As we say here in Montreal, “Hola, muchachos!”
No, actually, what they say here in Montreal is “Non, madam, vous may not pay with an American credit card,” but that’s another story for another time. A short story that amounts to “why I haven’t had any chocolate croissants yet.”
But anyway, today I learned an exciting poem. It goes like this:
El minche de esa rumí dicen no tenela bales; los he dicaíto yo, los tenela muy juncales;
I don’t know what it means, not speaking Spanish, but I have been assured that, if someone in Andalusia recites that poem in my presence, I will have no trouble getting dark eyed men to smooch me. I assume it’s some kind of a love charm. As I do in all matters Spanish, I will rely on Mack’s aid. Hopefully, he’ll agree to recite it in front of handsome men in order to unleash its power.