It’s not that I don’t like eating breakfast out. I’m all up for some churros now and then, a warm cup of coffee on a chilly January morning, and even a shot of anis after breakfast on a Sunday, but how Sevillanos, and some guiris, have breakfast out every morning is beyond me.
When I was in my late teens growing up in London, I’d normally meet mates for a fry up to sooth a nasty hangover at the weekend. I used to love the occasion; chatting about the shenanigans of the previous night and normally trying to remember what had happened. It was fun, but I couldn’t do it every morning.
A few things bug me about having breakfast out in Seville. Firstly, the noise; it’s never quiet in a café. I’ve grown to hate the sound of smashing china plates, and knives and forks splattering in the tray. Waiters shouting orders does my head in too. Sometimes the volume of locals speaking is so loud that you can’t hear the person in front talking. If I’m not properly awake when I go in the café, I sure am when I leave.
Then there’s the space. If I have the bad luck of arriving late and being stuck up against the bar then someone is always nudging me in the back or trying to nick my spot. Is it weird to dislike strangers touching me while I eat in the morning?
And what about the cost? If a coffee and toast are about €2, that’s €14 a week, almost €60 a month, and over €700 a year on breakfast. I think I’ll stick to having my breakie at home with my wife and son and save the cash for a mini holiday.
While I’m having a moan, those stupid paper napkins are useless too, especially to wipe olive oil from your chin. They just spread the grease all around your mouth. And why it is that every table in Seville seems to have one shorter leg. The tables are always wobbly. I guess that way there is some need for the useless napkins.
If you’re lucky and it’s a lovely warm spring or summer morning, and you manage to find a table, which isn’t wobbly, outside in the sun and you can sit and have a chat with your loved ones in peace, then having breakfast out is a splendido way to spend the morning.
Maybe I’m getting old and set in my ways. Or maybe I’m just not a sociable morning person, either way, breakfast out should be left for the weekends. What do you think? Are you an expat over here who loves treating yourself to breakfast en la calle or do you prefer it in the privacy of your own home?