We had a respectably early breakfast this morning. We chose the buffet. The server Sandra explained to us that if we wished to order à la carte, we must use our phone to scan the QR code on the back of our plastic room key to see the menu.  I tried it just to educate myself. The code on the room key directed one to the hotel web site. In any event we chose the buffet. Mine was fruit, oatmeal and an omelette made-to-order by the terribly accommodating sideboard chef. Indeed I can say that all the staff here are doing a fine job. For example the woman cleaning our room later this morning, upon entering the room saw an older woman coming down the hallway carrying heavy bags. The cleaner motioned the woman to stop and then called the front desk to have a porter come to assist.

Last evening the house manager of the dining room approached us at the end of our meal. He was pleased to receive our overall approbation. As for putting one’s money where one’s mouth is, there are two features of note.  One, they now include a 20% tip on the bill (“as a convenience “ which it is).  This I understand from my erstwhile physician (a globe trotter) is now standard custom throughout Europe if indeed not practically everywhere else. Two, there is a burgeoning acquaintance with another on-line tradition upon checking out of the hotel; namely, to acknowledge staff by name. If they get a high enough rating the employer gives the staff member a bonus. This is but a commercial application of social media’s absorption with “Likes”.  I willingly tolerate this manner of recognition because in most instances staff are meagrely paid by their employer.

These amendments now regularly filtering travel are but another signal of the evolution of technology. And also the evolution of oneself; viz., aging. This is reflected most noticeably to me by the music which is playing throughout the resort – by the pool, at breakfast, at dinner, even out of the fake “rocks” along the walkways to and from the rooms.  And the music, apart from being predominantly “modern”, is loud (to the point we had difficulty hearing one another at table while dining and at breakfast this morning).  It was reminiscent of the tea dance in Provincetown fifty years ago. The noise is certainly acceptable if lubricated by alcoholic beverages (when traditionally the rhythm is more gripping than what others are saying). It would I am certain constitute a mockery to suggest Baroque or opera even for a moment. The point is this: I have graduated to the level of talent scout only. That is, I am an observer not the observed.

I thus content myself to note with indisputable pleasure the stunning salmon-coloured pants; the athletic assembly of white cotton and black skin; the latest foot apparel; and of course the occasional Adonis, always a credit to any generation of humanity.