Provecho

I don’t mind traveling alone, but I do loathe dining alone. This morning, however, I decided to skip having eggs at home and have eggs out. I headed to the Oaxaca version of Denny’s or IHop, a place called VIPs.

I like the coffee at VIPs; it is a mild breakfast blend. I ordered the Huevos Nortenos, a plate with machacha (meat), eggs, and salsa accompanied by beans and tortillas. A glass of tomato juice with lime rounded out this hearty meal. However, when the waitress forst asked for my order, the noise of the Sunday morning diners and my accent (I’m assuming) made her hear: “Dos Nortenos” rather than “Huevos.” She practically screamed: “?Dos?” I said, laughing, “No, Huevos.” She also began to laugh.

VIPs has a play area for children, sort of like a McDonalds Playland, and it has some rules and disclaimers. Though the age limit is ten, there were older children in there playing and no one seemed to mind. One f my favorite disclaimers is:
“No se hace responsable por lesiones sufridas en estos juegos infantiles.” It literally translates to: VIPs is not liable for injuries sustained in these childish games.

As I was people watching, I noticed another woman dining alone. She, too, was enjoying a hearty breakfast. In fact, in addition to the meal, she had polished off the two donuts that the server brings to tempt customers as they are waiting for the real meal. On her way out the door, she swept by my table, looked me in the eye and said, “Provecho,” Mexico’s version of “Bon Apetit.” I am sure she would not have been compelled to notice me except that I was alone. I was grateful for her attention and told her so, my mouth full of eggs and salsa.