Inside the restaurant, I saw that my assumptions were correct. It was exactly as I had pictured it: Small, dark…intimate. The dining area was a single room with a dozen or so white-clothed tables lining the walls, each lit by tiny hurricane lamps. Many of the tables were occupied, mostly by couples. On the walls hung black and white pictures of old fishing boats. A man in a white shirt and black pants led us to a table in the back right corner. I was relieved to see the tables directly around ours were empty…we would be able to talk without being overheard.