Colin, the singing cowboy, asked for 30 minutes more, so I moved to the maple and set up in the shade.  It was another very fine day.  Early on, a young woman gave me a dollar, but that was it for this location.  I managed to get a French family to hula, a boy and his two sisters, while mere and pere looked on, yet, at the end of the set, they walked away without so much as a merci.

At the fountain again, Colin was packing up.  I quickly restored my case and all my paraphernalia, and started my set over again with “Making Love Ukulele Style.”  A Korean family sat on the bench and listened.  A little boy in what looked like a sailor suit and hat was fascinated.  After a few songs, mom and dad policed the area for litter, then sent their son to me with a dollar.

The next half hour passed without a hula, let alone a donation, until a rowdy bunch of Costa Ricans and Colombians entered the fountain.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”

“Of course,” said a young man enthusiastically.

I handed out leis, even taking the one off my own neck to accommodate all the dancers.  They needed no instruction; they were dancing before I finished telling them about the hukilau.  The second verse kicked off a display of gyrations, dips and wiggles, encouraged by the photographer, who systematically took pictures with the different cameras everyone had handed him.  The end of the dance concluded with handshakes and air kisses, and a pair of fivers plus change in my case.

“Costa Rica and Colombia,” I said, “are now my favorite countries.”

A boy of 16-17 listened from afar.  When his family started moving away, he approached me with a crumpled dollar and a big grin.  He walked away backward while I sang “I Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone,” trying to catch the words before turning to catch up with his family.

Yielding $14.81, it turned out to be an excellent outing.