Saturday, August 31, 2013

Stumblin' - Late Night Cafe Life Stumble Inn Style

2013 08 31
Almerimar, Spain

No, really.  We do not like this place, this this English pub in the middle of what is clearly not England.

Our waitress is the Teutonic stereotype: six foot something, blonde, English as a second language, humourless drill sergeant.  She does not take your order rather she orders you to order and then stands at near attention glaring until you comply.  She has the evil eye of every Disney villainess ever drawn on cellophane.  All she is missing is the wart.

She comes armed with a Wagnerian bosom, resembling the business end of a battleship rather than anything alluring, and she ships the full German sense of humour.  The electron microscope was developed as part of the search for the German sense of humour.  So far as I know the search continues.  A couple of the Higgs Bosun researchers are getting involved in an effort to accelerate the effort (no German would find humour in that).

So why do we find ourselves drinking overpriced alcohol and eating forgettable food at the Stumble Inn?  After all we have suggested our friends avoid this cafe.  Backtracking to the food for a second it should be stated not that the food is forgettable but that we wish it were.  Rumour has it that last year two people were hospitalized by the food here. Loss of memory might stand as an aid to digestion and allow slumber undisturbed 

So what brings us to this gem of an outpost of British hooliganism set in the middle of Andalucian Almerimar?  

Well, it is close to the boat.  Only steps away actually.

And the staff are a hoot: a German speaking teutonic dominatrix waiting tables in a British pub set in Andalucia aided by two Spaniard whirlwinds who are so busy they can never get anything done, at least not done right, and a kitchen staffed with what Anthony Burgess could only term a Vellochek intent on a little of the old ultra violence.    

But the real draw of the Stumble Inn is the live music.  Every Friday and Saturday two wandering minstrels, never the same two, set up a small amplifier and speaker and play their guitars and belt out some hoary old cover songs.

Not to overstate the ability of the unkempt, ragged vagabonds, men and women, who grace the three by three foot stage at the Stumble I would note that a week ago there was not actually any playing or singing going on.  It was all lip sync and air guitar.  But the players were really into it and played their parts to the max.

The magic of lip sync almost worked on our table until the guitarist took a solo set and launched into Pink Floyd's "We Don't Need No Education".  He  then purported to sing the chorus - all fifty young english voices heavily accented.  This stretched the suspension of disbelief beyond the breaking point.  As a comedy set it was a big hit.

Last night we had two unilingual German minstrels who played a full panoply of 1970s American Rock music.  "Playing" is perhaps the wrong word.  What took place on the stage more resembled the scene in Hud where the ranchers all gather round the pit full of infected cattle and start shooting.

In fairness perhaps you like the ukelele.  However perhaps the ukelele is not exactly suitable for BB King's Thrill is Gone.  Or maybe it would be if the artist could have fingered more than a single chord.

Another comedy night and more fun that we could ever have contrived on our own.  

Paying our cheque we strolled arm in arm into the gentle night only to find good friends, firends we had warned about the charms of the Stumble Inn, seated at a table on the other side of the playing stage.  We sat with them for the third set.

Which was when the fun really began.

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