00:55.4

I was quietly having breakfast and writing this post when someone rang the bell. I can see who it is without opening the door because the door is more glass than door. The not so nice part is that they can see me too. I can’t hide. I saw two women outside. Wearing skirts. I knew immediately and hated myself for forgetting to ask my friend Inga how to “politely turn anything down” in German. I was a pro in Cowshitland turning people down. I knew everybody could speak English so I let them say their 3 minutes speech and when they were waiting for the answer I would say in a very broken Dutch that I didn’t understand. Then they would ask what do you Speak? I would say Spanish and see the disappointment on their faces and add in the end in Dutch, “T hank you but I’m not interested.” That worked pretty well for several years until the one ringing my bell was a Mexican guy. He offered to help me, with whatever I needed (you should have seen how wide my eyes opened that day). “Really?” Then he added that the only way for them to get in the house where a lady was, it was if a man was also there… Disappointment. (Or wait… Did I miss a party ??)

So I let the women say their speech and after they finished, I said in English that I didn’t understand (Not many people speak English here). Bad call, both of them could speak English. They wanted to talk about the bible. Good that they didn’t want to test my knowledge in the subject. Then they asked “What’s your mother language?” “Spanish” “We’ll look for some information in Spanish, and we’ll be back” “Hold on” said one to the other in German “She said she could speak English” Busted. “Yes, but she also said her English was not that good” “I believe it’s good enough”, so she looked at me, smiled and opened her bag looking for something. Unbelievable!! They were freaking prepared!!
I would have thought that in such a small town things would go differently… But I guess it’s not that way. I’m in Germany. Everything is incredibly efficient. And so they were!! She found what she was looking for in her bag. In English!!!

Some years ago, while on holidays with a sister and a friend, we met a couple of guys. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed that when we were back in our home town, we were going to arrange to go out or something. That was in January. In February, we called them but one of them said he couldn’t make it that weekend because he was going to Gualeguaychu (A small town in Entre Ríos, Argentina, famous for its Carnival parades), to see the carnival.

And I’m adding this one for the girls, I’m such a thoughtful person !!

“Ok, we’ll arrange something for next week.”
The week after, we finally met. We asked: “How was the Carnival?” “Ok I guess, I didn’t get to see much of it because I met a girl” “Score!! Well done!!” “Let me tell you how it went”. So he started telling the story and reproducing the dialogues. Every time it was the girl’s turn to say something, he would talk with an acute voice, and, to make it even funnier, he added an accent… He went on saying that the girl was kind of crazy like you can’t imagine. “I guess we can, you missed the Carnival for her” “Yes, because she made me VERY horny with the things she said. And how she touched me!!” “SO, why are you complaining?!?” “Because when I said: ‘Let’s go somewhere else’, she replied: ‘I can’t. You are here only for the weekend. You’ll leave on Sunday and on Monday the people will talk’. And she kept saying that while her hand was in my pants!” “So you couldn’t ‘remojar la chaucha”??!!?” I asked laughing (‘remojar la chaucha’ translates as ‘soak the bean’ and I believe it doesn’t need further explanation).
“No!!! Freaking small town!!!” “hahahahhahaha” We were laughing for a long time about that.
The part “On Monday the people will talk” stayed engraved in my memory. At the time, it didn’t make any sense. I was living in a town with over 11 million inhabitants, so the only “On Monday the people will talk” that made sense to us was when on Sunday our football (soccer) team lost against a smaller team. Apparently, people living in big cities never have the time to worry about what others do or don’t do. I say, bullshit… It’s not the size of the town, it’s the freaking people. Judgmental, fake, bored (but not fun bored like me!) people, live everywhere. The only difference is that in a 10 thousand people town, the rumors reach the other side of town faster than in the 10 million one.

And that’s why I’m being careful here. This is a tiny town. The first thing the owner of this house told me when I asked if this place was safe, it was: “Yes! Everyone knows everyone!!”. So, is that supposed to be a good thing?? Imagine I go on a date with the farmer on a Saturday… Trust me, on Monday the people will talk.
And if after a couple of weeks I date another guy (outside my dreams), it’ll be as if I dated half the town.

~ by DotedOn on October 21, 2014.