Sort of the last day. Tomorrow is the real last day but we have to get our Covid tests and then deal with the results. Both of us feel absolutely fine but then so did Kamala Harris.
But back to today. Turned out to be lovely. Weather wise and otherwise. The Museum of Pharmacology, a cappuccino and pastry with a river view, discovering the Indian/Pakistani neighborhood, a tour through the Doll Hospital (yep), a nice meal and a long walk home along the river front.
Hospital de Bonecas. The Doll Hospital. Grubb looked at me cross-eyed every time I mentioned it. Stepping inside the store front was like entering another time zone. The shop is as wide as a hallway. Barely. Stuffed with dolls, dollhouse miniatures, and other doll paraphernalia.
I asked if we could visit. Yes, for 3.50€, you can have a tour of the upstairs where 6000 dolls are stuffed into every possible space. Cash only, it takes a full 10 minutes for the shop keeper to come back with the change. And then we are told “Just a moment”. Another 10 minutes and a helper shows up to watch the front while shopkeeper … oh heck, I’m just going to call her Maria, gives us the tour.
Maria grabs a huge ring of keys and through the looking glass we go. But first, shoe covers! She hands us each two. I sit on the single low stool and put my shoe covers on. Then goes Grubb. He breaks the first one. He breaks the second one. He breaks a third one. Maria gives up. Let’s just get this tour on the road.
The time warp bends and stretches and flip backs on itself as any good B horror film would. Maria refers to herself as a “nurse” who diagnoses the problem and prepares the estimates. Porcelain face caved in? Eye missing? Leg torn off? The doll doctors are in and they will fix up the patient as good as new.
Drawers are stuffed with doll body parts.
Maria whips out half an egg carton with different sizes of eyes attached nestled where eggs would normally be. A flick of the wrist and the eyelids open and shut with a small click.
This “hospital” has been in existence since 1830, through five generations of the same family. Nearly 200 years. It kinda shows.
