Sweaty Spanish Soiree

At the invitation of my cultural attache buddy Curro, I went to the Spanish ambassador's residence last night for an "arts & culture preview." I'd never been to the ambassador residence-y part of DC before I guess, didn't know it existed over there. And my impression is that I might be the only guest who took the bus and then wound around on sidewalk-less roads in 90+ heat. I was a sweaty mess when I arrived, which contributed to the fact that I was too shy to photograph the plentiful empanadas, tortilla, linguica etc, but I have a headache today proving that I had too much cold Spanish white wine. I did take a lot of pictures in the bathroom. The bathroom was disappointing.

Actually, the whole experience was kind of disappointing in terms of access. I mean, I wanted to see the ambassador's bedroom, check out what's in his fridge, borrow some of his vicodin. I guess that's why they have the big sterile guest part of the residence with industrial-style bathrooms, so that folks like me can't put the honorable toothbrush in our armpits and steal exotic Spanish Q-tips. But I thought there should at least be a little decoration in there, some soft towels, a waste bin instead of a maxi-pad depository, god...

As is increasingly the case with these kinds of events, I refrained from heavy socializing, and I stuck like a tick to my beloved Tony Gittens, who regaled me with his upcoming sabbatical and travel plans. And, in true Mohr fashion, I mooched a ride home in the major thunder/lightning/hail storm with Jesse Cohen of artdc.org (who looks remarkably like Jonas Mekas in this foto) and his kind partner, Amy. That was nice. But ho hum. I need a Bank lunch pick-me-up to restore my diplomatic spirit.