11.52am. I am in the most Spanish cafe I could find. The rotund owner is a man in his late forties. He has a vivid blue sweater on, and he has really let himself go. There is hair sprouting quite dramatically from his nose and he has a gap between his teeth. He speaks German and English, but he got only Spanish out of me.
He is drinking red wine from a wide, round shallow glass better suited to champagne, and keeps opening up a large chest freezer. I have no idea what might be inside. An undiscovered Shakespeare play, perhaps. His doubtless long-suffering wife is working in the kitchen, which is no larger than our bathroom, but completely unlit. Every time she drops a pan or makes a noise, she says something under her breath that I don't catch. She is older than him, serious-looking, with a pale full length 'grandmother' style dress with a floral pattern.
On the table to my left are a German couple who ordered hot drinks, three tables away are a small group of people, talking animatedly but quietly, and smoking. I initially thought they were Spanish, but they turned out to be Germans too. Despite the steady run of cars, it is surprisingly peaceful.
12.16pm. Just eaten a very nice brunch of bacon, sausage of some kind, egg, beans, toast and smooth coffee. The owner chatted to me in Spanish for a while, telling me that it's Semana Santa next week, and he too is hoping for clear skies, although for different reasons to me. He asked me whether I am working on the island, I explained that I am a student working at the observatory in Costitx. He said he likes Costitx, as there are some really good tapas bars.
I ate up, paid my bill and left, but the owner called me back, and gave me an events guide and map of Calviá province. I walked back in the light rain, and now I'm about to start some swotting up.
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