Making friends

It is hard to write these fluffy stories of my life, as so much has happened in this country. This week I've seen my roommate frantically searching for her grandfather, setting up accommodations for him, and serving as a switchboard operator so members of her family only miles apart can communicate with each other. Another friend is trying to figure out what to do with her life with the sudden loss of her home and job. Others have taken in hurricane refugees with open arms. And of course, who can miss the images that flash on the television at night of all those who are suffering. But a common theme is the need for community and empathy. So after much contemplation, I decided to post this entry even though it is light and fluffy.

My family tend to repeat the same stories over and over, but there are some of which we never get tire. For example, my mother likes to tell this story about my Uncle F. My aunt had gone to Korea for a few weeks leaving my Uncle F to fend for himself in their house in Germany. Now, my uncle had been a bachelor for a very long time before marrying my aunt and was capable of taking care of things. However, he must have missed having my aunt's chattering around the house. He decided to go down to the local pub for some dinner. As he was eating, he noticed two american girls walk into the pub. These girls were probably backpacking through Europe on some summer trip, but they were ill prepared. They struggled in their attempts to understand the menu and communicate with the waiter. Uncle F saw them and their american accents reminded him of me and my sister. He went over to their table and helped translate everything in his broken English. A little later, as he was sipping his beer, he saw the two americans trying to figure out the check. Thinking about me and my sister again, he thought if we were in this situation he really hoped someone would help us. So he paid for the girls' meal. They in turn gave him some really nasty looks and said something to the effect that they did not appreciate being hit on by an old man. Lesson to be learned: sometimes, no good deed goes unpunished.

On Friday night I went to a local pub with my friend C. The weather was beautiful, but the fight for the tables outside was fierce so he and I decided to eat at the bar. At this particular bar they have a beer sampling deal, in which you can try four 3oz. shot of different kinds of beer for 6 dollars. I thought this was brilliant so I tried eight. This tasting sparked the interest of the two gentleman sitting on the other corner of the bar. So we tried their beer, they tried ours. The four of us talked for a while. S and Ch were brothers-in-law. Both were expats originally from Germany. They gave detailed lesson on beer about the difference between kolcht, pilsner, lager etc.. S was a huge fan of the original Budweiser, now sold in the US under the name Czechvar. Anyways at about 10pm, S and Ch say they are hungry and are going to a Chinese restaurant down the street. They invited C and I to join them. So we did. Ch was apparently fluent in Chinese and was good friends with the chef. The meal we get is exoticly spiced and definitely not americanized. It was delicious. We sat talking with our new friends about philosophy, drug manufacturing and geopolitics.

When we left the restaurant we said good bye knowing we would never see these two fellows again. That did not matter, it was just nice to meet new people. It was nice to think that although I have grown a little cynical that there still is a sense of community in everyone.