Olive Oil

Picture taken at Dugawon

There's something oddly fascinating about the food served at fancy restaurants. There's always something to notice, and today as well, there was something to catch my eye: the dipping for freshly baked bread.

Olive Oil.

Balsamic Vinegar.

There's something pleasing just looking at it, the contrast of the two warm hues. The dark, translucent yellow-green of the oil and the brown of the vinegar, darker still, bordering red... I've yet to see that same blend of colors anywhere else.

Perhaps my interest has something to do with how the two liquids refuse to intermix. The vinegar draws in on itself, tightening, like a person huddled to avoid a crowd, to not take up too much space. Or, strange metaphor aside, perhaps I found amusement in how the brown bubble slips and slides, skimming over the surface of the olive lake. A pool upon a pool. It's merely a difference in density - I know this well.

However, this knowledge doesn't mean I can't see the simplistic beauty in it.

The food itself was fine, though perhaps not completely suited to my tastes. The serving waiter today was older than those working in the restaurants closer to my home - early forties, I'd assume. Of all the people I've noticed today, he has become the subject of today's post. I am not particularly sure why this man caught my interest, so perhaps if I leave as detailed a description as I can manage, someone will have an answer for me.

The same as all the waiters of that restaurant, this man wore suitable attire - white dress shirt, black vest, black bow tie, black slacks, black loafers.

He was Korean - black hair, dark eyes - his skin a shade off of fair. The faint, just-forming wrinkles upon his face betrayed his age, despite a youthful figure. Matured, but not old. Five birthmarks dotted his right jaw, patterned like that of a dice, and yet another marked his left cheekbone. His hair was styled conservatively (unlike another waiter who had a heart carved into the short hairs above his neck).

He wore a large watch, black with silver accents, roman numerals, which seemed somewhat expensive, on his left wrist. On that same arm, he had a thick silver band upon his fourth finger. A wedding ring? Perhaps, though the unconventional styling of the ring - centimeter wide, snake-like designs embellished and winding around the circumference - and the tarnish made it unlikely.

His smile was professional, clearly a service employee, but not at all like I assume would be his usual - not large enough a smile to crinkle the laugh-lines that had already set into his skin. What caught my notice most, however, was that slight tremor of his arm as he poured the people at my table their glasses of water.

The waiter with the heart in his hair didn't tremble.

Well, all the same, there is one more observation I would like to jot down before I bring this post to a close. Today, from my seat at the table, I could see another group further off - four office workers, laughing and dining to their hearts content.

The positioning of their legs intrigued me most.

The first sat with one shoe on and one shoe off. The man's left foot was set firmly, sole-down, upon the floor, his discarded loafer lying crooked beside it. His right foot, shoe-free, wrapped in a grey sock, was perched upon his left knee.

The second sat with ankles crossed. He sat with knees together, ankles crossed, feet tucked beneath his chair in a manner that reminded me of my brother's cello instructor when she wore a long skirt. His weight was on the balls of his feet as he leaned forward, yet didn't support himself with his arms upon the table.

The third sat in a most peculiar manner, with his feet balanced on the points of his loafers. His feet didn't shift the entire meal, completely stable in what otherwise would have seemed an uncomfortable posture. Humorously enough, looking at his feet, I thought of ballet dancers and their toe shoes. Perhaps he had been a ballerino in the past? Well, I wouldn't bet money on it, but just a thought.

The fourth's legs were hidden from my sight. Perhaps he had tucked them up an knelt upon his chair or sat cross-legged? More likely, my seat didn't allow me a clear view of him.

In any case, today was an enjoyable day.