Date Night in Bolivia

Well one thing remains constant, weekends go bye too fast no matter where you are. Friday night the kids went for a sleep over to the Guthrie home and the remaining Whittles decided to go out on a date. We decided to try a restaurant recommended by a few people, named Kabbabs. Not knowing what to expect we directed the cab to the area and found it easily. The restaurant was actually the left wing of what appeared to be an old Spanish style villa. There was a small central courtyard, complete with fountain and it was ringed by buildings. The restaurant was in the front corner adjacent to the street and we found the door which was actually a set of iron gates. (doors and windows are optional in a country that doesn't see snow) Immediately I thought we had entered a scene from a James Bond movie or something from one of those world cooking shows. The restaurant was a small L-shaped room with high ceilings that exposed wooden beems and what appeared to be a thatched roof. The walls were a pealing pale pink plaster and covered with Persian themed pictures and artwork. In the background a Cd player gently turned out what we assumed to be middle eastern music. The tables were plain with bench seat that had backs cared in, you guessed it, Persian style with curved lines and large spires at the corners. The seats were covered with what appeared to be small Persian rugs. The air smelt of smoked meat and stale cigarettes and at any moment I expected to see James Bond or Humphrey Bogart come out from around the corner. In the back of the restaurant was a large fume hood covering a roasting area. Throughout the night I saw a tall thin Arabic looking man, who I assumed to be the owner, loading screws with meat. Beside the fume hood was a small gas fired circular oven used to make flat bread. The entire time we were there one of the cooks, armed with a protective arm band, would load up the special application tool with dough then stick his arm into the oven hole and stick the dough to the side wall of the oven to be cooked. I had seen pictures of this technique but never witnessed it live. It is amazing to think that they have been turning out bread like this since before the time of Christ. We sat down and were served by a decidedly Bolivian looking lady who looked strangely out of place in "little persia". We place our order and waited for our dinner to arrive. I felt I needed to use the facilities before dinner and being in a new place I thought it would be appropriate for me, the man, to be the first to explore this uncharted territory so we asked the waitress when the bathrooms were. She answered in Spanish, of course, and motioned outside and I thought I heard her use the words, "at the back". I headed out the gates and turned left. The courtyard was dark and I walked slowly heading to what I assumed was "the back" of the property. I found a building and a locked door but undetered I went left and found an opening which opened into yet another smaller courtyard area. At this point there was some light and I saw what I thought was sink. "This is a good sign"I though. I arrived at a small building at the very back of the property which appeared something like a change house near a pool. I entered door number one, which is using the term loosely as there was no door and viewed a long trough that ran along the entire back side of the room. I recognized this as being a Bolivian urinal. I paused to note that there appeared to be no water running to this "appliance" so I decided I will try door number 2. Door number two yielded another doorless room containing a toilet only. Again I paused to review my options. Fortunately the extensive training by father during all our many camping trips to Northern Saskatchewan kicked in and without thought, I was able to quickly act in this life and death situation. I quickly, but carefully made use of the clearly better choices offered by door number two. It was then I turned around to use the sink which had neither a door or walls on two sides or a roof for that matter. It was, in fact, a red pedestal sink glittering in the star filled night. I took pause there to marvel at the way the moon glistened off the water in the sink as I washed my hands. Truly an experience I have not had anywhere else. I retraced my steps back to the restaurant and was greeted by a smile from out waitress. I am not sure whether is was a polite smile of response that I had obviously found the bathroom or whether it held a more sinister motive as she smiled and laughed inside at what she knew the "gringo" had just experienced outside. We will never know. As I sat down, I was immediately greeted with the obvious question, "so where is the bathroom?" Without pausing, I simply said, "you don't want to go back there". Our food came and was delicious which complete defies the old axiom that you can judge a restaurant by the quality of it's bathroom. We paid the impossibly low bill (Complete dinner for two including deserts and a coffee and tip for $18) and started walking home. I retold the story of the bathroom and we shared a laugh. We both agreed that date night in Bolivia is far more of an adventure than anything in Edmonton.