The waitresses at Paradise Exiles: Donatella, the Sustainable Marine Biologist

When I met Donatella, I wasn't alone, but with my daughter, so I really did not pay too much attention to her. Why? Firstly I see my daughters quite infrequently as they live elsewhere. Secondly my daughter does not like me to talk up young waitresses. And thirdly I couldn't classify Donatella. And when you can't classify a woman it is hard to find the right pickup line.

Donatella was small, maybe 1.60 m and had brown hair. She was a little bit on the curvacious side, but still attractive and looked quite sweet, although a bit earnest. And she wore glasses. I had never seen a waitress at the Exiles wear glasses before. The glasses actually were extremely beautiful, round with many colours, pink, yellow and black and fit her face exceptionally well.

I was sitting with my daughter at the Exiles for many days and talking about lots of personal things in German. We were served by Donatella at least fifty times. Her face always stayed totally detached, which was natural for a waitress who did not understand a word of what we were talking.

After being served by her for many days I found it uncomfortable not to have any contact with her, as if she was just a vending machine. There are no vending machines wearing glasses. So I asked her: “Where are you from?” She responded: “from Vienna.” I was surprised, because I knew that one of the bartenders used to have a Viennese girl friend. But she never seemed to be close to this bartender. And it was quite unlikely that she would be working at this place in September, as his girl friend was studying in Vienna, and the term had already started then. “What”, said I, switching to German, “ so you speak our language?” “Sure”. So Donatella had overheard all our private conversations and not even once moved her face, although German is quite rarely spoken in Malta, the dominant foreign languages being Spanish, Italian, Russian and Slovak. “But you don't look Austrian.” “Because just my mother is Austrian, my father is Maltese.” “Which district are you living in Vienna?” “The eighth”. The district tells you a lot about the lifestyle of the people. The eighth district has a lot of nightlife so it is for people who want to have fun. ”Nice area”. “And what are you doing here?” “Visiting my father.” “And what are you doing in Vienna?” “I am writing a thesis on sustainable marine biology.” I pride myself of being able to start at least a short conversation on a wide field of topics, but sustainable marine biology was not one of them. So I responded: “Very appropriate topic for a Maltese.” She nodded: “Yes, and there is so much still to be researched.” and left us. My daughter giggled, satisfied by the total collapse of my approach: “Dad, haven't you given it up, yet.” 

© GG 2012    

All content purely fictional, any similarities to real persons, places, firms, etc. are purely coincidental. 

 

The waitresses at Paradise Exiles: Fabrizia, the Architect

Fabrizia was an exception among the waitresses at Exiles, as she was neither looking stunning nor sweet, but very interesting. She was a small blonde, maybe 165 cm. Her body was not totally  perfect, the legs a bit too short, the ass a bit too big, the boobs a bit to small, but still very nice. But her face was a different story. It was not classically beautiful, but very attractive and very interesting. You saw right away that you had a person in front of you, with whom you could have stimulating conversations. Her smile was an invitation to start to talk.

All waitresses at Exiles have to smile when they serve you a dish. The smile immediately stops when the dish hits the table. Its task is to compensate you for the exasparated look the bartenders sometimes give you when you order. There seems to be a fear that someone could rob them of the beer.Therefore all managing bartenders had a revolver tattooed to their hip. That was actually a very good idea, because that way they always had it on them when they may need it, they probably thought.

I purposely misinterpreted Fabrizia's smile, the serving gesture, as an invitation to start to talk. As she was blonde I asked her whether she was Turkish. That may sound counterintuitive, but at least in Istanbul lots of women are blonde. She said no, she was Italian and her pronunciation confirmed it. There are lots of Italian blondes, too, but I would not have thought, that an Italian would work in Malta. I was hoping to impress her with a Turkish carpet that I once bought, but that wouldn't work now.

So I asked her, why she worked in Malta. She said she needed to improve her English for her work. I asked her what she was doing and she told me that she was finishing her studies as an architect and wanted to work in an international architecture firm. That was great, I thought, because I could start a conversation about majolica designed by the renowned Italian architect Gio Ponti, especially his majolica family “Le mie donne” which contains pictures of a women called Fabrizia, too. But she did not know Gio Ponti. She was just too young, I think she told me, she was twenty three and Ponti had passed away about thirty years ago. So that line of conversation did not work.

I tried something more basic. I told her that two days ago I overheard a conversation of a regular guest who apparently was an editor of an architecture journal and who had promised another guest, a young British architecture student, to introduce him to Maltese architects. I decribed her, how that editor looked like and advised her to approach her when she came again. But Fabrizia told me that she did not want to work in Malta as an architect, as Malta was not international enough. She wanted to work in an international firm, in well known cities like Paris, London or NYC. I saw no way, to contradict this argument, so that line of conversation didn't work, either.

So I finally mentioned my friend Vera, who owned an architecture firm in Vienna. As far as I remembered Vera used to hire graduates right from university. So I suggested this to Fabrizia. I pointed out, that while Vienna was no Paris or London, it was a good 2^nd tier capital and therefore a reasonable place to start and then to move on to one of the cities of her desire. But Fabrizia remarked correctly, that she did not speak German, so working in a local Viennese architecture firm was out of the question. Again she was right, and it was impossible to start a conversation with her, that would be meaningful to her.

© GG 2012    

All content purely fictional, any similarities to real persons, places, firms, etc. are purely coincidental. 

The waitresses at Paradise Exiles: Agata, the Goddess

Paradise Exiles, short “Exiles” is the simple beach cafe in Sliema, that I have mentioned several times already. You have to know where it is, because you cannot see it from the road. There is no sign pointing to it. You can only see it from the sea. In the evening you could locate it by the music from the jukebox, which they turn on quite strongly after sunset. But last year someone built a much bigger and posher beach club right next to it, so you would probably fall into this one. It is called “The Exiles”, which is confusing only to tourists. The entire beach is called “Exiles”. The only thing not called “Exiles” at this beach is the bus stop which originally was called “Ghaddir”. There was a bus stop called “Exiles”, but this was one stop closer to St. Julians, beyond the Exiles beach. You may ask, why didn't they call the bus stop at the Exiles beach “Exiles”? In order to understand this, you have to know the recent history of the Maltese bus system. But I will elaborate on this in another post.

Exiles, the simple beach cafe, is all about atmosphere. Without the atmosphere you would not want to be there. The atmosphere is provided by a great location and generally great music from the jukebox. The music selected by the guests fits the name, “Paradise Exiles”. The second most frequently played title is “Sympathy for the Devil” from the Stones' album “Beggers Banquet” (sic). Number three is Peter Tosh'es “Legalize It”, the lead title of his album. Number one is, surprisingly, “Thunder on the Mountain” from Bob Dylan's “Modern Times”. But in order to make the Exiles a ”Gesamtkunstwerk” in the sense of Viennese “Jugendstil” you need generally great waitresses, too. They are the subject of this and the following posts.

The most memorable one was Agata, a student from the Karpat mountains in Slovakia. Agata simply had one of the most beautiful bodies I have ever seen. Agata was maybe 178 cm tall. She had incredibly long legs, which were supporting a delightfully shaped ass. The ass provided a solid basis for a perfect torso. Her breasts' estimated dimensions, 80 B (+- 7 % estimation error, p=0.05), were a harmonic fit to her body. Her arms were perfect, too, not too slim, not too strong. Her face was quite pleasant, although a friend of mind claimed to detect a tiny bit of a ducklike flavor. I disagree and  I would not have minded this at all, because I find totally perfect looking women not sexy at all. I think a slight imperfection is preferable, as it makes them lascivious. She was always perfectly tanned as she spent much of her free time on the beach below the cafe. This had the advantage that you could revere her not just on her working days.

Agata was a very friendly girl, too. Whenever I ordered something, she would serve it exactly the way I wished it, without me having too tell her. Whether it was with more salad or more potatoes, any special spices, extra ice with the drinks, she remembered all my preferences and made sure that I got them. Of course she always told me, if she would not advise me to order something I wanted. Once I complained that the music was too loud and I could not talk with my friend. She immediately tried to persuade the manager to turn the volume down, although she told me that other guests had requested the same and he had always refused. But when I asked her, she would insist so much with the manager, that he did turn down the volume – on the next evening.

Agata was totally faithful, too. She would always be alone on the beach. Her boyfriend served his term in the Slovak army, which was the reason why she went ot Malta during summer. She knew him from school and never had had a different one. She described him as being extremely kind and warm. A perfect fit. 

 

Unfortunately it meant that I had no chance with Agata. But I will remember her as the goddess of the waitresses at the Exiles.

© GG 2012   

All content purely fictional, any similarities to real persons, places, firms, etc. are purely coincidental.