The view out the window of the restaurant.
Rick and I walked to the restaurant down the hill from our writing retreat for Sunday dinner. The young waitress came up and told us she could speak English. She also speaks French. We said either and I said I knew about 25 words of Spanish.
My learning the language has gone much slower than I had hoped but has more to do with my procrastination and missing classes. So much of it seems like a simplified French as well. I will continue a bit and I do know the important words like postre for dessert. "Quiero chocolate para el postre," and yes I know the quote marks at the beginning of the sentence should be on the bottom.
Each time the waitress brought something she gave me the Spanish word for it.
The warm cheese salad reminded me a bit of the Mideastern Bric with its filo dough covering, the cuttlefish was excellent and the flan, unlike the Catalan version has no anise. Rick had melon and the local thin-sliced ham and chicken. No surprise he went for the chocolate.
As we were leaving we caught two cats raiding the garbage behind the restaurant. Maybe the clap of thunder was to warn the cats, or maybe it was to satisfy our wish for rain.