Dinner
After
visiting an optician it was almost evening. I didn't want to cook,
so I decided to go to a nearby restaurant.
Earlier
during the day I had visited the same restaurant. The waiter looked
surprised to see me there again. He didn't say anything, though, but
pointed towards the free tables. I could sit wherever I liked but
he remarked, "Later on this evening, there is going to be a party.
It will be quite crowded."
I
understood this to mean that I should preferably sit at a single or
double table. "This small table in the corner is just fine,"
I replied.
I
sat down and glanced around. The place was less tidy than at lunch.
One table had been removed but the dust had remained. There was a
lot empty space, which looked odd to me, knowing that the restaurant
would be packed later on.
I
waited for a while until I realized that I hadn't received the menu.
Perhaps it was forgotten, or perhaps it was soon to be delivered.
In any case, the table next to me had the menu, so I reached out for
it.
"I'll
lend this for a moment," I said to the woman, who was sitting
there. This didn't seem to bother her.
Soon
the waiter came to take the order.
"I'll
have chicken and vegetables," I said.
"Rice or potatoes?"
"Rice."
"Thank you."
I
ordered the same dish as earlier in the day.
"Do
you remember me?" the woman asked. She was about 30 or 40 years
old. I wondered what was going on.
"No,
I don't," I replied, somewhat disoriented.
"I have the sweater for Saija."
"Saija, whom?"
"Surely you do know Saija." She looked surprised.
"Saija Saija ... Who?"
"Your niece."
"Saija! Oh, yeah, of course," I replied.
"So, will you take this sweater with you?"
The
woman handed me a small woolly shirt. I put it in the bag, but still
wondered how she had known that I was in the restaurant. It was as
if it had all been pre-arranged. In any case, I was sure to give the
sweater to my niece the next time I'd see her.
As
the evening progressed, the restaurant was filled with customers.
Music was playing and the people were in a good mood. This turned
out to be the 10th anniversary of the restaurant. I talked with people
who were standing next to me. One claimed to be a Hindu, so I bowed
deeply and said ohm very slowly. This seemed to amuse the crowd around
me.
I
was still seated at the table, when Sari arrived. It was half-past
ten.
"Have
you eaten?" she asked.
"Not really," I replied.
I
went to the desk to inquire what happened to the dish I ordered.
"When
did you order?" the waiter asked.
"Six hours ago," I said.
"Then I'll make sure you won't have to wait much longer."
"I surely hope so."
"What did you order?"
"Chicken."
"It's on its way. Will you also have chicken? "
"Why not," Sari said.
It
seemed that they hadn't even started to cook, as the chef asked how
the oven is turned on. Then, together with the waiter they were doing
their best to figure out how to open the oven.
