Three days in Sitges — a feel-good story in five parts

Part one: The Breakfast

I love it when life directs itself. This time, life directed a trip into a romantic feel-good movie, better than many I’ve seen. No movie is complete without a soundtrack, so press play before you start reading.

Male leads:

me and Arnaud (imagine a ridiculously hot French guy and you’re in the right ballpark)

Supporting roles:

Pascal (the other man)

Thomas, David and Patrik (my friends)

Part 1 — The Breakfast. Scenario: a Tuesday morning in July, on the mezzanine where the breakfast buffet is served, in a charming small hotel with twenty-five rooms, located at the Mediterranean coast.

Faithful to my habits this crazy week, I woke up a couple minutes before ten and went pretty much directly from bed, down to breakfast. The only things I took time for was putting on shorts, a t-shirt and splashing cold water in my face. The hotel we’re staying at is small, with little more than continental breakfast at twelve tables small even with Spanish standards. I was counting on being there alone. There were rarely people at breakfast and my friends were probably still sleeping. I had left the Sitges night in their hands and went to bed early (this too with Spanish standards) the night before — more exactly at 02:08am.

When I got down to the mezzanine where breakfast is served, the hostess is putting things in order, but it’s not her I see; I see the beautiful man sitting at one of the tables, with intense focus on his breakfast. Curly dark hair, scruff eyes that seem dark-green. My guess is that he’s Spanish. Then I realize that he’s looks tall, the table he’s sitting at looks as if made for a child. Maybe not Spanish, on second thought. The hostess greets me with a happy ”¡Hola!”, which makes him quickly look up and echo her in what to me sounds like very good Spanish. I respond with “Good morning”, get my breakfast and take a table on the diagonal from him. I try making some sort of contact, but get no reward for the effort. The only thing he seems to be aware of is his breakfast. It’s way too early, and I’m at least three cups of coffee short of even thinking of how to start a casual conversation with someone who maybe even doesn’t speak English.

A while later he leaves, and I think “oh well, what’s a boy to do?” — but hey, this is Sitges and it’s full of almost as handsome men, and the plans for tonight include beach party with foam. I finish my breakfast and walk up to my room to get ready for a day at the beach. When I start putting on the sun lotion, I have already forgotten the mysterious stranger.