En Déplacement

The dining room before it filled up.

I suppose many people who travel for work see places from the point of view of hotels and restaurants. It certainly is that way this week for me except that my plane does not go until the afternoon tomorrow so that I can play the tourist for the morning at least.

Having traveled down com Martos to Malaga (2 1/2 hrs) I elected to eat at the hotel restaurant. It has the benefit of being able to chose from the menu in my bedroom but when I went downstairs I found I was too early. Fortunately I had bought a days internet so I attended a lecture on the influence of Peter the Great ("they all called themselves Great" I was informed).

After the appointed time I descended to find several families already installed at tables. I spotted a lady holding a notepad and asked for a table for one. She put me on the only small table which was by the window and under the air conditioning - most invigorating.

I have started to notice that Spanish ladies often have generous body parts for sitting on. The waitress was no exception, the trousers of her black uniform only emphasising her ability. She had the air of someone who coped rather than excelled.

Since I had already chosen, I checked the menu I was given to be sure it was the same, and then placed it on the table to indicate I was ready to order. After a considerable while the notebook appeared at my side. I ordered the fritters to start, described as "delicious" in the menu translation which also said there would be 6 of them. I remember counting food items as a child - to be fair!- so I supposed this information was for the families present. To follow I ordered the swordfish.

And a glass of red to drink, I requested. Glass or bottle? She asked so I plumped for the glass but I asked if they had a carafe? After a bit of explaining, her frown brightened and she smiled clearly showing she had understood. No, she said happily, and we agreed again for a glass.

A bottle of something was soon produced with a glass swiped from another table 'en route'. It was generous enough and was quickly followed by the fritters. I was just tucking into my 4th fritter when a plate of swordfish arrived on my right. The smell of fish contrasted strongly with the ham and cheese of my fritters making the last 2 less delicious. I recalled that the hotel rejoices in the name of "Holiday Inn Express".

The swordfish was all right. I decided the oil must be part of Spanish cuisine and not just the restaurant at Martos. Maybe it is a contributor to the sitting ability I have begun to notice but something told me not to try and find out from the waitress.

By now the restaurant had filled up considerably. With only 1 lady on duty, there was now a long wait for my desert (occasion for much of this report) and contradicting my earlier assumption of the reason for the name "Express". The waitress is taking payments now and being paged by another man who she ignores, and now she is serving some newcomers. Clearly a busy life.

So I will leave you to guess what desert I chose and if I ever got one, and I will publish this now. I have the feeling my tapping may be delaying things. Both my meal plates are still on the table.

Postscript:

The deserts offered were either cheesecake or chocolate pancake. I plumped for the former. I gave up waiting for coffee when I recalled there was a kettle in my room. I stopped tapping but the service was unchanged. The waitress added the bill to my room number and smiled at me knowing I was obviously satisfied.

Of course I was.