this stop could be spelled any number of ways – I’ve figured out that if you say Nove – you’ll get to the right place.
Calle de les Tre Crose – another name that changes depending on which map you’re looking at. But it’s the street where we live …for the moment.
Robert in his birthday hat on the way to the apartment.
I’m thinking the bells weren’t there in the 12th century when the building was constructed.
The front door is the first one on the right – you can’t see it, but I estimate that it’s about 5’10 inches tall. R ducks to get in and I duck unnecessarily – in sympathy.
The window in our bedroom is 5 feet away from the one across the narrow back corridor.
And the view from the window, me hanging on by my toes, camera strapped around my wrist. I’ve hung out the window at least three times a day since we’ve been here.
Tomorrow we leave for Rovinj, in Istria. We take a water taxi, a train and then a bus. Tomorrow evening we should be where we intend to stay for a while.