Leeward 'watering hole' offers Hawaii's best of aloha

Spinners cafe on the Waianae Coast

"Come on and sit down and join us here.  We have plenty of food to share after you have picked up your plate.  Lots of people to meet, and just sit and watch the ocean with the rest of us."
The friendly greeting from the group echoes through the small cafe, the Waianae 'watering hole' that is the best kept secret of new and old visitors, in the traditions of many places around the world.

The sun streams through the windows, with its diamond-like spears coming in with its warmth even as it touches the ocean in the near distance, as strangers and friends gather around a table, sharing what is called "empty your refrigerator" time, as a prelude to friendly chatter and great food.

In France they tip on Main Street

[caption id="attachment_7521" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="Gare de Lyon railway station, Paris, waiting for a train back south. And yeah, I left a tip..."][/caption]

Michael Cosgrove - In France they even kiss on main street as Joni Mitchell pointed out. But as British Prime Minister David Cameron, who is on holiday in Italy, showed recently, tipping isn’t mandatory in Europe and nor should it be.

Cameron was surely hoping that after the Murdoch tabloid press scandal, the war in Libya and other pressing issues that put him under intense pressure at the beginning of summer that he had earned the right to a little peace and quiet, which is why he went to sunny Tuscany in Italy for a holiday with his wife Samantha. But that was not how things turned out alas, and he soon found himself embroiled in controversy once again, and this time over the serious issue of…tipping.

The British press is today relating with delectation – and not a little malicious humor - how he went into a bar in Montevarchi a day or two ago and ordered coffees for himself and Samantha, only to be told by the busy waitress that he would have to carry them to his terrace table himself. The story goes that when he went back inside to pay he didn’t leave a tip. Not even five cents. Needless to say, it was all over the Internet and in today’s printed papers in less time than it takes to say 'how much do I owe you?' Ironically, the tabloid press has snared him.

It would effectively seem a little strange that a man who can afford to pay thousands of Euros for a hotel room and hundreds more for a meal should be so tight-fisted that he wouldn’t leave a 25-cent tip for a waitress, but I would argue that he was right to put his change back in his wallet.

Service in Bars and restaurants is organized along roughly similar lines in both Italy and France. You sit down where you like without asking when you go to a bar and you ask for a table if you are in a restaurant. The waiter or waitress looks after the service and when it’s time to pay you consider whether or not to leave a tip.

Tipping etiquette is roughly the same in both countries. It is not mandatory but if the service is good and if what you have ordered is of reasonable to good quality it is good manners to leave a tip of around 10%, and even 15% if you are very happy with things. Make sure you have some loose change on you in case you decide to pay by credit card.

That’s what they say in tourist guides and for the most part it’s true. But here’s the reality rub.

Self-service cafés in Italien and French department stores, airports, train stations, self-service sushi bars, Chinese midday eateries and quick pizza joints, not to mention the large chain retail bakery-café outlets and sandwich counters that are to be found in ever-larger numbers, and even bars that sell alcohol, have begun putting tips bowls next to the point of payment.

I sat down on a café terrace in Lyon one afternoon a few months ago for a cool drink after an hour’s cycling, waiting for the waiter to come. He didn’t come after ten minutes so I went inside to ask if – as sometimes happens – the waiter had not seen me for one reason or another. And I heard;

“It’s bar service here monsieur. We don’t have waiters and waitresses.”

Flabbergasted as I was, I managed to order my Perrier-no-ice, pay for it, and carry it outside to my table. Opening the door to get out with two full hands was a little tricky but I finally worked it out and didn’t drop anything.
And when I left, I did not leave a tip on the table. Why?

Because I am someone who worked for five years as a waiter when he first arrived in France, bereft of any ability to speak French and thus condemned to serve tourists to earn a crust. I now earn a relatively easy living by putting words in front of your eyes and working just six hours a day. But I have not for as much forgotten what it is to put not words, but drinks, in front of your eyes.

I remember, twenty years ago, carrying four plates of food at once, putting up with insults from ignorant tourists, catering to the puerile whims of the rich and famous, unloading drinks delivery trucks and loading bar fridges, learning at the end of the evening that my pay had been docked by 50 dollars because of the table that left without paying, going to some bar somewhere to relax with my fellow waiters when the day was done at two in the morning,, having a few drinks and getting over it all, getting just a few hours sleep and doing the same thing the next day and the next and the next and on and on it went. I vividly remember how hard that job was – and it was very hard – but despite the hard side, many people left tips for me. I was very grateful, needless to say. Without those tips I would have felt very lonely. I would have had financial problems. So now I do my bit to pay back the tips that I was offered.

Which is why I think that Cameron was right not to leave a tip, strange as that may seem. Nobody should tip for the dubious pleasure of watching a number flash up on the customer side of a till display, paying before even tasting what they bought, hearing “have a nice day” and carrying their own meals or drinks to a table. No employer should be able to get away with paying checkout girls a misery of a salary whilst promising them a beggar's bowl of tips.

If table service is to disappear in Europe, so be it, that's how it goes. Swimming against the tide is futile after all. But I shall swim against that tide nevertheless, and I shall swim with vigor. I think it would be wise to protect those jobs which offer us human contact, an interaction, an interface with the rest of the world, even be it for just the ten minutes it takes to drink a coffee and smoke a cigarette, and if the waitress has a minute to talk, hey, any guy is happy with that, and the same goes for the ladies and the waiters. These things are important.

I would have done the same if I had been David Cameron, and I would, moreover, strongly exhort those who visit Italy and France to follow that example and by doing so not add to the thin edge of the wedge. If you are a tourist in Italy or France, and if you want to help maintain good and traditional service in Europe, do not tip anywhere that does not bring what you ordered to you, to your table, and do not frequent their establishments.

Jobs for all? Sure. But let's all do our bit to stop low wages and bad service...even if we know that the battle cannot be won......

The French say ‘tout fout le camp.’ In English that gives ‘things ain’t what they wuz any more…’

‘Vive la revolution’ I say!

In praise of….other people’s holidays

[caption id="attachment_7446" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="The almost deserted banks of Lyon's Rhône River"][/caption]

Michael Cosgrove – Summer holidays offer the prospect of peace and relaxation after a grinding first six months of the year, and many people spend a good deal of money on them. But my holidays are free this year, they are going to last six weeks, and here’s why.

I have lived in Lyon France for almost fifteen years now and have come to appreciate its beauty, its elegance and its genteel – almost provincial – ways. I have spent a year elsewhere every few years though, and the last time that happened was five years ago, when I went to live in Bordeaux for a while to help a friend start up her business there.

After six months I came back up to Lyon alone to spend a weekend with a friend and I distinctly remember rolling into town after a seven-hour drive, looking at the red roofs and proud 18th century facades as they came into view, and saying aloud “I love this town. It’s my town.” My town? It was at that moment that I decided to finish up what I was doing down south as soon as possible and get back to Lyon. I’d never ‘missed’ a town before apart from my hometown, but there’s a first time for everything.

It was great to get back to Lyon, and I have been very happy here since, although as Lyon is a big city - at least by French standards - there are moments when the sheer number of cars in the streets, the noise, the crowds of people not only downtown but elsewhere, the packed subway trains and buses and the stress that that inevitably causes means that I sometimes need a holiday.

So, like everyone else, I have gone on holiday for two or three weeks each summer, mainly to other countries. But holidays can be tiring too, particularly if you visit major cities or capital cities in other countries, and I would sometimes get back from them almost as tired as I had been when I left.

But things are different this year because for various reasons related to work and my family I have not been able to leave Lyon for a real holiday. So here I am, in Lyon, watching the city slowly empty itself of people, the hundreds of thousands of people who are its lifeblood. Cars flood out of the city and head south towards the Mediterranean sun and the golden beaches that have made the French Riviera one of the most famous holiday spots in the world. The airport is busy flying planeload after planeload of people out to everywhere from Ibiza to India and from Chicago to China. It was a little disconcerting at first.

The city became unusually – almost strangely – quiet. It was difficult to get used to the silence at first. It was as if the birds, even though we don’t consciously listen to them most of the time, suddenly stopped singing. But I soon began to appreciate that this quieter version of Lyon was beckoning me to venture outside and explore it, so I did. This street is normally bustling with people, but not at the moment. I’m in a sort of ghost town, but I feel good in it. I'm on a staycation.

[caption id="attachment_7447" align="aligncenter" width="480" caption="Where did all the people go?"][/caption]

Half of the shops and restaurants are shut in most areas of the city except downtown and St Jean, where tourists have taken over from the vanishing locals. Gone are the streams of cars, motorcycles and vans which usually roar past my apartment building each morning starting at 6AM, gone are the crowded buses and streets, and gone are the thousands of people who enjoy a walk or a bike ride down on the banks of the Rhône River, to be replaced by swans and ducks.

[caption id="attachment_7449" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="Swans and ducks take a siesta on the banks of Lyon's Rhône River"][/caption]

I thought I knew Lyon like the back of my hand but I was wrong. Two weeks into the six-week period which will see Lyon working at a fraction of its capacity I am able to discover areas I know and love undisturbed and see them in a different light and in a more thoughtful manner. I can sit down in them and think. And look around me. I can cycle anywhere without having to breath in the exhaust fumes of thousands of cars and endure the clamor of revving engines and honking horns. My favorite streets and boulevards are welcoming by their relative emptiness and quiet.

[caption id="attachment_7450" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="This boulevard is normally choked with traffic"][/caption]

It’s like being privileged in a way. Everything is suddenly within easy reach on my bike, and I always get a seat on subways and buses. Rush hours are almost non-existent.  I was the only person on a bus recently when it pulled out of what is usually one of the biggest road/rail/bus/subway interchanges in Europe. I spoke to the driver for five minutes about the suspension used on buses, which wouldn’t be possible in normal circumstances.

Bad service has disappeared as shop, bar and restaurant staff relax as their workload falls. People get served more quickly and they have a chance to chat for a moment if they so wish. It’s easier to notice individuals, like this lady on her balcony, surrounded by mostly shuttered apartments. I would never have seen her three weeks ago, when many people were on the balconies in this particular building, sunning themselves and watching the activity in the street below.



Even the impossible is now a reality as far as the stars in the sky are concerned, as I can actually see them at night as pollution levels fall and less lighting is used in homes and offices.

Lyon is emptying, and its population is deserting it for crowded beaches, high prices and restaurants with queues to get in. But I remain one of the few lucky citizens of this city who are finally able to enjoy it to the full. It’s all there, every day, waiting quietly for me in the sun.

I am currently enjoying a truly relaxing six-week holiday. Other people’s holidays have emptied Lyon, and this really is “my town” for once.