Lunch

Lunch of Champions

I have just returned from the supermarket and am having lunch, using the moment to jot down some thoughts.  Annika has me working hard today.  This morning has been spent answering emails, applying for jobs and cleaning the house.  We have complete strangers coming over dinner tonight.  We met the couple who live 2 floors above us and I invited them over for dinner.  There are ulterior motives for doing so but I will leave that for another blog.  Anni and I have decided to do French for them.  (snigger snigger).  So I have successfully managed to buy all the necessary ingredients for tonight's dinner, once again with out speaking English.  That may sound simple but you try and find bay leaves and beef stock in a German supermarket.  Which leads me to an astute observation.  Today's traveller has it so much easier than any from previous generations.  For instance I have downloaded a free English/German dictionary for my iPhone.  It has been written by English soccer hooligans and basically anyone can add any translation they like.  This may sound highly dubious but if I ever want to pick up a slapper and give the dog a bone then I am well sorted.  It also has bay leaves and beef stock in the data base.

Last night was an example of ineffective communication (or blatant stupidity on my part).  Annika, recognising that I might be feeling homesick, had asked me to look up if there was anywhere in town that was celebrating Australia Day.  Me, being very obtuse and not home sick at all, thought I wonder why Annika wants to go somewhere to celebrate Australia Day.  So I dutifully found an Irish Pub within walking distance that was celebrating Australia Day.  When I passed this on, Annika asked whether I wanted to go.  Now, looking back on this I can see that I was a bit of a moron when I thought to myself once more.  I wonder why Annika wants to go somewhere to celebrate Australia Day.  I mean when I was in Florence for work and one of my colleagues suggested we go to an Irish Pub I think I may have responded rather forcefully that I had the whole of Florence at my feet with all of it's restaurants, cafes, bars and trattorias, why on earth would I want to go to an Irish Pub.  I may have even added that I would rather drink a pint of my own diarrhoea than go to an Irish Pub.  I have nothing against Irish Pubs when I am back home or when in Ireland but when I am somewhere else I want to be where the locals are drinking what the locals drink not trying to reclaim my comfort zone by surrounding myself with fellow English speakers.

To cut a long story short we went to Irish Pub where it soon became apparent that neither of us really wanted to be there.  Both of us agreed to be more open and honest with each other in future (basically I agreed to be more open and honest with Annika).