There are few things more annoying to me whilst on the road than a bad dinner, especially one where you feel you’ve overpaid for. It always seems like a good idea at the time, trundling along the cold street, with the evening wind picking up, churning up dust and debris from the ground and whipping it past your face. Pulling your jacket higher, in a vain attempt to keep out the cold, you see it.
Just round the corner, with an audible buzzing of the neon sign, like a miniature hive of bees.
A warm orange glow emanating from within, a promise of warmth and sustenance.
The clues were there from the beginning, the many empty tables and the bored looking waiters, the menu board outside, proclaiming the offerings in a multitude of languages, surely a tempting sight for many a gringo.
But the warmth! Oh! The warmth!
Like the proverbial moth to a flame, we drifted nearer, taking a peek inside. A voice sounds out from the side, we had not even noticed him, with an alpaca poncho, he was standing on the street, hustling for customers.
“Trout! Straight from the lake to your plate!”, he offered, in Spanish.
The wind picked up just that bit more, an icy whip lashing at us.
He opened the door a little, and a brief cloud of warmth drifted out.
We took another look down the street, the glow of a few other restaurants further down the street looked ever further away, with a sea of black and cold separating us, we turned to him, and nodded.
And that was pretty much it.
I left my job as an advertising Creative Director in August 2012 to travel Africa and South America for a year with my wife, documenting these beautiful places with my Fuji X-Pro1. View the rest of my RTW adventures on Handcarry Only and follow me on my journey by subscribing/following/bookmarking.