Saturday evening, we drove down to Miami Beach to have dinner with Robb's elderly cousin (once removed). Who uses such terminology? We were supposed to eat in the building restaurant, but it had closed a day or two before. His cousin (Helen) didn't discover that fact until just a short while before we got there. It's not really surprising. The area is full of decent restaurants, and unless they advertised, no one would know they were there. So their clientele is pretty much limited to the people who live in Costa Brava. There are twenty-two floors and, according to their ad, 216 apartments, but it's not enough to support a restaurant where the food is mediocre at best.
Helen suggested a nearby Greek restaurant. Of course, our car only holds two people, so we had to take her car and her assistant, Claudette, drove. When we arrived, I saw the name of the place was Sardinia. My geography isn't all that great, but I know that Sardinia is nowhere near Greece, and is, in fact, Italian. But one must remember, Helen is ninety-two. Robb and I had what they called "sea bass", and although it was delicious, it wasn't like any sea bass we've ever had before. If you read about our experience in Café Seville, you'll recall that I complained about the noise. Compared to the Sardinia, Café Seville was quiet as a tomb. While we were eating, three guys sat at the table next to us. One of them remarked, "This is the first time we haven't talked to each other in forty years." Sardinia is situated near the shore, and I tried to take a couple of pics but they all came out very blurred.