A day out to Murcia with a stop at the market brought an array of interesting encounters. The morning started out with a pleasant stroll through Orihuela market (we've upgraded from our previous Saturday market fyi) to buy our fruit for the week. Heading for the festive oranges (satsumas / mandarins / tangerines / clementines .... they're all the same!) and a very friendly guy warbles on in Spanish. I'm trying to high-speed interpret as Mother is dishing out insignificant questions about his oranges. Naturally he doesn't understand anything but this doesn't deter her.
Unfortunately, this young man (think 'farmers son' but more like a lost sparrow in a hay field rather than a tweed-clad Downton Abbey gentleman) takes a shine to me and asks me on a date. I explain that Mother is, in fact, my mother... and he gasps. It was a swift goodbye but his oranges were the best I've ever had and may need another batch, so I expect there'll be another awkward encounter in the near future. Will keep you updated.
As we depart from 'mandarin-man', we are engrossed in the squabble between another farmers son and a batty old woman about a cauliflower. She seems extremely particular about her vegetables. Suddenly Mother whirls me to her other side; "Honey! Stay back! *eye-points to a dishevelled elderly man heading our way* he looks awfully smelly!" Thank God for Mother, always there to keep me safe from a potent OAP.
Murcia. On a beautifully crisp Christmas Eve with hundreds of families trotting around, children in tow, we head to our friends' restaurant again. A warm welcome as usual and we have our lunch. An hour or so later as we're paying the bill, Mother's favourite waiter rushes over to our table. The waiter I may have mentioned before? The one Mother has a giant crush on? Yes, him. He heads over, looking extraordinarily bashful, clasping a scrap of paper. To my amazement he briefly asks me to tell Mother he'd like to go for a coffee with her! (Fluent Spanish, very little English. Could be interesting). I hand Mother the scrap of paper with Joaquin's number on (if I hadn't disclosed his name before then I have now!) and she gracefully accepts. A few glances exchanged, kisses, hugs etc and we're outside in the square. This is very exciting! Since our first visit to Murcia in April 2012, Mother has had a crush on Joaquin! Finally, he's given her his number! I approach Mother on the subject.
"Hmm. Yes. I don't really want his number though."
"Pardon???"
"Hmm. I mean, I just liked him to gawp at. I don't want to marry the man!
"I hardly think a telephone number translates to a marriage proposal... even in Spain!"
"Still. I can't go out with him, he's far too young for me."
"What?! You've been wanting to go out with him since forever what are you talking about?! Just go for a coffee!"
"I don't think so. OH but maybe he has a rich father! Maybe he owns a yacht! Yes. Perhaps Joaquin Senior will be better suited to me."
Mother has returned to dreamworld.
xoxo
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