yesterday i went for dinner at the brasserie lipp in zurich after i participated in a formal gathering at the hotel widder. i was most delighted to keep myself some company in a nice place on a quiet monday evening. all went well, i ordered after much consultation with the kitchen as to what i could and could not eat due to my food intolerances, and after i finished eating i took out my paper notebook and proceeded to make some notes on the experiences and observations of the day while indulging in a few glasses of still mineral water while contemplating that all too difficult decision of ordering an expresso.
on monday evenings, even in the bustling busy downtown zurich, most restaurants are relatively calm and there are plenty of tables. at the brasserie lipp last night that was indeed the scenario. then, while i am busy writing away, this one man in an orange shirt comes in, and for some odd reason, he asks to be seated next to me and tells me with a broad smile that he will be quiet. i suppose that while he was eyeing the table i gave the orange clad man one of those famous looks of mine which have the inviting sex appeal of telling you to drop dead on the spot.
the good man had an A4 sized notebook with him, an english paperback from a well known publishing house, and he too started writing something or other. at one point he asks the waiter what the date is, and the waiter says it was the 8th. at this point i intervened with a smile and said that it was the 9th of may. my neighbor was delighted and he was bursting to start a conversation. we initially spoke in german, and he was once more, like anybody else who first meets me, curious as to what my language was while confessing that he could not place the accent. this is a recurring scene in my life. sometimes it annoys me, other times i play with it. i was in a playing mood yesterday. while he could eliminate that i would be swiss german, he was willing to make me a francophone swiss. the man had a good natural curiosity that bubbled through and seemed beyond categorization. still it is difficult to get much out of me if i am not in a conversation mood. we shared a bit about himself and his language habits and we ended up chatting in english for a few minutes before his dinner arrived. the arrival of his food was for me a perfect chance to wish him "bon apétit" and return to my note making. i ordered an expresso.
that was it. i took my expresso, paid the bill, and left my neighbor to enjoy his meal and note writing at the brasserie.
