Foreigners

As part of our pledge to explore and get out more, the other weekend we decided to stroll down to the local weekend bazaar and take a look around.  Actually, we wanted to go there to get some crazy delicious nut rolls and candy that some weird guy sells from his stall.  He always looks drunk.  His eyes always glassy.  He always grabs the candy in an odd way…but he has the goods.

Back to the story; we were walking down some back streets when I spotted a couple with a baby walking towards us.  Don’t ask why, I just had a hunch they were foreigners and were lost.  As they approached us, the girl asked something in Spanish.  I looked to Tonya.  They were looking for the market we were on the way to.  She told them to follow us.  Totally out of character, Tonya then asked them where they were from.  They started speaking English.  She is from one of the ‘stans, Kazakhstan, Waziristan or something like that…but, she is actually German.  He is from Italy, Perugia to be exact.  They have a 2 year old daughter and they are out sightseeing.  We all walk leisurely to the market, asking this and that and just being polite.  It turns out, they have been here about as long as we have.

When we reached our destination, the girl said if we would like to have a coffee or something, give her a call.  We were open to the invite and she immediately started to write down her contact info.  Tonya scrounged for some paper and gave her our info.  We said our goodbyes and went on with our business.  Of course, we wondered around and on our way home, stopped in at the weird candy man to get the stuff.

Walking home, we asked one another what to make of this ‘lost’ couple.  They seemed alright.  The guy was quiet, the wife nice enough.  “I think it is good we met” Tonya says with confidence, “we should go out with them”.  I could not agree more.  Then Tonya added something that totally caught me off guard, “I think it’s good that you meet people who aren’t Mexicans”.  I laughed.  She did too. 

A few days later Tonya and our new friend, Cristina, were exchanging emails.  In one email, Cristina gives their address and says to come over one Sunday afternoon for tea, coffee or whatever. We decided ‘what the heck’, and Tonya replies back, telling her we will be there.

Address in hand, we did a quick look to Google maps to see where we were heading.  It was time to go and we were off.  Of course, on our way to their house we bounce thoughts off one another.  Typical stuff, I suppose, like ‘do you think they are freaks?’, ‘wonder what their place is like’; ‘I hope it is not uncomfortable’.  Me, as usual, ponders one constant thought no matter where I go, ‘wonder if they will have some snacks?’  In what seemed no time at all, we are exiting and driving down their street.  We park, pop open the umbrella and walk to the street where they lived.  As we got to the corner, Tonya saw the address and said, “That’s it!  Right there” It could not have been more convenient, literally directly across from where we were standing.

We got to the door of the mid-rise as another couple was going in.  They stood for a split second, holding the door open for us.  Both Tonya and I felt the same, without having to say a word.  We did not want to appear as slimy hit men, slipping in behind an unassuming couple.  We smile and say it is ok, we will buzz our guests.  No sooner did Tonya buzz than Leonardo replies and buzzes.  NO need, the guy ahead of us was still standing there with the door held for us.  Oh well.  We follow them into the other couple into the elevator.  It is small and smells odd, like some sort of cleaner and sweaty feet.  It is a tight fit.  Four people and two umbrellas.  The stranger leans to press his desired button, and I lean to one side so he can reach.  I press our destination. He reaches over again to unstuck our button.  I smile and feel like a nerd. 

Every time I am in an elevator, I think, ‘would I be able to stay in close confines with these people if need be? Where would I go pee if I had to?’  About as long as it took to replay these questions, the elevator stopped and the guy leans over and reaches out with keys in hand to unlock the door we are facing.  This is the front door to their apartment.  We look at them and smile.  We get a free peep into their abode while they squeeze past us to get off the elevator.  We say goodbye, and the door slides shut.  We start moving upwards.  I notice the elevator passes our floor.  I then think the worse, ‘What if the door doesn’t open?  Is there a code to use?  Do we need a key in case it gets stuck?  What are we going to do?’  The elevator stops, the door slides open and the apartment door opens.  There is a small white furry dog and a guy standing there with a smile.  As soon as he sees we are not who we should be, the smile disappears and he stiffens up.  Oops!  Sorry, we press the button and reverse the situation.  He closes his door and ours does too.  We head back down and then stop.  What is behind this door?

It’s Leonardo!  He is smiling.  He is shoeless and holding his daughter, Allegra.  Obviously he is at ease.  He invites us in and as we step in, Cristina comes to greet us, beaming and smiling.  We exchange hugs and kisses and get inside.  As we get inside, the tell us to sit down and relax.  Their daughter is staring at us, smiling.  As I put my coat and umbrella down, Cristina is telling us that their daughter is a bit grumpy, she is sick and doesn’t feel too good.  Not cool.  I came here to chill out and talk nonsense and get to know these foreigners.  After all, this is important that we build a friendship with this couple, they aren’t Mexicans!  Now though, I am thinking I will walk away with some child borne illness that is getting spread around some Mexican school yard like melted chocolate on two year olds fingers.  Actually, it would be some illness spread by this 2 year olds fingers!

We sit for a few minutes on the couch.  Leonardo is not saying much, and in these few brief moments I am starting to fear that he may be a tough nut to crack.  I survey their place.  I have a horrid thought.  We are up a handful of floors; I am in a strange building. Where are the stairs?  Where do we go if a quake hits?  I play cool by smiling though, and for some odd reason their sick, 2 year old is drawn to me (I know, I have this effect on women).  She is cute, very cute.  She has huge eyes and a wide mouth.  You could say she looks a bit like a frog, her head is kind of shaped like a frog’s head, but frogs don’t have that cute curly kid hair.  She stands in front of me, smiling.  Cristina is setting some stuff on the table, saying her daughter needs to eat.  She then says we could sit and have some tea, coffee and some cake she has.  If that won’t do, she offers to make some pasta.  I am at ease with this possibility, and I look forward to something to snack on.  Cake sounds great, I cannot agree to a coffee fast enough.  Turns out, Leonardo is the coffee guy.  He asks how I have my coffee, “espresso or like, uh, something taller, uh, like an Americano or…”he says in a very thick Italian accent. “Tall” I say, yes, just like an Americano.  I am kind of excited, because I want to see how this Italian makes his coffee.  I watch as he goes to the bar and walk up to a small machine and presses a button.  It is a Nespresso machine.  I am so let down.  He walks back and hands me the perfectly measured drink…it is pretty good.  After we all get our desired drinks in hand, we walk across the room to the table.   Cristina has put some stuff out for the kid, and a nice tart and some macaroons and biscotti for the big folks.  We sit and she offers up some tart.

The conversation flows smoothly.  Cristina is obviously happy to have some new friends in their home.  She tells of how horrible the parents are at Allegra’s school.  “They are all so elitist and rude”, she says placing the berry tart on our plates.   Allegra is less interested in eating, and more in sticking to my side.  Through out our whole visit, she constantly brings me toys and pulls the framed pictures off the book shelves and presents them to me.  I oblige, and asks her who is in the photos, and point to her in each one.  She smiles a huge smile, then shyly walks away.  Before too long, Leonardo is telling us about his job.  He is here for Benetton.  He says the Italians have no clue how to work with Mexicans, and the Mexicans do not know how to work for Italians.  It is a full day each day at work.  He says he is frustrated with Mexicans.  They are ‘yes’ men (you hear this complaint from loads of people).  He tells of situations where the Mexicans tell him they will have something ready for him upon the deadline, but of course, they never do.  “They are very hard workers”, he admits, “but they just don’t work the way that is needed for a big company.”  Of course, we have some laughs at the expense of others…who doesn’t?  He stops to take a bite of the tart.  The crust is thick and hard, and as he puts pressure on his spoon to break it up, blueberries and bits of crust come flying in my direction.  He laughs and apologizes.  Cristina is shocked at the food flying around from her husband and not her 2 year old.  We explain that it is the crust, and Leonardo motions a pile driver move on his crust to make headway.

Leonardo really started to loosen up.  It was nice hearing him tell of his experiences he has had around the globe.  According to him, the Dutch are horrible people to be around.  Being there a few years, he said he could not understand how one could be with your workmates or neighbors for such a long period of time, and no matter what, you are always kept at arm’s length, shaking his head he simply says, “It was terrible.  I had a horrible time, I do not like the Dutch”.  For a time, Cristina and Leonardo lived in far eastern Hungary.  According to her, it was great as far as their home and the small quaint town.  However, both of them agree that the only place people really speak English is in Budapest, forget about border towns on the eats with Romania.  Cristina said she went nuts there because she was home all day with her daughter, and trying to interact didn’t go very far in this town where no one really spoke English, German or Italian.

Allegra grabs this and that and brings them to me.  She brings a little car track that is like a puzzle.  She tells me to help her put the track together.  She plays for a few minutes and then wonders off.  A few minutes later she is on the other side of the table and pulls a book off the shelf and hands it to Tonya.  “Thank you” Tonya tells her.  Cristina spots the book and says that perhaps she shouldn’t be handing guests that book.  Tonya looks down at the book and says, “I know this book…”  I don’t.  Cristina starts to turn red with embarrassment.  Tonya says it is some butt book.  Obviously some kind of routine or exercise book to help you get an amazing butt. 

We exchange stories of where we were and why we are here.  Music comes up and we get a good run out of that.  Leonardo sits up and tells of a great jazz bar he had been to with some other Italians.  He pulls a book off the shelf and opens it to recommended nights spots in the city.  He flips through the pages and finds the jazz club.  “This is the one” he points.  He says he wants to get out more, and asks if I would be interested in finding some cool music places.  Of course I would love to!  Both he and Cristina say it is time to start exploring more of the city, but it is hard because they do not have a car and have only recently gotten hold of a babysitter.  We re-assure them we will help.  We will take them to some places and show them a bit.  They seem happy.

Leonardo sits and then asks a pointed question, “Do you miss home…do you want to go back?”  I explain to him that ‘home’ is Texas.  Any Texan will tell you it is the best place on earth.  I feel the same.  There are loads of neat places out there, but home is home, and home is Texas.  He smiles and seems curious.  He admits he has never met a Texan before, and is curious because he has heard about it so much.  I try to give him a good example, “I suppose it is like Sicilians…”  He smiles and nods his head as if he knows exactly what I am saying.  “Yes, like Sicilians” he affirms.  Of course, I have no idea what people back in the homeland think of Sicilians, but I just drew that comparison with Texans.

After a few hours, Leonardo was all smiles.  He offered some tequila, wine, ‘…anything?’  Obviously, he was just getting warmed up.  We had to go though.  Being our first visit, we do not want to wear out our welcome. Cristina asks if we do not want to stay and have dinner, “It is alright” she says.  We politely refuse and make the initial moves to head towards the door.  We stand by the kitchen and start to say our goodbyes.  Leonardo is holding his daughter, and she is waving goodbye.  She blows a few kisses.  For a few moments we laugh at the shyness and coyness of Allegra.  She makes as if she wants a kiss and hug, then pulls back.  The little one holds her arms out smiling, she leans towards us and we give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  She goes back and forth, this time it looks like she is going to give me a kiss.  As sweet as she is, the closer she gets I know I am going to be the target of the school yard sickness.  As she is cheek to cheek, she gives a small gentle kiss.  I now carry the kooties that some brat placed in the playground.  What can I do?  She likes me and is saying goodbye.  We all smile and laugh.  She is thrilled.  We hug and shake hands and walk to the door.  It has been a pleasant surprise.  I like them, Leonardo and Cristina.  I think they liked the visit too.  As we are waiting on the elevator door, I tell them to come have dinner soon.  They light up and without hesitation say they will.  A ding is heard and the elevator is awaiting. Once again we say goodbye and smile as we get on the elevator.  Yes, perhaps this is the start to what could be a great friendship.  I hope so.