I was eating my lunch in front of the computer at work the other day. It was a kind of short, fat baguette with Spanish ham. It was satisfying, but I wanted something sweet to round off the lunchtime mini-meal.
Without much thought, I decided I wanted a Twix. I'm a Twix kind of guy. I headed out into the streets surrounding my language academy to find a shop that stocked sweets and chocolate. My regular sites for such a purchase gave me a shake of the head when I asked for chocolate. My disappointment grew exponentially with each rejection.
I got in the car and drove to Dos Hermanas, a small town outside of Seville. I had a class to teach in a discount Nike store at 2pm, and figured maybe if I got there early I could pick up a Twix from one of the surrounding shops. There's a sweet stand inside the mall which I've used a few times to buy pre-class treats. I usually get a Twix and follow it up with a spearmint Smint for oral hygiene.
But on my way there I was distracted by something new. A middle-aged woman was selling freshly made mini-doughnuts right outside the mall. She had her own little stand and a tray of hot oil. It was enough to make my heart leap. Hot, fresh doughnuts.
Nevertheless, I strode past. I had a plan, and that plan was two fingers of chocolate, caramel and biscuit in a shiny gold wrapper. I wasn't about to get distracted by some old lady selling doughnuts.
But maybe ten steps past her, I slowed my pace. My mind raced. A Twix is one euro, I thought. Packaged, mass produced, familiar. But a hot bag of doughnuts is something else entirely. I could be missing out on a real treat here, I thought. I turned around and went back to the old lady.
She was clearly pleased to see me. Maybe she didn't get many customers. That was the impression I got. Without customers, she was just standing in front of a tray of oil and looking at a car park.
"How much?" I asked.
"Two euros fifty," she said.
I was immediately sad. Two fifty was a high price for a couple of doughnuts. I indicated with my face that I didn't want them at that price. The woman looked sad now too. I bet the moment I left she became angry and muttered "cheapskate" under her breath. I only say this because it's probably what I would have done.
Inside the mall, I found out that the sweet stand there was no longer selling chocolate. I wondered if the doughnut lady had put a curse on me. But the lack of chocolate was probably more likely due to the change of season. It gets pretty hot here in June.
I finally found a petrol station later that night that sold chocolate and bought a Twix. I ate it in the car. It was pretty good.
Unfortunately, now I have to walk past the doughnut lady every Tuesday and Thursday when I go to give my class at Nike. I try to avoid eye contact. The whole situation is kind of embarassing. Still, end of term in a couple of weeks.
