Day Four: El Maricón Alemán (Utanfor Sesongen)

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Sunday, 11th November 2012. Andalucia.

I and O and W leave for Stavanger on Saturday, and we have dinner reservations at Skina. the food is as great as always. Skina specializes in seasonal, local produce paired with Spanish single grape varieties from small organic wineries. the chef’s Japanese background can be noticed in small, subtle touches like his use of raw fish and how he couples seafood with horseradish. the restaurant is small and seats only 18. it’s packed. the head waiter shakes my hand as we leave, and wishes us a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and adds that he hopes to see us again soon. – next November, I tell him. – see you next November, as usual.

we go for Sunday breakfast at a local bar. four German expats sit outside in the cold morning wind. they’re middle aged and drink beer and smoke cigarettes for breakfast. it’s too cold for us. we go inside and order up the whole package; toast, fried eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns and baked beans. two old Spaniards sip black coffee at the bar and chat with the bartender. they speak the local Andalucian dialect, and my Spanish is way too poor to understand much of what they’re saying, but I hear the phrase “el maricón Alemán” repeated several times; “the German faggot”.

then it’s books and beer and Sunday afternoon cigarillos on the porch. books and beer and Sunday afternoon cigarillos.