The Christmas ´works do´
We decided to bring both guide books with us – there was space in the rucksack, and part of the fun of travelling is checking out just how accurate the entries really are. So, our second night in Sucre was planned around just this – each reading a guidebook, comparing notes and then setting off for dinner. At least we had a plan to begin with!
It was Emma´s turn to make the choice, and having made it we headed off just as the city began to wake up for the evening. Down a main street we went, with buses, trucks, cars and bikes belching their way alongside us with only millimetres to spare. The rarified air coupled with the stillness of the evening choked us, but we persevered to where we expected the hostelry to be. Only it wasn´t there, and we grimaced as we faced a long haul back up to the main plaza where at least some of the engine fumes were dissapated by the tall palms and open spaces.
Catching our breath and glancing down another side street we spied a sign for the Restaurant Maxim, and while neither of us had read about it before, we thought let´s give it a go.
Wrong move! We should have known as we entered the doorway and peered up the stairs in front of us to see a private security guard glaring down at us in a non too pleasant way. But at the sight of a sweet looking waitress we continued, muttering a greeting to the jobsworth and entering what should only really have been found somewhere in Knightsbridge, not Sucre in Bolivia. The room we entered was devoid of anyone, but the sheer opulence of the decor was astounding.
Each table was set according to Ritz etiquette, and the chairs were covered in their own sheets with elaborately braided gold ties adorning the backs of them. To have sneezed would have been punishable, and here we we were in scruffy travelling clothes, short of breath, wide eyed and heading for the door as quickly as we could. No wonder this place wasn´t in the guidebooks!
Back in the main plaza again, and now we´re getting really hungry, not to mention filthy from the smothering fumes all around. Right, time for action. We spy a place at the top end of the plaza, and without a word between us (impossible!), we head for it.
The entrance is downstairs and the menu looks fine. We head up the stairs and as we get to the level we see people sat at tables all around a roped off area. Okay, this looks popular we think. No seats on that level, but there´s a level above that looks down on the main seating area. Off we go up yet more stairs, still not realising we´re gate crashing a works do. As soon as we sit down though…….
From our vantage point above the main floor we begin to realise that all is not right. Nobody´s eating for a start, just waiting at set tables in a patient sort of way. And what´s on that temporary stage that’s been erected? A screen, and a microphone next too it. Is this a game of bingo??
A well dressed gentleman takes to the stage and begins to address the gathering. He uses the Spanish word for work frequently (yes, we did manage to learn some Spanish before we got here!), and the audience sit quietly, nodding occasionally. Then he begins to say a prayer, at which point Em gets the giggles. I try and act serious (doesn’t work), we hope the floor will open up and swallow us (it doesn’t), and then the prayer is over and we’re on to a Powerpoint display. Time to go.
Neither of us dared look anywhere other than the next step down as we made our way out of that place in as decorous a way as we could possibly manage. We fell outside laughing, headed straight next door and got the pizza we’d been waiting for all night.
Tags: Bolivia at last!
mihai