Home alone.
Home again? Yes, that’s where I am, for about two days.
I was digging out the paperwork I keep on file, for my last trip, the accounting end of business, and I came across a receipt for “The Metropolitan.” It’s an upscale place in the Alamo City’s “The Quarry,” which, in and of itself, is a pretty interesting development. I think, I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure its location is featured in one of Ric (Gemini, married to a Gemini) Riordan’s books, maybe Big Red Tequila? (Which is a good book. Any author who can work in Peet’s Coffee, Big Red and Tequila, plus some adventure in SA? Got to be good.)
The Metropolitan had a nice feel, as much as anything, under the cool SA sky? Felt like Paris. Paris, France. Didn’t hurt that there were some folks speaking languages that were not English, some Spanish, to be expected, but there was also something else. Maybe French. Oh so very cosmopolitan.
Dessert took about half an hour, maybe longer, but then, a soufflé can’t be cooked up in a hurry. The espresso was done with real Italian-roasted beans, or so it looked like. Don’t hold me to that, but it was nice, under that October sky.
