THE CAFE BAR

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"I really do fancy a cup of coffee. My feet are killing me!” I complained to my partner, as we trudged around the narrow streets of a very pretty village that we had recently discovered.

“There’s a cafe bar over here”, he replied. Pointing to the large open doorway, I could see several very comfortable looking chairs and two large sofas and a few small tables. “It looks clean enough, lets give it a try.”

We wandered inside. It looked very homely with some lovely photos and pictures of the village, and people working in it. There was one beautiful, large photo of fishermen pulling in their catch at the harbour we had just visited.

We sat on one of the comfortable sofas and eventually an old lady came over to us. She looked a little ancient to be still working, but she beamed a broad toothless smile, and we exchanged pleasantries. I ordered two coffees and asked if she had any croissants, as we had not had any breakfast.

The old lady shook her head, but indicated that she could serve us with warm bread rolls, butter and marmalade instead. I nodded gratefully, and the old lady smiled, but warned me that it may take a few minutes to prepare. We were in no hurry and were pleased to have a rest. Suddenly, the elderly waitress appeared again, smiled her toothless grin, and left what appeared to be two large brandies.

We sat and relaxed. The cafe bar was very pleasant and I admired the detail of the artefacts, ornaments, photos and pictures from a bygone age. Photos of camels pulling ploughs, angelic looking, freshly scrubbed children grouped together outside the local church after their first communions, as well as many photos of fishermen long gone that adorned the walls. This little cafe bar was indeed a treasure, and we decided that we would be visiting it again very soon.

I was puzzled to see the waitress put on a shawl, pick up a basket and then disappear out of the door. She returned shortly afterwards with what, I assumed, were fresh rolls, which appeared a few minutes later, deliciously warm and placed tastefully in a basket, together with a small pot of butter, a freshly opened jar of jam, and a small daisy-like yellow flower to add the finishing touch. We thanked the waitress and told her how much we appreciated fresh rolls for breakfast. She beamed her toothless smile with pleasure, and wandered off into the kitchen.

The coffee was some of the best that we had ever tasted, and the rolls were delicious, as was the apricot jam. As I was driving, my partner polished off my brandy as well, and seemed much happier for it. We took our time, and eventually the elderly waitress positioned herself on one of the armchairs at the side of the bar, watching us carefully, smiling her toothless smile as she continued with what looked like crocheting a large shawl.

Eventually, it was time to leave. I beckoned to the waitress for the bill. She shook her head “Nada”, she replied, which means “nothing”. I tried again to ask for the bill, but the old lady became agitated and shook her head vigorously, followed by a babble of Spanish that I could not understand.

I managed to leave a note under the saucer before we left and we thanked the elderly lady profusely for looking after us so well and assured her that we would visit her again soon. She grinned her toothless smile, nodded and waved as we left the cafe bar.

Later, during the day we met up with a friend for lunch and I told him about the very friendly cafe bar, the elderly lady and the story about how she went to the bakery to get us fresh, warm rolls.

Our friend listened, looked puzzled and then suddenly roared with laughter. “Tell me again where this bar is?” he demanded. “Did you notice a car parked inside?”

We told him that we had noticed an ancient car parked inside and at the far end of the large room. We had thought it a little strange, but assumed that it was all part of the 1950s decor. “The whole place had a ‘Cuban’ feel about it,” I declared.

When our friend had finally finished laughing, he told us that our “Lovely little cafe bar” where we had so enjoyed our coffee, rolls and brandy that morning was, in fact, the private home of Marie-Carmen. It was not a cafe bar after all, but Marie-Carmen’s integral garage, which she used as her sitting room!

If you enjoyed this article, take a look at Barrie’s websites: www.barriemahoney.com and www.thecanaryislander.com or read his latest book, ‘Message in a Bottle’ (ISBN: 978 1480 031005). Available as paperback, Kindle and iBook

© Barrie Mahoney

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