Traipsed around the old part of Sion last night looking for somewhere other than McDonalds to eat. I sat down at an unpretentious looking pavement cafe and was attended by a chap from an adjacent table.
"Un Spaghetti Bolognaise?"
"Oui, and something to drink Monsieur?"
"Une biere s'il-vous-plait."
The man disappeared inside and shortly after a rather stumpy woman came out with a beer and a bill for three francs.
Service in Switzerland has been a little on the relaxed side but anyway my train wasn't until tomorrow morning... I watched the passers-by, as one does, and the nearby Cathedral clock struck the hour, the quarter hour, then the half hour? I thought this Spaghetti should be worth the wait though, as the place seemed unfrequented by the usual tourists.
The chap that served me brought out bottles of red wine, fresh bread and a platter of Parma ham, but all to the table he was sitting at. I gazed at the faces around the table and was strongly reminded of various portrayals of Mafiosa type families.
A chill breeze marked the end of the day and the clock chimed another quarter of an hour. I considered doing a bit of window shopping over the way.
Instead the same chap caught my eye and grunted "Une autre biere Monsieur?"
"Non merci"
I took the opportunity to enquire about my order. "Ou est mon Spaghetti?"
"Je ne comprend pas."
"Bolognaise! SPAGHETTI!"
The man shrugged and made some joke with the rest of the table. I reluctantly handed over a five franc piece for the beer "Avez-vous du change!?"
Somehow I inexplicably ended up with about seventeen francs instead of two.
My only explanation is, they must have thought I was Polish and wanted to show their disdain for anyone from the former Eastern block...
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