Mediterranean · Portfolio essay
A Table at the Edge of the Journey
A meal beside the water offers a final test of whether the traveller knows how to stop collecting experiences.
Written by Paul Wakefield · 2 min read
The table has begun to disappear beneath the evidence of a good decision: a plate, a glass, bread, the camera bag that should probably have been put somewhere else.
Beyond it is the water. There may be a better table, but it is unoccupied for a reason that could involve a reservation, a draught or simply the fact that someone else has already chosen yours.
For once, it is possible to leave the question unresolved.
A Mediterranean meal is easily burdened with expectations before the food arrives. It should be local, memorable, leisurely and preferably accompanied by a view that confirms the wisdom of the trip. The restaurant must satisfy an appetite and a small editorial brief.
Then comes the temptation to photograph everything while it is still arranged as it arrived. A chair is moved. A glass is shifted. Lunch becomes an overhead composition, and the most perishable part of the scene waits politely.
There is pleasure in a food photograph. There is also pleasure in beginning.
Once the camera is put away, the meal acquires the disorder that makes it a meal. Bread breaks unevenly. A plate changes position. The view is interrupted by somebody walking past, which turns out to matter very little. Conversation, if there is company, can proceed without being asked to produce a memorable line.
The water remains available whenever the eye wanders towards it.
Towards the end of a journey, these unremarkable intervals can carry surprising weight. The grander sights have names and files attached to them. A table holds the smaller record: the need to eat, the relief of sitting down, a span of time that was allowed to pass without an additional destination.
Eventually the bill comes. The bag has to be lifted. A chair is pushed back beneath the table and the route resumes, towards a room, a station, an airport or another day.
For a moment before leaving, the table is almost clear again. It is ready to become part of somebody else's journey. Yours has included the simple good fortune of having been hungry here.