Café Pacific.
I am sitting inside the bar of the Café Pacific, drinking a cold beer. I sit on a barstool by the window and look out over the dark, rough ocean. The waves roar and crash on the rocks down below.
Inside the bar there is a small crowd of locals, bustling to and fro between the bar and their tables. The barman is always busy serving drinks to a new customer. Then he would ring up the order on the till, sort out the change, and walk down the length of the bar the bar to the next customer.
Smoke fills the air inside of the bar in thick swirls, and the ashtrays on the tables over-flow with ash and cigarette butts. On the walls are photographs of old ships. The people drink, and laugh and converse with each other around their respective tables, spread out over the bar-area. There is a constant hum-drum of noise, as they relax and drink and speak among one another.
I sit, not really paying attention to any of the talk, but keep myself occupied with my own thoughts, as I look out over the sea. It is pleasant inside, and I sit for a long time looking out of the window, out at sea.
I sit and drink my beer slowly, as the talk and camaraderie in the bar continues, and darkness starts to fall outside. Still the sea roars, and the mighty waves tumble and crash on the rocks…
