“Tiene café aqui?” I asked.
“Of course we do!” came the surprised response.
I looked at Fifi whose eyebrows had travelled sceptically northwards: “Well, that’s news to me” she suggested. “I’ve never had a coffee here – I just didn’t think they did it.”
“Sure, I mean, where’s the machine after all?” I said looking around. Nada.
I asked for a descafeinado. “But” I said, “Will it really be descafeinado?”
“D’jes – of course!” replied our lovely waiter; “I will make it myself!”
Unsure whether that would be the difference between up all night and just pleasantly sleepy, I threw caution to the winds: “Okay” I said, “Let’s do it!”
The Cortado arrived. The arresting image of a mouse’s face, or was it a cat, stared up at me. He was smiling, but the shape of his eyebrows suggested he had something on his mind, indeed that he was concerned, perhaps even worried. Spots where there could be whiskers – but weren’t – surrounded his dot of a nose, and his eyes – two circles surrounding pupils which wandered in alternative directions. To be fair, this arresting apparition looked like he’d had a late night, or perhaps, not even slept at all.
“Ooooh, he’s sooooo cute!” I exclaimed to our man. “Do you have a maquina to make him?”
“Yo!…Yo! He grinned. “I am the maquina, the machine!”
We all laughed. A laugh fortified by a bottle of Juve Y Camps and insightful conversation with my lovely chum in our favourite place to eat.
I sipped the Cortado: delicious. In fact the best I’d had so far five days into my break from urban living.
Declining postres, we paid up and made our way to the carpark.
“You know, considering I’ve had a fair amount of Cava, I just don’t feel tiddly at all – must have been the steak. Wow. I really needed some red meat.” I said, sliding the door shut with maybe more vigour than required.
Arriving back home, we were met by A who slowly walked with me towards my cabin in the woods. We talked of astrology, science and Human Insight. “I will look it up tomorrow” I said to A, “It sounds fascinating!”
My head hit the pillow and I was out like the proverbial light.
Two hours later, I woke with a start. What was that shuffling noise? Was it my bicycle moving? Was it a mouse? Were the Balearics home to Badgers? I didn’t think so.
Eyes wide open, I stared up into my eye mask. They remained that way until the cocks started crowing and the peacocks screeched their greeting to another day under the pines. I looked at my phone: 6am.
My head was buzzing with astrological conundrums; the rights and wrongs in life; the things to do and not do; energies flowing and not flowing; musings on my generation – and most particularly on our shortcomings.
Usually slow to rise, I leapt out of bed two hours later, completely wired.
Descafeinados on holiday, it turns out, continue to escape me.
I texted Fifi: “No wonder that ‘mouse’ looked worried. It’s true – our restaurant doesn’t do coffees; they do rocket fuel: I should get five chapters written this morning.”
I made breakfast in five seconds, and started to write.
In the Nineties, dare I say so, we all read it. In fact we read two of them: ‘Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus’, and ‘Mars and Venus on a Date.’
“Seriously? You have a bath and a kettle in your room?” I said to new 
“I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’m on holiday, not in Maida Vale” I said to The Brunette – my dinner companion for the evening. Contemplating the decor of our newest local restaurant immediately imbued a sense of relaxation and calm. Dark wood, mirrored strips on walls – a nod to Japanese lacquer – minimal tables and a soupçon of light jazz to be heard in the background provided the comfort of the traditional with the frisson of the new.
Manners maketh man and most certainly add to the enjoyment of dinner out on a Wednesday night. Politely we were asked what we’d like to drink. We discussed the options with Toru the owner: “Try the sparkling Sake” he told us, “It’s light, not too strong, I think you’ll be okay.” He was right; gently floral, the colour of effervescent water it was to be relished for itself rather than any unwanted effects.
We took our food recommendations from Ken: “This is nothing special” he repeatedly told us. Yellowtailed carpaccio with truffle oil, grilled asparagus with sesame dressing defined with threads of chilli as a starter told us otherwise.
Conversations with Strangers 