Guanacaste, Costa Rica –
As I sat down at the table, the waiter came over to get my drink order.
“Dos cafes, por favor.”
He looked at me like I had grown a third head. Or at least a second.
I decided to switch to English.
“Two coffees, please.”
This he understood.
Maybe it was because my Spanish was bad, so bad he didn’t have a clue what I was saying.
Maybe it was because Dore had made a beeline for the buffet, before I had secured us a table, and thus was nowhere to be seen.
He thought I was alone.
I’ll never know the reason he gave me that look, all I can do is guess, because once he understood what I was asking for, he was the epitome of excellent service.
