The ponderings of a prosecco infused mind

The Piano Salon

I descended those school steps with my earphones plugged in, listening to Mozart's sonata in A major, drowning out the chaotic rush of leaving school on a Friday.  Herds of people, in groups, pairs, or threes, and there I was, in solitude.  I had grown fond of it, and I couldn't do much about it.  Having only moved here recently, I was a newcomer, and everyone already had a place where they belong.  I couldn't just barge into other's lives when they already have theirs.  

As a gazed around, the music started to fade to an end, and reality was returning.  I remember distinctly, seeing a group of friends in my class, all merry and about to head their separate ways, when one of them, pulled her sleeve up to glance at her watch.  Realising she was late, she waved goodbye and darted away with her light blue backpack bouncing behind her, and her bobbed blonde left a pleasant scent.  Back to my phone I thought.  

The quaint town of Ballyfaineant was located by the shore, and the school was no more than a kilometre away.  On a clear, quiet day, you can hear the water lapping and the sea breeze flowing through the school.  Other than that, there wasn't much going on.  Or at least that's what I had thought if I didn't go wander around that afternoon.  

The high-street had a relaxed atmosphere.  Everyone was taking it slowly, indulging in the beautiful weather, some patrons sipping on their café latte, immersed in their books, children flocking in the park and two were flying their kite, or trying at least.  One has theirs stuck in a tree.  I decided to veer off and wander into one of the side streets.

I took of my earphones and admired the dark, mesmerising alleyway that led to the sea.  Or rather, it had a sound that was mesmerising.  The gentle tickling of the ivories, and timely rhythms gave way to a melodious Chopin piece.  As I ventured closer to the sea, it grew louder, then softer, and almost fainted away until I made some steps back.  Retracing my steps, the piano keys continued to reverberate in the alleyway.  But the piano, and the pianist was nowhere in sight.  I stood in the middle of the romanesque-like alleyway, craned my neck in search of this music.  There was an open window, and the music flowed from there.  It continued its jaunty pace as I was searching for a piano school, and there was nowhere to be seen.  A small local bakery with a scruffy man wearing a floured apron inside, a plump florist arranging her flowers on display, doors that lead to the apartments upstairs, and a door curiously titled, keys and coffee.  A part of me yearned to return home.  But my feet decided otherwise.  

As I ascended those stairs, the music grew a bit louder, but it was fading to an end.  I knew I was heading in the right direction.  I stopped on the way up and took a peek back down the alley.  It's like those movies based in 18th century Europe, where the streets are a bit dark, damp and dreary.  The walls between the balconies of two buildings hung not flags, but laundry.  Thankfully, it wasn't as dirty or as dreary.  But it had that sort of feel to it.  And all I heard was the waves from the ocean.  It yielded this gentle refreshing sea breeze as it passed through.  And the piano resumed.  

As I reached to the top and opened the door, the door chimes rang, interrupting the beginning of Chopin's Ballade.  Not a single customer batted an eye.  There was an old lady knitting next to an antique cabinet with a record player on top, and a fine china cup next to it, presumably her tea.  An older gentlemen was reading his newspaper, lowered it to take a sip of his coffee, and another gentleman rising with his plate and cup to pay his bill.  I stood by the entrance in awe.  It was about the size of a typical living room, converted into a café of some sort, and strangely, a grand piano (Steinway & sons I might add) in the corner.  The kitchen walls had been knocked down and has this mini-bar counter with some pastries like a buttergipfel, pain au chocolat on display.  Behind, there was a small grill for croque monsieur or other toasts, and a small fridge with a limited, but appetising choice of dessert.  The gentleman paid, praised the waitress for the service and the sublime pastry.  She replied it was made by the scruffy man down below, and he should sing his praises there instead. As he departed, I strolled to the counter, ordered a café latte  and the enticing panna cotta.  As I pulled out my wallet, the waitress replied smilingly "you can pay later."

I found a seat by the balcony that overlooked the sea from the alleyway, feeling the sea breeze and listening to what I would call, the pinnacle of Chopin's Ballade.  The frothing of the milk drowned a bit of the music, but I was in the state of euphoria and couldn't care less.  With the fruity panna cotta melting in my mouth, I decided to pull out a book and started to read for a bit.  

I read so intently, I didn't know the music had stopped, and the cup of coffee was already served to me.  The pianist was nowhere to be seen.  In fact, I didn't even notice her at all when I entered!  What was he like?  I wanted to meet him, and compliment his work.  I put down my book and looked around.  There she was, the bobbed blonde.  She chatted with the waitress in a hearty way, and walked towards the piano, sat on the stool, and started to play Chopin's nocturne in E major.  It was delicate, soft, dreamy, what a nocturne should be, especially on this warm summer's afternoon, or evening as the time ticked away.  The café should be renamed paradise, or is it a name too misleading?  In a darkish alleyway, tucked away upstairs, a place called paradise.  

The old lady knitting stopped and checked to time.  The older gentleman folded his newspaper, returned the cup, placed his hand on the waitress' should and said in a gruffy voice "Put it on my tab", and left.  The old lady stood up as she stopped playing, and thanked her for the day's work.  She entered one of the rooms marked "private".  

The bobbed blonde helped the waitress tidy the store up and got ready to leave.  Then she noticed me.  

I looked at my watched, and realised it was already 5pm.  I returned my plate and the blonde took care of my bill.  The other waitress was probably in the bathroom.  

"What's your name?  I see you around in my classes." she asked. 

"Keiichiro, but people call me Kei.  And you are...?"

"Lillian" she smiled, and handed me my change. 

"So do you work here as a pianist or as a waitress here?"

"Both.  But mainly as a part time pianist.  So how did you find this place?  It's very uncommon for students to come here."

"I was wandering around the streets, but then I heard someone playing the piano, and it led me to you somehow."  " And you played really well."  I added.

She grinned, and walked around the counter to fetch her bag.  "Thanks!  And feel free to come back anytime."  She opened the chimed door, and left.

The waitress returned and said "it's closing time now."

I just realised, my coffee is now cold.