October 4, 2019 - 21 - "Name That House"

  

Las Nomadas by Juan Diaz Duran

   So we need a house name. 

     It feels very Jane Austen-novel-ish to need to name your house.  Pretty much in America we just say:  home.  If you're really fancy and have two places you might say:  'the cabin', or 'the lake house'.

     In Mexico lots of houses have names.  They have little painted plaques outside.  Noticing these is one of the many fun diversions when walking the streets around town.

     Casa Bougainvillea, Casa Agave, Casa Cumpleanos..., they all seem so pretty and romantic.  One of my favorites is: Casa Macarena.  (Though I can't imagine using that as it gives you an instantaneous, and tough to dislodge, earworm.  Not to mention a strong desire to dance badly.)

    We called our first place in Mexico:  Casa Mikkasuki.  Big mistake.



    We'd seen a Ken Burns special about the National Parks that talked about a tribe of Indians in the Everglades called The Miccosukees.  I said:  "Hey!  We've found our tribe!"  (Micco...for Michael, and he calls me Suki...so, ya know, it was us.)  Casa Mikkasuki seemed hilarious and that's how we referred to it between us.

     Unfortunately, the day came when Michael was arranging with a company to rent the place.  When put on the spot for a name, that's what he said.  Casa Mikkasuki turned out to be an embarrassing and annoying name for so many reasons:  It sounds self-absorbed, requires telling that back story, is hard to spell, and hard to pronounce... 

     Then this unfortunate name became the name of the business where we organized our expenses and income from the house.  So we inadvertently made lots of people have to say it.   I felt sorry for everyone from our rental property managers, guest greeters, the guests themselves, but mostly for our accountant. 

     Accountants aren't meant to have to say silly made-up words and names.  It's cruel to expect it of them.

     All this to say:  this time we need to get it right.

    As in most things, my thoughts turn first to humor.  David Sedaris (God love him) named his family beach house:  The Sea Section.  Benny Hill once had a skit where the characters lived on a plantation named:  Passing Wind.  I also like the clever anti-Facebook name on that stone wall in this post. But, so far I haven't come up with anything equally clever.

     I googled articles regarding 'How to Name Your House' and learned that it's traditional to name your house in the local language.  That makes sense, but also makes any attempt at humor that much more challenging.  Coming up with something funny in a language I struggle to even buy groceries in seems unwise.  It might end up funny in ways I do not intend.

 
 Our first idea was Casa Nomadas.  (Nomads House)  We fell in love with a painting by that name and bought it for the house.  I thought the name kind of fit our peripatetic lives.  It also seemed appropriate for globe-traveling guests that would one day stay there.

     But, on the other hand, even though a person is traveling, or maybe especially because they are traveling: they're looking for a place to call home.  No matter how short the stay, memories are made by the places that provide a sense of newness and wonder along with a lot of cozy creature comforts.   Shelter in the storm, a welcoming place to hang our hats, in other words:  home.  A home-away-from home maybe, but still a sense of home is what we crave.  A place to stop the nomadic wandering.

     Maybe Casa Nomadas isn't quite the right fit.
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The beam between the dining room and the living room, where a lot of old keys are nailed up.  

    We're now thinking of:  Casa de Llaves  (House of Keys. )

  The walls of our dining room were once the walls of the garden of the church behind us.  We're told the columns by the entry to the dining room were from the old church.  On a beam over these columns, above the entry to the dining room there are a couple dozen old keys nailed up.

     We've yet to learn the story of these.  Maybe it was merely a collection of some former owner?  Maybe they once were tied to the ropes around a monks waist and used to enter the various rooms of the church and monk's quarters?  All we know for sure is that they are there...and we've never owned another house with such a collection of cool old keys.

     Not long after this possibility occurred to us, we saw another painting by that artist we like, and it had a key as a 'key' (ha ha) element.  We then remembered we have another painting at home of a woman holding a key.  (On loan from the collection of Allie Regan.)  Then, (More synchronicity.  That's always a good sign for any decision or endeavor.), we stumbled upon an oversized decorative key in a shop.  It was just the right size for a little niche in the stairwell we'd been at a loss to fill.

    And the references keep adding up...  So far, it's kind of looking like a winner.  No one's asked us to give them a name for our house yet so it remains unofficial.  But we're liking it.  

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"What's in a name? that which we call a rose

by any other name would smell as sweet."

-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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"A house without a name is a house without a soul."

-Graham Gould 
(This would seem much more meaningful and much less mercenary if Graham Gould was not referred to as an 'Australian House Nameplate supplier')
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