ERUPTION

We both woke early, buzzing with excitement at the thought of going up the mountain. My Kiwi friend was obviously used to volcanoes but had never been to the summit of one. On the way from the south of the island we got a bit lost and had to ask directions, me asking the questions and D listening to the answers, as neither of us had the confidence to do both. With all the delays it was nearly 2pm when we saw a restaurant on the road up and as we were starving we decided to stop for lunch. The place looked quaint , a bit run down, and there were signs everywhere indicating  that wild mushrooms were their speciality.

When we went inside, the dining room was empty, not a soul to be seen, but the open sign was up so we chose a table near a window looking onto the forest and took a seat. Minutes passed without any indication of service, or even of there being anyone there. After five minutes I had a look around, and finding the kitchen door knocked on it calling out ‘pronto’, which was the only applicable word I could think of. The door was opened immediately by a heavyset middle-aged man, furrowed brow, angry expression. Behind him was an older woman, possibly his mother as she had the same furrowed brow and angry expression. I explained, as best I could, that we would like lunch, and the man grabbed a menu from a nearby table and followed me back to the dining room.

We ordered as quickly as we could, despite none of the promised mushroom items being available, and the man gave us some bread and poured some water before heading back to the kitchen. Another ten minutes passed in total silence, then we heard doors slamming and loud voices, shouting, screaming. It went on and on for another 10 minutes, unceasingly and with no sign of food coming, then after a particularly ear-piercing scream, and the sound of breaking glass, we jumped up in unison and ran back to the car.