I arrived in D at about 1.30pm, well before the hotel opened for business at 4.00 pm. So, what does one do in a deserted town on a Saturday? Out in the countryside Saturday's and Sunday's, even sometimes Mondays are holidays! Most shops shut- a few like bread shops and cafe bars, which do not sell food are open.

The name of the Hotel was Malpel, I have no idea what it means, but I can think of a few choice ones with letters MAL included. I did check to see if anyone was there- no luck; found a bakery purchased a sausage roll, went two doors down to a bar, consumed my purchase with a beer and started writing my notes and brushing away flies- yes, the little black ones, just like home.

Just before 4.00pm I returned to the hotel just as another arrived, who was having first - a conversation with the wall, and then his mobile. Bingo! He was given an access code and it worked, so I pushed in right behind him- (I had not local access for my phone nor the code). I must have had my " don't mess with me" look, and convinced him I was a legitimate guest. Sure enough, my name was written on a white board with the number of my room. Yes, you guessed it, another spiral staircase to climb with my heavy bag, which was mysteriously there behind a curtain.

There was a note on the desk in my room to say the Dining room was closed and gave directions in French to where I would find my dinner- a local Pizzeria restaurant. Had a bath and went down stairs, still no staff; checked the entry code and headed out to what I thought was the place. The surrounding streets were deserted but the restaurant was alive with people arriving with presents- some celebration I thought, but quickly discovered I was not invited. It was a special party and the place was closed. I pleaded my cause- no one at the hotel, no dining room and I was sent here for my paid for dinner- I am not sure just how much was understood but it seems that the "learned helpless" look worked once more- the manager of the place said I could order a takeaway Pizza and brought a complimentary plastic cup of beer while I waited for a tall black man (the head chef) to prepare my meal. I went to pay him, but he waved me away. So, I returned to the hotel used the code, still no one around, and prepared to eat the pizza, washed down with sparkling water. As I did so I checked the note on my desk- there was another Pizza joint across town and that was where I should have been! Not to be denied, I left most of the Pizza and went off looking for my place. A late-night chemist gave me directions- 500 metres and one dangerous roundabout- I am still looking left when I should be looking right- I found that there were not one, but three, pizza shops. I quickly discovered that none of them was the right one. Finally, I found the place and yes, they were waiting for me and my 'set for one table' in the middle of a very busy place orchestrated by a lovely and welcoming lady who spoke English.

Forget the pizza going cold back at the hotel this was the real deal and with wine to accompany the delicious spaghetti Bol.

When one dines on one's own, or walks on one's own, or is just on one's own, new insights or new interpretations surface. As I ploughed through my spaghetti Bol I observed the hostess greet every guest with the famed French kiss. You know the one where one moves to the left then to the right and back to the left? (Or is it the other way around?) Have you ever asked why not just the simple frontal brief lips to lips we use?

Well here is one possible explanation: while our greeting momentarily stops a conversation, the French with the left, right, left greeting can continue talking as they greet. The hostess did so with every new guest except me! Yes, it took some time when six guests arrived at the same time but all seemed well satisfied with the welcome.

But I digress. I returned to the what I think was the first complete Robo hotel where everything takes place away from the hotel and the guests are expected to fend for themselves. Apart from the noises from the few other guests who rattled around in the noisy building, no staff did I see.

Early the next morning I rose from a disrupted sleep, packed and made ready for the day. I checked downstairs to see if any of the Robos had turned up. No. What about breakfast? All the doors were locked the only sign that someone had entered the building were two trays one with large baguettes and the other with fresh croissants. Following the policy of do it yourself hotel, I took one croissant and one large baguette to my room. Ate the baguette with what was left of the sparkling water, broke the baguette in half, stuffed it into a Paper bag and made ready to depart. As I descended to the lobby there was life- a Dining room was open and breakfast of croissants and baguettes was being served. I hope the manager did not count the Bs and Cs.

So, I left in haste! The weather was overcast, slight rain, but nothing to deter the intrepid pilgrim (of whom I saw very few). Early on I came upon a scene -a critically important one of animal husbandry- there in a paddock, a herd of about twenty cows and one bull. I thought here was a scene of perfect service, the TV program "are you being served" came to mind. Not only were those gathered, looking satisfied, just in case Bull #I tired there was always Bull # 2 ready. I had the zany thought these two lads could get a job any time down at the Malpel hotel where only Robos operate.

Remember the name just in case you ever pass by.

Good night and blessings

Jim