Friday, April 05, 2013

today i ate some minstrels.

most places i go, i get accused of being a local. not russia, mind.
i get asked for directions often, so i've learnt to say in many languages "go straight, and then it's on the right."
sometimes, my lack of language gives it away. sometimes, my no doubt hideous accent.
sometimes though, i can just use international sign language. or if i'm far enough away e.g. directions to a passing automanoble, i can just mumble.

yesterday, i hit a first.

in a bar in town, unbeknown to me, they had a foreign gathering evening. i was there early, and drinking alongside two pasty ladies. one hot, one, not so much. opposite my friend and me, were a group of audible spaniards. the manager walked over to the ladies and told them of the foreign evening, saying they are welcome to stay where they are sat, but it might get noisy. he tried some awful banter and then turned to walk away. he saw the spaniards, and continued on his visual scanning of the room. next, it was us. he looked at us and said to himself, out loud, "you're ok here" and continued on his rounds.

my friend turns to me and says, "well, in a suit you do look like the algerian prime minister"

i went home and had a shave.

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