shell beans has long been a bastion of culinary excellence, i inform my friend saththaaru, who does a double-take in his affectedly comical manner. we clamber up the stairs and saththaaru says: ‘let’s sit outside,’ and i tell him ‘it’s too hot, let’s sit inside,’ and saththaaru responds ‘no, there’s a breeze, it’s pleasant out,’ and i say ‘it’s not cool enough dammit, let’s sit here.’

and so saththaaru plops resignedly on a chair by the huge glass window.

‘what do you feel like?’ i ask.

‘you treating?’

‘yah.’

‘i’d like a refreshing beverage.’

‘i recommend the sprite.’

‘sold,’ says saththaaru. ‘what are you having?’

‘bon aqua.’

‘good choice, both by the same company.’

the waiter arrives and we give our orders.

‘bring the sprite with a slice of lime,’ i instruct him.

when the waiter leaves saththaaru says: you know i don’t really care for sliced fruit in my drink. they keep touching my lip when i sip.

‘huh,’ i say and look out the window.

the waiter brings our drinks.

‘wow, you’ve got TWO slices of lime. and not on the rim.’

‘this is new.’

he takes a sip.

‘it’s great. the extra slice is extremely refreshing.’

‘it’s also the ambience.’ i pronounce it ‘ahm be ahns’, appropriate in this setting.

we hear someone scream in what seems like huvadhoo bas from below.

‘you know how you can tell if someone’s a raajjetherey person?’ says saththaaru.

‘go on.’

‘they pronounce assume as ‘AZUME’’

i shake my head. you can take the addu man and put him in bristol but…

‘say what you will about shell beans but it keeps out the rubes,’ i remark.

saththaaru nods.

we finish our drinks and ask for the bill. the can of sprite cost just 38 MVR plus service charge and tax. the water 30++.

i hand the cashier a crisp 500 note and ask him to put points on my loyalty programme. outside, the day is bright gold and the sea undulates like a sheet of blue silk in the wind. it’s a million rufiyaa view and we got off parting with a measly 120. what’s that to a man of mean?

‘to life lived!’ i say.

‘amen.’