Last night we went out for dinner. You see, we are currently having a short, family holiday in Orellana de la Sierra in Extremadura and part of being on holiday is going out for dinner, and attempting to conduct ourselves in a restaurant friendly manner. When I say we I am including my two young sons, Sam and Henry, aged 6 and 4 respectively. They give me lots of things to write about and certainly keep life interesting! But anyway, I digress. We had settled on a restaurant located on the peaceful, beautiful water front in Sierra de la Orellana that incorporated a playground and lots of open space for the boys to run around in. The table where we sat was not so far away that we couldn't monitor their behaviour but it was far enough away that we could deny any knowledge of them being anything to do with us should such a pretence become advantageous.
We weren't immediately discouraged by the fact that the car park was deserted and there were no other people there, we just put it down to the fact that it was perhaps a little early for the locals to be going out. So the children went off to play and we went to the bar to order a drink. The lady behind the bar seemed a little odd as she drifted over but I ordered a glass of wine and a beer regardless and we sat at the table waiting for her to bring them over. Just then another family turned up so the boys had some other children to play with and we didn't feel quite so uncomfortable at being the only people there. We sat for some time but our drinks never arrived so I returned to the lady at the bar. Smiling I said to her, "our drinks?". She looked confused. I explained further,
"I ordered a glass of wine and a beer."
No, she had no idea what I was talking about.
"A few minutes ago. I ordered a wine and a beer. You don't remember? Oh well never mind, can I have a glass of red wine and a beer please?"
"Tinto de verano?"
"No thank you. Just a glass of wine."
"Tinto de verano?"
"No, just a glass of wine."
"Tinto de verano?"
(At this point the father from the other family who had sat nearby to us stepped in to 'help'.)
"She is asking if you would like a tinto de verano."
"I know. I don't. I want a glass of wine."
"Ah, ok. She wants a glass of wine."
"Tinto de verano?"
"No. Just a glass of red wine please. In a glass. Just wine. Red wine please."
The message finally received she pottered extensively about behind the bar opening numerous cupboards and fridges before finally locating a box, not a bottle, of wine. How lovely. But at least it was wine, it was red and it wasn't tinto de verano. I wasn't about to complicate the matter further and so we had our drinks and watched the children play contemplating whether we should stay there or go on somewhere else to eat. Just then the lady bought over a glass of water and put it down on the table.
"Oh. Is this for us?"
"Yes of course."
"We didn't order it."
"No? Are you sure? Then who did?"
"Erm, perhaps those people over there?"
"Ah, yes. Sorry."
Off she went.
I walked up to the bar to order some food. There was a man who had just turned up and so, hoping that he might be a bit more together I called over to him. I gave him our order which he wrote out very slowly in full, no abbreviations, referring to the menu in order to include every word as it was written, which although was quite time consuming it did offer some confidence that the food order might not be quite such a challenge for them to deliver as the drinks had been. The menu didn't actually have too much to offer for those who weren't partial to consuming a whole plate of cheese or a whole plate of chorizo or a whole plate of anchovies or a whole plate of fried red peppers, and so we had decided, rather unadventurously, on three burgers,one lomo de cerdo with potatoes and two portions of chips. He disappeared behind a curtain out the back and we waited.
"Mummy! Is our dinner nearly ready?"
"Not yet. Not long though. I'll call you when it comes."
This continued for about twenty minutes at which point the man brought out two burgers.
"Here you are. We only have two burgers."
"Oh. Ok. There were only two? So I can't have one?"
"You can, it will be here in about half an hour."
"Oh. Well that's a bit too long to wait. Maybe I should order something else."
I scan the menu quickly trying to find something else that appeals. A whole plate of small fishes? A whole plate of squid? I was wondering why we hadn't done this bit about twenty minutes earlier when the man must have realised he only had two burgers. There's nothing I really want but needing to choose something I go for a tortilla de patatas. So the man disappears off behind his curtain once again.
"Boys! Dinner is here!"
They come running up excitedly and tuck into their burgers. Fifteen minutes later they finish and go off to play, and still there is nothing else. Eventually the lady emerges bringing the lomo de cerdo and potato (which it turns out is actually chips) and my whole plate of tortilla, obviously not home made but clearly shop bought, previously frozen, now almost defrosted and partially heated up so that some bits are hot, some bits are icy, most bits are lukewarm and all of it is stodgy, tasteless and bland. Smothered in ketchup and mustard I force as much of it down as I can, adding to my festival of potato by having a few nearly warm chips too and just to add a slight bit of flavour to my experience I share a bit of the verging on warm lomo too. With visions of the lady reappearing with two more plates full of chips which we although we had ordered we definitely couldn't stomach, we ask her for the bill. She looks surprised.
"No, you can't have the bill."
"We can't?"
"No not yet. He has gone and I can't do the bill."
"Will he be long?"
"I don't know. Maybe half an hour."
"But we need to go."
"I don't know how to do the bill. I don't know the prices."
"Oh ok. Well I'll get a menu and we can show you what we had and see how much it is."
So I get a menu and reel off the prices. She writes down the following
7.00
6.50
3.00
3.00 and starts to add them up in some bizarre scrawled written addition.
So I help.
"It's 19.50. That all adds up to 19.50."
"Yes? It is?"
"Yes. The food all adds up to 19.50."
So she writes it down.
"Now you need to add on the drinks."
"You had drinks?"
"Yes. We had a glass of wine (she scrawls 2.00), two beers (she scrawls 1.80 twice) and two pineapple juices (she scrawls 1.50 twice)."
So now her list looks like this
19.50
2.00
1.80
1.80
1.50
1.50
She spends several minutes filling the paper with other written sums while we watch and wait, before she finally totals up.
"That's 12.30" she finally declares.
Hardly quite believing that she has managed to come to such a total despite the fact we had told her the food alone cost 19.50, we momentarily consider correcting her, but then we think about the very long wait, the very rubbish food, the potential for illness as a result of consuming it, the nasty wine from a box, the distinctly odd service and we think, sod it, we're paying 12.30.
So we pay, quickly gather up the children before 'he' returns and rumbles the mistake, strap them into the car and drive off in a cloud of dust. I feel a small, momentary twinge of guilt but that is soon forgotten as I feel slightly queasy from the solid mass of tortilla settled in my stomach, and as I hope that we are not struck down by food poisoning my conscience becomes decidedly less troubled.
So no, our first holiday dinner out didn't turn out quite as expected. We hadn't been able to sit out until late, as we had hoped, watching the sun setting over the lake, listening to the happy laughter of the children carry on the cooling breeze while we relaxed and enjoyed a few drinks, but for once we weren't the focus of attention. For once we weren't the crazy ones. Not by a long chalk and for once that was quite a novelty!